Chapter 8: "Doors, Dangers, and Decorative Death Traps"
(Where I bravely lead the way, the game pretends to be kind, and I get suspicious of overly shiny armor.)
Alright, sitting in a magical safe zone sounds nice and all—no monsters, no damage, lots of lounging—but here's the catch: you can only polish your equipment so many times before you start to lose your mind.
We weren't progressing. We weren't learning. And worse… we were thinking too much.
So I stood up, strapped on a sword and shield like I vaguely knew what I was doing, and said the words every anxious gamer-turned-magical-survivor fears:
"Alright, guys. Let's move out."
Felix didn't even look up from sharpening his daggers. "Finally."
Alex, Diana's little brother and our local thirteen-year-old prodigy (aka "Sword Child With Anger Issues"), nodded once, his wooden blade resting on his shoulder like it was Excalibur.
Diana just sighed and muttered, "Please don't break anything immediately."
With supplies packed into our pocket dimensions—food, water, backup weapons, my emergency chocolate stash—we made our way out of the safe zone and into what the system called the Infinite Palace.
A name that was, you know, mildly ominous.
The hall was massive, like someone had stretched out a castle corridor until it became a fantasy airport terminal. Smooth black-and-gold marble stretched on forever under our feet. Towering doors lined both sides of the corridor, tall enough that you'd expect a dragon to walk through for a coffee.
But no enemies.
No traps.
No creepy music.
Just... silence.
It took us a good ten minutes of walking before we realized what was going on.
"This is a game room layout," I muttered, half to myself. "The enemies don't roam. They're inside the rooms. Classic instanced encounters."
"Meaning?" Diana asked, eyes scanning the walls.
"Meaning we have to choose a door, open it, and deal with whatever's inside if we want to move forward."
Alex cracked his knuckles. "Good. I was getting bored."
"I was getting anxious," I said. "So let's call that balanced party emotions."
Now, I wasn't about to let anyone else walk in first. That was my job. Party leader perks: high stress, high guilt, and first into the murder box. So I pulled up my game mode, cast my Chaos Barrier (a shimmery distortion of mana in a wide dome), and approached one of the doors that looked slightly less cursed than the others.
Deep breath.
I pushed it open.
No explosions. No alarms. No demonic howls.
Nice.
I stepped inside, motioning for the others to stay back for a second.
And wow—this place was a vibe.
The room was huge. Think ballroom-sized, but abandoned for a few centuries and forgotten by every cleaning crew in existence. Moss-covered windows filtered in dull green light, giving the whole space a weird swampy glow. Dust floated in the air like magical dandruff.
But the main attraction?
Armor.
Dozens of suits of armor lined the walls. Full medieval sets—chest plates, helms, greaves—all holding different weapons. Halberds, longswords, maces, even a flail or two for the overachievers. They stood there like museum exhibits. Imposing. Shiny. Suspiciously well-kept.
I eyed them warily.
"Okay," I whispered to myself, "either this is the easiest warm-up room ever… or someone's about to start a killer game of Night at the Museum: Blood Edition."
Still, I wasn't panicking yet. No ominous music cues. No glowing red eyes. Just me, a magical barrier, and a bunch of fashion-forward mannequins with murder potential.
I turned back toward the door and waved the others in. "Clear—for now."
They walked in cautiously, weapons ready.
Diana's eyes widened as she took in the scene. "This... feels like a trap."
"Everything here feels like a trap," Alex said. "I'm just waiting for the trigger."
Chris nodded. "Right. But it also means we're in the game now. This is progress. We don't level up by sitting around worrying."
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As the door sealed behind us with a solid thunk, I expected a few things.
Enemy aggro? Sure.
Screaming metal and immediate combat? Maybe.
Felix turning invisible before I could say "wait"? Absolutely.
What I didn't expect was for all twenty suits of armor to stand in perfect silence—straight, menacing, armed—and just... stare at us.
Figuratively. Because they had no eyes. Just empty black voids behind their helms, which honestly wasn't comforting.
CLANK
A ripple of noise passed through the room as each armor slowly raised a weapon—axes, swords, hammers, one with a war fan for some reason (props for flair)—and then…
Nothing.
No charging. No attack. Just a waiting game.
That's when the voice echoed through the room. Smooth, genderless, mechanical but also somehow ancient. Classic omniscient tutorial narrator.
"Welcome to your first combat, players."
I flinched slightly. "Great. Sentient dungeon."
The voice continued, calm and infuriatingly chipper.
"As you can see, your magic bracelet can identify the name of monsters and their levels. These are Living Armors, levels five through seven. Here in the Infinite Palace, you must enter rooms to combat monsters. The rooms may vary in size and may contain mixed enemy types."
Good to know. Also: may contain mixed types? Thanks for the mild panic.
"A maximum of ten players may enter each room. This is not a death match. You may exit at any time."
That part was… oddly comforting. We weren't locked in here to die like some twisted escape room. More like a training gym with actual lethal consequences. You know, casual.
"If in a team, experience is shared and divided evenly."
Alex made a soft grunt. "So if I solo, I level faster."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, if you want to die faster too."
"Finally... this is not just a game. Pure combat will not lead you to the top. You must come to understand yourself. Growth in this palace requires willpower. The stronger your will, the more chaos energy you can utilize. Good luck."
And just like that, the voice faded out.
No prompt. No countdown. Just... eerie silence.
We all stood there for a beat, absorbing the information.
Then I saw the change happen.
Felix—completely invisible now—shifted ever so slightly, ready to strike from the shadows.
Diana's transformation was more visual. A dark tar-like mist crawled up her limbs, enveloping her like a living shadow. Her eyes glowed faint violet. She looked like a villainess from a fantasy horror novel—and I was here for it.
Alex? Cool as ice. His wooden blade shimmered with magic, glowing faintly blue as it hummed with energy. I saw faint distortions in the air, like his slashes could cut through more than just armor.
Me?
Well, I felt something I hadn't in a long time—calm confidence.
My Chaos Mage instincts flared, and I let mana surge gently into my barrier, reinforcing it. My bracelet glowed faintly, revealing more information.
Target Identified: Living Armor [Lv. 6]
Weakness: Lightning, Precision Blows, Disarming.
Danger Level: Moderate.
Good. That meant this was a starting fight. The devs—or mages, or whatever—weren't trying to delete us immediately.
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The plan was simple.
Practice. One by one. Don't go overboard.
What we didn't factor in was that Alex, sweet dependable Alex, had apparently been hiding a monster behind that wooden sword of his.
The moment Felix turned us invisible with his shadow veiling, the Living Armors stopped moving, looking around like confused mannequins. Their heavy heads twisted from side to side with metallic creaks, unsure of where the threat had gone.
Perfect for us.
Bad for them.
Alex stepped up first—ten meters away from the closest armor—and let loose.
SWOOSH!
His wooden sword sliced the air, unleashing a wave of energy that looked like a faint arc of pale blue light. It hit the armor square in the chest with a loud CLANG, knocking it back into the wall.
But it wasn't enough.
The armor didn't shatter. Just dented and staggered.
"Distance dulls power," I muttered, watching intently. "Close in."
And Alex did.
At five meters, still cloaked in invisibility, he raised his blade again. This time, three crescent-shaped arcs shot out in rapid succession. They hit with perfect timing—boom, boom, boom—and the armor crumbled like a tin can under a sledgehammer.
"Nice," Diana whispered beside me. "Controlled burst fire."
Alex wasn't done. He moved swiftly, footwork tight and measured now that his Battle Instinct was active. That passive skill of his? It made him frightening. Calm, fearless, and efficient.
He got within striking distance of another armor and dragged his blade from the floor to above his head, like he was cutting through a wall. The result?
CLAAAAANG–SHIIIIIIING!
The armor split in half, sparks flying. The torso landed with a hollow thud, the head spinning on the ground like a dropped bowl.
I stepped forward. "Alright, Alex, that's two. Give the rest of us a chance."
But he wasn't listening. Or maybe he was too deep in the zone to care.
He spun on his heel and lunged at the next two armors. His sword flicked out once, twice. Blasts of energy exploded on impact, knocking one armor against a pillar and sending another crashing into its buddy.
Diana raised a hand. "Yo, dude—"
"Hey!" I shouted. "Don't kill all of them! We need them for practice!"
Alex stopped mid-step. He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable, then took a deep breath. The glow around him dimmed slightly.
"Sorry," he said. "I… got excited."
Yeah. Excited like a tactical nuke on a field trip.
I surveyed the battlefield. Out of twenty Living Armors, four were already out of commission—bent, broken, and unmoving. Two more were dented and wobbling like they had a concussion.
The rest had backed into a loose formation, trying to protect themselves, their weapons raised awkwardly as they turned in slow circles to catch sight of invisible enemies.
Good. They weren't adapting quickly. That gave us the advantage—but not forever.
"Alright," I said, clapping my hands. "Diana, you're up next. Try not to obliterate more than three."
Her shadowy aura pulsed in response. "No promises."
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You ever watch a horror movie and think,
"Pfft. I could survive this. Just don't go into the basement."
Yeah, well, Diana is the basement. The creepy, dark, bone-crunching basement with tentacles.
After Alex's rampage—which was all flashy energy slashes and calm murder-face—I figured the rest of us would just throw pebbles and hope for participation trophies. But then Diana stepped forward, and, well…
The shadows got real interested.
She moved like smoke—gliding rather than walking, her entire body wrapped in this oily tar-like aura that shimmered with teeth and claws if you looked too long. I blinked, and her arms had already transformed into long, clawed things that would've made a horror director cry tears of inspiration.
The Living Armors noticed her too.
Or maybe they just sensed their doom.
Either way, Diana stalked right up to the closest armor, stopping barely two meters from it. While I would've yelled something smart like, "Hey, let's talk about this!" she just smiled—the calm kind of smile villains give before they do something extremely not okay.
Then came the drill.
I'm not joking. A swirling, conical lance of darkness formed from her hand—like some twisted black unicorn horn of doom—and she rammed it straight into the armor's chest.
SKRREEEEEEE—SHUNK!
The armor didn't even get a chance to scream. (Though I'm not sure it could scream. Good for it.)
It staggered back, then dropped in pieces like a sad tin piñata.
You know, a haunted piñata.
"Whoa," I muttered, probably with my jaw on the floor.
Diana was already moving on.
The next armor raised a sword in defense.
Big mistake.
From her back—or maybe her shadow—whipped out four tentacles. Not the gentle huggy kind either. These were jet-black, razor-sharp and fast. They sliced the armor up like it was a roast chicken on Thanksgiving.
"Okay," Felix whispered beside me. "I definitely don't want to fight her."
Same, bro. Same.
Still not finished, Diana turned to the third one. This time she raised her clawed hand, and crack! brought it down right on its helmet. It crumpled like a soda can under a sledgehammer.
BOOM—CRUNCH.
"Remind me never to tick you off," I mumbled, maybe to myself, maybe to my future therapist.
And then? Oh, you thought that was it?
Nope.
A low growl vibrated through the floor. A dark maw, fanged and glowing with eerie violet light, burst from beneath the armor's feet and swallowed it whole. Just poof—gone, like someone hitting "delete" on reality.
I stared.
Blinking didn't help.
"I'm both terrified and deeply impressed," I said, mostly to my own brain so it wouldn't implode from the sheer what-the-heck-ery of it all.
I was about to give her the praise she very clearly deserved—because one, I value my life, and two, maybe she was fishing for it just a little—
when Alex beat me to it.
"Nice job, Diana," he said, all cool and breezy. "That third hit? Totally clean form. You've got real natural flow."
"Oh come on," I whispered. "What is this, an audition for Dark Idol?"
Diana blinked at him, then gave a tiny smile. Not the villain one either. The "I'm pleased but pretending I'm not" kind.
I cleared my throat, louder this time. "Yes, well, obviously it was amazing. You're like a shadow goddess with vengeance issues. Very majestic. I give it a ten out of ten do not anger."
Felix added in a stage whisper, "Eleven out of ten would not survive."
Diana just nodded once like she'd accept all our offerings. Honestly, she probably feeds on compliments. Not emotionally. I mean literally. I wouldn't be surprised.
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Felix didn't like getting stabbed.
Which, I guess, is a totally valid lifestyle choice.
He was more cloak-and-dagger, minus the dagger. Emphasis on the cloak. His entire power revolved around invisibility—and I'm not talking "he's really good at hiding behind curtains" invisible. I mean straight-up vanished from sight, magical or otherwise. Cameras? Nope. Heat sensors? Forget about it. Even Alex's enhanced senses couldn't spot him.
Basically, Felix was the ninja ghost no one invited, but everyone was glad showed up when things got dicey.
"Oh yeah," he whispered in my ear like a creepy breeze. "I'm not fighting those things. You go."
And just like that, I became the chosen one.
Yay.
I stepped forward, trying not to let my knees knock together from excitement (and sheer terror), raised my hands, and did what any completely average person would do when surrounded by cursed medieval armor:
I spammed magic missile like it owed me money.
I shaped them into spinning lances, because hey, why throw a boring little energy dart when you can go full magical joust tournament?
BOOM! First armor—direct hit to the chest—exploded like someone kicked a tin can full of fireworks.
BOOM! Second one took a lance to the shoulder, spun, and collapsed like it was done with today's nonsense.
"Two down!" I called, probably sounding way too proud for someone who'd just committed fantasy murder from a safe distance.
Now, look, the armors weren't hard targets. They were like the cardboard cutouts of dungeon enemies: spooky, yes, but slow and a little confused by stairs. Still, I felt like I was getting the hang of this whole "mage in training" gig.
Naturally, that meant it was time to mess it up completely.
"Okay," I muttered, hands crackling with a different kind of energy, "let's try a new spell."
Because clearly the first sign of success is when you decide to ditch everything that worked and try something completely untested.
I focused on one of the armors—the biggest, nastiest-looking one with a double-headed axe and no respect for personal space—and pictured chains.
Not just any chains.
Ethereal, glowy, float-from-the-ground-like-weird-snake-ghosts chains.
"Trap Bind!" I yelled.
(Yeah, I yelled the name. It makes it stronger. Probably.)
The floor shimmered beneath the armor, and from it rose glowing white chains, coiling around its legs like something out of a haunted hardware store.
They wrapped around the armor, creaked ominously, then—
CLINK. SHRUG. SNAP.
Yeah. That's about how it went.
The armor just kind of… glanced down, tilted its head like, "Really?", and flexed once.
The chains shattered like spaghetti noodles under a truck tire.
I stared.
It stared back.
Well, I think it did. Hard to say when its eyes were just glowy pits of doom.
"Okay," I said, nodding slowly. "So… trap spell: not ready for prime time."
Diana snorted from somewhere to my left. "Honestly, that was adorable."
"Thanks, I try."
Still, even if my chains sucked harder than a vacuum in a wind tunnel, I wasn't completely useless. The two armor kills were solid. I just needed more practice. And maybe a spell called 'Chains That Don't Break When Looked At Wrong'.
But hey, if Felix could make me invisible again, I could hide from my embarrassment.
Win-win.
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Once everyone had shown off their powers like we were in some magical version of a school talent show, we all kinda just… paused.
The armors were still standing.
Well, the remaining ones, anyway. Half the group was already reduced to scrap metal thanks to Alex's flashy swordplay, Diana's nightmare-fueled darkness show, my magical laser-tag, and Felix's MVP-level support play.
So, obviously, someone had to clean up the leftovers.
"I'll take care of the rest," Alex said, flipping his wooden blade like it was Excalibur.
None of us argued. Not just because he looked super focused and ready to breakdance through the battlefield—but also because we were all invisible, and honestly? That felt like the perfect time for a break.
So while Alex went full anime protagonist on the remaining armors—energy arcs flying, sparks exploding, metallic bodies clattering to the floor like a junkyard percussion section—I found myself next to Diana.
Well, hovering vaguely beside her, since again: invisible.
Still, I could tell it was her by the faint smell of her shadow magic. Sort of like burnt sugar mixed with mystery and "I could crush you but I won't." Comforting stuff.
"You know," I said, crossing my arms, "if someone told me a week ago that my main form of entertainment would be watching a dude solo twenty living armor suits, I'd have laughed."
Diana chuckled, that low sound that always made it hard to tell if she was amused or plotting my doom.
"You're not wrong. I miss anime."
"I miss video games," I said. "Like, stupid games. I'd even take the worst mobile gacha right now. Just something with a cute mascot and a daily login bonus."
"No memes, no phones, no playlists," Diana said dramatically. "Only pain and existential dread."
I sighed. "We're basically stuck in a magical boot camp with no Wi-Fi."
"Tragic."
We fell into a bit of a comfortable silence. You know the kind—where nothing really needs to be said, but you say stuff anyway because it feels normal.
"So…" I glanced toward the battle zone. Alex just split an armor in two and sent the helmet flying into the distance like a home run. "We doing this forever? Just fight, survive, repeat?"
Diana was quiet for a second. Then she said something that actually hit me kind of deep.
"Maybe. But if we're stuck here, at least we're stuck together."
I blinked. "Wow. That was... surprisingly optimistic of you."
"Yeah, don't get used to it," she replied with a grin in her voice. "Just saying, this might be the universe's way of forcing us to bond. You know, friendship through fire and death traps."
I snorted. "Beautiful. We'll put that on our team T-shirts. 'Infinite Palace Survivors: Friendship Through Fire.'"
"Make sure it's black. And edgy. With skulls."
"Obviously."
And just like that, I felt a little less alone in the chaos. Diana had this way of being terrifyingly powerful and lowkey comforting. Like a goth older sister who would destroy your enemies and also listen to you rant about how much you missed chocolate.
Alex finished the last armor with an aerial spin-slash that looked like it belonged in a fantasy movie trailer.
He gave a thumbs-up.
We were still invisible, but somehow, we all knew it was time to move on.
And maybe, just maybe, things weren't going to be so bad.
As long as we had each other.
And as long as I didn't have to fight the next room's monsters alone.