They did not move after the cyclopses retreated.

  They stayed in formation at first — shields forward, casters alert — waiting for the second wave that never came.

  Minutes passed.

  Then the distant fighting began.

  clittering sounds. heavy stamps. then silence.

  a few minutes of silence

  They were all startled when the maze pulsed:

  Maze run #1206 finished reset in 5 minutes..

  All seven felt it.

  Leo lowered his weapon first. “That was quick.”

  Satyr Leo nodded slowly. “Less runners.”

  The Unibrows were already calculating.

  Leo glanced around the room. “Let’s think. We’re three groups. The cyclopses fought the scorpions.”

  Satyr Leo finished the thought. “Which did not last long.”

  They both did the math silently.

  “Two,” Leo said.

  “Two active runners,” the satyr agreed.

  Harlada frowned. “That would explain the short cycle.”

  Fewer competitors. Faster resets. Less resistance to trigger.

  The room grew quieter as the implication settled.

  Bert voiced it first. “So… if we remove those last two parties…”

  He didn’t finish.

  He didn’t need to.

  Peace.

  No more runs.

  No more attacks.

  No more defending.

  The Unibrows exchanged a glance.

  One crouched and placed seven pebbles in a tight cluster.

  Then he placed two separate pebbles across from them.

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  He looked up.

  Then flicked one of the two pebbles toward the seven.

  It bounced harmlessly off.

  He then nudged both lone pebbles closer together.

  They did not combine.

  Then he pushed the seven forward.

  Overwhelming.

  He tapped the two isolated stones.

  Weak.

  Another Unibrow placed his hand flat over the seven.

  Protect.

  Then he made a slicing motion across the two.

  Remove.

  Clear reasoning.

  Leo watched carefully. “Only if they’re weak.”

  The Unibrows nodded.

  One mimed open hands first.

  Offer.

  Then, if refused, a decisive strike.

  Satyr Leo’s jaw tightened.

  “I don’t want to kill anyone.”

  The flute rested across his knees now, silent.

  “I don’t want to kill cyclopses. Or scorpions. Or parties. Or alternate versions of myself.”

  Bert shifted awkwardly. “It’s not personal.”

  “It always is,” the satyr replied quietly.

  Harlada studied him. “Even if they would kill you?”

  He hesitated.

  “That’s what I expect,” Satyr Leo said. “But expectation doesn’t make it right.”

  Leo folded his arms, thinking.

  “If there are only two parties left,” he said slowly, “does the Maze accelerates? Will it pressure, forces confrontation?”

  Unibrow Leo nodded once.

  Time decreases.

  One of the Unibrows rearranged the pebbles again.

  Seven together.

  Two separate.

  He pushed the seven back instead of forward this time.

  Wait.

  Observe.

  Then he pointed at the two isolated stones and mimed speech.

  Offer first.

  Harlada exhaled softly. “We ask them to join.”

  “And if they refuse?” Bert asked.

  A Unibrow mimed a scale.

  On one side: seven stones.

  On the other: three.

  He let the heavier side drop.

  Decision by numbers.

  Satyr Leo looked down at his flute.

  “I won’t strike first,” he said.

  Leo looked at him. “But you’ll defend?”

  “Heal?” Harlada added.

  A long pause.

  “Yes.”

  That was as much as he could promise.

  Silence settled again, not tense this time — thoughtful.

  The Maze hummed faintly:

  Reset in 5-4-3-2

  Three parties, they will come together in this room

  Two parties scattered.

  Peace within reach.

  At a cost.

  Leo finally spoke.

  “Next run,” he said. “We talk first.”

  The Unibrows nodded.

  Bert cracked his knuckles anyway.

  Satyr Leo lifted the flute but did not play.

  The waiting felt shorter now.

  Not because the Maze was faster.

  But because a decision was forming.

  The fade to black felt warmer.