(Point of View: Blue)
The Supervisor's directive resonated directly in my consciousness: Labyrinth. Test of intellect and temporal manipulation. Use of other affinities and direct confrontation prohibited. Objective: the center. Simple in concept, undoubtedly tedious in execution.
I initiated the advance. The first obstacle presented itself as a transient abyss crossed by solidified beams of light that appeared and disappeared with a frequency calculated to prevent standard passage. A basic temporal puzzle.
[Chronos: Stasis Field - Active]
I froze the local environment. The beams of light remained suspended. I crossed the abyss without incident, measuring the expenditure of temporal prana. Efficient, but a constant drain. I deactivated the field. The cost was manageable, but accumulation would be problematic.
The next corridor presented an active spatial distortion. The geometry fluctuated, altering perceived and actual distance erratically. A challenge to intuitive navigation. The solution required a finer manipulation of relative temporal flow.
[Chronos: Perceptual Acceleration - Active] + [Chronos: Environmental Deceleration - Targeted]
My perception sharpened, processing visual information at an accelerated rate while imposing selective deceleration on the more violent spatial fluctuations of the corridor. It was like walking on ground that liquefied and solidified beneath my feet, requiring constant prediction of the next stable state. The mental strain was considerable. Each step, a differential equation solved at a subconscious level. Exhausting.
Deeper in. Temporal echoes. Residual manifestations of my own past actions, generated by some induced fluctuation in the labyrinth. They interfered, obstructed, created minor local paradoxes. A crude psychological tactic, designed to induce confusion and errors. I ignored them as much as possible, using brief accelerations and unpredictable vector changes to avoid direct collisions with my own ghosts. The futility of fighting oneself was evident. It was a test of concentration and detachment.
The pattern was clear: obstacles designed to force varied and costly use of Chronos, wearing down the energy reserves and mental stability of the participant. A test of endurance and resource management under cognitive stress. Typical of the Supervisor's grandiose yet fundamentally empty style.
Finally, after an undetermined period (temporal perception in this domain was inherently unreliable), the corridor opened into a vast central chamber. The crystal walls resonated with the light of the hanging flowers. I had reached the objective. My mana reserve was significantly reduced, and a deep fatigue settled in my core. I expected a final guardian, a complex enigma, a direct confrontation that would validate the effort.
I found a Netamino board.
A board of absurd proportions, occupying the center of the chamber. The pieces, luminous statues of archetypal figures.
...
The irony was… almost insulting. All the display of temporal power, all the navigation through impossible geometries and paradoxical echoes… reduced to a board strategy game? The banality of the climax was a statement in itself about the capricious and perhaps childish nature of the Supervisor. A deep sense of strategic futility washed over me.
It was then that I perceived another presence entering the chamber. Another participant who had passed the filter. I turned, my posture instinctively defensive, even though confrontation was prohibited.
It was him. The other. The one from the arena. The inexperienced reflection. Identical blue cloak, mask concealing the childish face. He was there, across the monumental board, observing me with an expression that mixed exhaustion and an incredulity that probably mirrored my own.
Two pieces reaching the end of a game designed by a madman.
You, I thought, a sigh escaping my lips, barely audible. Of course. The chaotic factor. The unexpected variable.
This wasn't a test of skill. It was a cosmic joke. And we would be the punchline.