The equipment district sprawled before them like a small city unto itself, packed with vendors hawking everything from rusty daggers to gleaming suits of armor that hummed with arcane energy. The morning sun cast long shadows between the stalls, and the air buzzed with the sounds of hammering, haggling, and the occasional demonstration of magical weapons that sent sparks flying overhead.
James and Astor wove through the crowd, taking in the overwhelming array of options. Weapons racks displayed swords, axes, bows, and stranger implements whose purposes weren't immediately clear. Armor stands held leather jerkins next to chainmail next to what appeared to be robes that shimmered with protective enchantments. The clientele was equally diverse: scarred veterans examining blade edges with critical eyes, nervous newcomers clutching lists of recommended gear, and everything in between.
"Information first," James reminded himself, spotting a modest stall tucked between a weapons vendor and an alchemical supplies shop. A weathered sign hung above it reading "Malik's Intelligence - Knowledge Worth Your Life."
Behind the counter sat a thin man with prematurely gray hair and sharp eyes that seemed to catalog every detail of anyone who approached. His fingers were stained with ink, and scrolls covered every available surface of his cramped workspace.
"Malik?" Astor asked, approaching the stall.
"Depends on who's asking and what they want to know," the man replied, not looking up from a ledger he was scribbling in. "Information costs silver. Good information costs more silver. Information that might save your life in the trials?" He glanced up, meeting their eyes. "That's worth whatever you can afford to pay."
"We're new to the area," James said carefully. "Looking for basic orientation. What should first-time participants expect from the early maze trials?"
Malik set down his quill and leaned back, studying them with the practiced eye of someone who'd sized up countless desperate participants. "First time, eh? Let me guess. You've heard the bare minimum from Henrik at the tavern, maybe picked up some gossip from other travelers, but nobody's told you what really matters."
"What really matters?" Astor asked.
"The mazes aren't just about combat. They're about choices. Every decision you make gets recorded, analyzed, and used to determine what comes next. Show too much mercy, you'll face trials designed to exploit that weakness. Display ruthless efficiency, and the maze will test whether you can maintain your humanity." Malik pulled out a worn scroll and unrolled it partially. "Maze 1 through 10 are the foundation tests. They establish your baseline: combat capability, problem-solving, teamwork dynamics, moral flexibility."
James felt his pulse quicken. "Teamwork dynamics?"
"Oh yes. Even when the maze splits you up, which it often does, it's watching how you interact with allies, enemies, and neutral parties. Some participants try to go it alone, thinking that makes them safer." Malik's laugh was bitter. "Those ones rarely make it past Maze 5."
"What kind of challenges should we expect in Maze 1?" Astor pressed.
Malik held up a finger. "That'll be five silver for basic maze structure, ten for tactical advice, fifteen for the kind of details that might mean the difference between coming back here for Maze 2 or becoming another cautionary tale."
James and Astor exchanged glances. They had twenty-three silver remaining, enough for information and basic gear if they were careful. "Ten silver," James decided. "Tactical advice."
Malik nodded approvingly and accepted the coins. "Smart choice. Maze 1 is called 'The Proving Ground' for good reason. It typically consists of three stages: individual skill assessment, group coordination challenge, and a moral choice scenario. The exact details vary, but the pattern's consistent."
He unrolled more of the scroll, revealing hand-drawn maps and diagrams. "Individual assessment usually tests your class abilities under pressure. Combat scenarios for fighters, puzzle-solving for mental classes, healing challenges for support roles. The maze adapts based on your registered class, so don't think you can fake your way through."
"Group coordination gets interesting because the maze will often pair you with strangers, sometimes even people who were your enemies in previous trials. It's testing whether you can work with others even when trust is scarce."
"And the moral choice?" Astor asked.
"That's where most people stumble. The maze presents scenarios where there's no clearly right answer. Save one person or save five? Preserve valuable resources or help someone in need? Trust information from a questionable source or maintain ignorance?" Malik's expression grew serious. "Here's the key: the maze doesn't care what choice you make, only that you're capable of making one decisively. Hesitation kills more participants than monsters do."
James absorbed this information, thinking about his Oracle abilities and the deception he'd maintained about his true class. Would the maze's assessment expose him? Could he maintain the pretense of being purely a Healer under that kind of scrutiny?
"Equipment recommendations?" he asked.
"Basic protection first, reliable weapon second, utility items third," Malik rattled off. "Don't go overboard on your first run. The maze provides what you need for specific challenges, but having your own gear means you're not dependent on what it gives you."
They thanked Malik and moved deeper into the equipment district, his advice echoing in their minds. The individual assessment would definitely test James's deception about his class, but perhaps he could frame his Oracle abilities as enhanced Healer intuition. It was risky, but he'd managed it so far.
Their first stop was a weapons stall run by a gruff dwarf whose arms were scarred from decades of smithing work. Swords of various lengths and styles filled the display, from delicate rapiers to massive two-handed broadswords.
"What's your experience level?" the dwarf asked, noting James's interest in the blade selection.
"Basic training, preference for speed over power," James replied, which was essentially true. His instincts seemed to favor quick, precise strikes over heavy swings.
The dwarf nodded and pulled out a shortsword with a well-balanced blade and a grip wrapped in worn leather. "Practical choice. Good reach for close combat, light enough for extended use, versatile enough for both offense and defense." He demonstrated the blade's balance, spinning it effortlessly around his finger. "Enchantment keeps the edge sharp and prevents rust. Four silver."
James hefted the weapon, testing its weight. It felt right in his hand, like an extension of his arm rather than a foreign object. "I'll take it."
Astor chose a curved dagger that complemented his Phase Step ability, allowing him to strike quickly after becoming incorporeal. "For when I need to hit something immediately after phasing back in," he explained.
For armor, they selected matching sets of reinforced leather that offered protection without limiting mobility. The leather was treated with something that made it resistant to both cuts and magical attacks, though the vendor warned them it wouldn't stop everything.
"Think of it as insurance, not invincibility," the armor seller advised. "It'll turn aside glancing blows and reduce the impact of direct hits, but don't rely on it to save you from stupid decisions."
Their final purchases were practical supplies: rope, a basic first aid kit, water bottles that never emptied completely due to minor enchantments, and rations that would remain edible far longer than normal food. These cost them their remaining silver, leaving them equipped but financially depleted.
As they made their way back toward Henrik's tavern to collect their belongings, James noticed the crowd had changed. More people wore gear similar to what they'd just purchased, and conversations had shifted from casual commerce to focused preparation. The morning's relaxed atmosphere was giving way to something more urgent.
"Look around," Astor murmured. "Everyone's getting ready for something."
[Time until Maze 1 Challenge]: 2:43:17 hours
The approaching trial was affecting the entire district. Vendors were packing away their most expensive items, participants were conducting final gear checks, and an undercurrent of nervous energy ran through every interaction.
Back at the tavern, Henrik greeted them with knowing nods. "Got yourselves kitted out proper, I see. Smart lads." He leaned across the bar conspiratorially. "Word of advice for your first maze run: trust your instincts, but don't trust them blindly. The Domain likes to mess with people's intuition, make them second-guess themselves at critical moments."
"Any other wisdom from someone who's seen a lot of participants come and go?" James asked.
Henrik's expression grew thoughtful. "The ones who survive long-term aren't necessarily the strongest or the smartest. They're the ones who adapt fastest to changing circumstances. The maze will throw things at you that don't make sense, situations that violate everything you think you know about how things should work." He tapped his temple. "Flexibility up here matters more than strength in your sword arm."
They collected their few possessions and prepared to leave. The Oracle's Key pulsed faintly in James's inventory, responding to something he couldn't identify. His shortsword hung comfortably at his side, and the leather armor felt like a second skin. Whatever the maze held, they were as ready as they could be with limited resources and knowledge.
"No matter what happens in there," Astor said as they stepped out into the afternoon sun, "we stick together. The maze might try to separate us, but we find ways to support each other."
James nodded, though he wondered how long he could maintain his deception under the maze's scrutiny. The individual assessment would test his abilities directly, and Oracle skills were distinctly different from pure Healer capabilities. But Henrik was right about adaptability. When the moment came, he'd find a way to make it work.
The equipment district continued its preparations around them, a community of warriors, scholars, and survivors all facing the same uncertain future. In a few hours, they'd enter a trial designed to measure their worth as potential participants in something larger and more dangerous than any of them fully understood.