Rob X Punzel ~ Thirty-Eight!

The mocking sing-song laughter trailed off, leaving Goldie gasping on the glass covered floor clutching at her abdomen. Her lifeblood seeped between her fingers, the hot and viscous liquid a sharp contrast to how cold her digits were becoming. “I got… so close to being safe for the rest of my life. I guess I'm safe right here… for the rest of my life.”

A harsh wheeze of laughter burbled out of her as the thief tried to keep pressure against the gaping wound. She could even feel her hair writhing around in a desperate attempt to help, though it couldn't do much other than act as a makeshift bandage—the location of the wound made it impossible for a tourniquet to be of use. A small vial popped into her hand, and her eyes went wide and hopeful as she uncorked it and downed the contents.

Moments later, a sharp ache lanced through her, and Goldie let out a deep groan of pain. Bright red liquid, clearly the remnants of the potion she’d just downed, poured out around her fingers where she was pressing. “Speared right through the stomach… huh? Hard for a potion to work if it doesn't stay in. Thanks, hair, for trying to save me. That was… nice.”

For the first time, it seemed as though her hair wasn't just reacting and was instead actively trying to help. Unfortunately, as it floundered about, looking for anything it could do to save her, Goldie felt her vision slowly darkening. As far as she could tell, all the alchemical substance had done was buy her a few extra minutes. The second bottle that had been labeled as having healing capabilities appeared, and this time her hair uncorked it by itself then slathered the liquid onto itself and plunged into the open wound—directly applying the potion to her punctured organs.

Minimal-rank acid immunity gained!

Goldie gasped at the shocking amount of pain the slight healing accomplished, some clarity coming into her vision. “Stop… please… all you're doing is making dying hurt the whole time.”

Her hair drooped, but it didn't seem to agree with her decision to go gently into the night. Instead, it wrapped around her hands, pulling them up and dragging her arms into the air as though she were a marionette. Each of her fingers at each of her joints had a different section of hair holding them, and she felt them wiggle as her hair got used to puppeting her. Then, gripping her right wrist firmly, her index finger was extended while the others were bent. 

Blinking back tears, Goldie tried to focus on what her hair was doing—as this was an entirely novel experience for her. Part of her wanted to fight off the grip, but that was less important at the moment than understanding what her hair was trying to do. The extended index finger was dragged across the length of her left arm in a smooth motion, and she winced, almost pulling away, but being stopped by the strange urgency of the strands. Familiar glowing script appeared on her forearm, listing out each of her classes and skills in the usual delicate, ethereal lettering. 

“Why are you doing this?” the thief whispered, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. However, her hair had no way to explain itself and could only press onward. With the glowing script showing still, her right hand was pulled back—aggravating her inflamed bicep wound—then smoothly pulled in a motion in front of her, as if it were attempting to call up her status without touching the inseam of her arm.

Then her index finger was bent down and flicked upward, and to Goldie’s surprise, the slowly written out words of her Basic Class, Basic Skill, on her left arm vanished, replaced by the Advanced Skill of the same class. Another flick, and her Breakthrough Skill began writing itself out. Waiting a moment to ensure Goldie understood, her hair flicked the digit in the opposite direction, and the Advanced Skill appeared once more, then again for the Basic version. Then, bending her finger halfway, it pressed forward as if she were pointing at something: the first modifier lit up with a secondary glow.

“Perfectly smooth my hair? I don't understand-” her finger was pulled back, pushed again, as if she were tapping on empty air, and the second modifier was selected. Repeating the motion for the third time, the modifier for Perfect rejuvenation modifier was selected. Then each of her fingers were extended out until her palm was wide open, then bent into a tight fist. 

Goldie felt a strange pull inside of herself, as Akashic Interface—her Full Class Basic Skill—attempted to activate. But there was something missing… a feeling as though she needed to want the effect to activate. “Can't be worse than dying. Do it.”

The highlighted modifier on her arm blazed with golden light then faded to a dull gray—exactly as her Temporal Trapdoor modifier appeared when it was on cooldown. Her hair wrapped around her wounds, no longer pressing… just acting as a blanket to keep her warm. Shiver-inducing tingles spread across the surface of her body, causing her skin to itch absolutely everywhere. After a few moments, the tingles began concentrating, swirling around the injuries on her bicep and abdomen. The irritation turned to heat, then searing pain.

Minutes ticked past as she lay in a pool of her own congealing blood, barely cognizant of the occasional footsteps passing by. Her eyes drifted open and fluttered closed, glimpsing reflections of shadows moving through the maze. Even when other candidates stopped and glanced at her, they simply averted their eyes and moved on. To them, she was already dead—just one more still-breathing corpse left behind in this twisted competition for the throne. Slowly, so very slowly, the pain faded away, and she was left with a feeling of completion; as though her skill had slapped its hands together and declared that the project it had been working on was complete.

She took a deep breath, slowly opening her eyes as she propped herself up on her elbows. Goldie looked down at where a lethal wound had been only… perhaps hours ago? Her hand pressed against her gut, gently at first, testing for weakness or pain, then slightly harder as she found only firm flesh beneath. 

“You saved me? No… more than that. You taught me how to use the internal usage of my modifiers, so that means I got Perfectly rejuvenated? I thought that only impacted you, hair. Wait, it was even improved, or at least the power of it was increased by ten percent from Akashic Interface. Did that only last a few seconds? Or did it activate for only a few seconds, but apply continuous healing to me until it was Perfectly done? Wait, the fact I could use my skill modifiers like this means… you are considered to be an artifact? You're something other than only hair, if nothing else.” 

Her hair went decidedly still, like an animal caught in the sights of a seasoned hunter. Goldie closed her eyes, pretending she didn't see anything. “Thank you. I'm not mad at you anymore. The skills you’ve given me are amazing, now that I’m not looking at them as the child version of myself once did, and… you saved me.”

The golden hair swept down, lightly caressing her cheek. The thief took yet another deep breath, simply exulting in the fact that she could, and pushed herself into a standing position. She wobbled for a moment, but to her surprise, not out of weakness. The direct opposite, in fact. Looking down at her arms, she moved them back and forth, finding them more responsive, stronger than she’d ever felt before. She looked up, catching her breath in shock as she saw a woman standing across from her.

Both of them flinched in tandem, and Goldie realized she was looking at her own reflection. She stepped forward, tentatively reaching out until she could touch the smooth surface and confirm the truth of what her eyes were telling her. “I'm unrecognizable.”

The ever-present dark circles under her eyes had faded away, her skin was free of the pallor of constant hunger and the abrasions from sores and biting insects. Her cheeks were fuller, flushed with a healthy glow. Only Goldie’s hair remained the same, shining with its vibrant luster as it fell in smooth waves down her back. “Perfect rejuvenation. Did it rebuild me from the ground up? How?”

Several containers she had used for foodstuffs, as well as a few other items clattered to the ground around her, causing Goldie to jump back and lift her fists. She slid across the floor before coming to a stop, unused to her suddenly increased strength. Only then did she realize the containers had fallen out of the storage in her hair, and she moved forward to look at them more closely. Everything that had been spewed out was damaged, eroded to the point of falling into dust or rust. “I don't understand. Did you somehow absorb those for me?” 

As per usual, there was no response, but Goldie felt she was on the right track. “My body couldn't have generated something from nothing, and I certainly didn't have anything extra for my healing to pull from… I'm not sure how you did this, but again… thank you.”

With one last long stare at the strange transformation she had undergone, Goldie pulled herself away from the mirror and began stalking toward the exit. Unexpectedly, as she rounded the corner and looked around, she found no one lying in wait, no one prepared to ambush her. Her eyes narrowed, and her hair fanned out around her, “No one I can see, that is.”

Creeping forward, she cast the strands of her hair out like a net, hoping to find Heidi before the woman could spear her once more. Goldie’s rejuvenation modifier remained dark, and something told her it would stay that way for a long time—certainly more than the hour-long cooldown of her Temporal Trapdoor. 

“Not that I’d want to get skewered again to test it out.” The thought alone was enough to make her shudder as a ghostly sensation of pain moved through her gut. She kept moving, yet no matter how cautious she was, Goldie simply couldn't find anyone lying in wait for her. Another turn, and a doorway yawned in front of her. Taking a deep breath, and feeling hopeful, she stepped forward…

…smack-dab into a mirror. 

“Abyss!” she growled as she felt at her tender nose. “This floor is the absolute worst!”

She followed the angled mirror around, this time keeping her hand in front of her as she stepped through the actual doorway. There she met a grinning royal guardsman, whose smile only widened as she glared at him. 

“You got this close to being the first one to make it out of there without face-planting.” He rolled his eyes as she drew her battle scissors, motioning for her to follow him. “Don't be upset; you just made me a fortune. The odds kept increasing all the way up until the end there, so my last-minute bet just earned me a year's pay. Anyway, I’m glad to see you got through there in one piece. In case you were wondering, you were out cold for nearly two days straight. We almost sent someone to haul your body out of there, but one of the spectators noticed that your flesh was knitting itself back together under all the cold, congealed blood.”

“Any chance of a bath?” Goldie angrily rumbled at the nearly skipping guard, who simply shook his head in the negative.

“Only if you want every spectator out in the stands to watch-”

“Never mind. I'll stay filthy,” Goldie spat with disgust as her escort chuckled. 

“Let me tell you what the next task is.” The guard stopped at a door, pulling it open to reveal a spiral staircase going upward. His attitude shifted, his mirth replaced with a steadfast stare. “Three people from your cohort are ahead of you, but they’ve already moved on to the fifth floor. Put any thoughts of being able to escape and serve in the palace out of your mind unless you’re the first to complete the fifth and most difficult floor. However… that’s not what I’m here to tell you about. The fourth floor is extremely straightforward. The queen has dubbed this floor the ‘Trial of Compassion Trial’.”

Goldie squinted at him, trying to decide if he was making a joke. “That seems… repetitive, out of character, and repetitive?”

“What are you trying to say?” His hand fell to the hilt of his sword. “Our queen is mighty and just.”

“It just seems strange that she would give us a simple task after all of these major ones.” Goldie shrugged non-committedly, trying to appear casual, even as her muscles tensed in preparation of leaping away. 

“Hmph. Watch your tone when you speak of the queen.” The guard relaxed, then started again, “All you, the candidate, need to do is figure out who among the group of people waiting for you in the next room is the worst criminal and execute them for their crimes. Now, everyone in there is guilty of some crime against the crown, we are sure of it. But only one has been placed in the room for the wanton slaughter of citizens. All you need to do is cut down any one of the criminals, and the door forward will open for you. Show the royal family your strength of will, your ambition, and that you can do what is necessary for the law to be upheld.”

Goldie, who had frozen in place, was shoved forward and onto the stairs by the guard. Before he slammed it shut behind her, he offered one last piece of advice at a whisper.

“Also, the worst and strongest among them isn’t actually tied in place, unlike the others. He also has a weapon, so if you choose the convicted murderer and attempt to fell him, he will fight back when you attempt to land a lethal blow. The others… not so much.”