Re:Birth: A Slow Burn LitRPG Mage Regressor

Meeting a sphinx was rarely good news.

Sure, they were magnificent creatures, guardians of ancient knowledge and sacred places - but they also had this rather unfortunate habit of eating people who couldn’t answer their riddles. Which, historically speaking, was most people.

The whole setup was rather unfair, really. Here you had beings who’d spent centuries, or even millennia contemplating the mysteries of existence, asking impossible questions to folks who were just trying to get through their day without being eaten by a giant cat-bird-person hybrid.

Not that anyone would point this out to a sphinx. That would be the kind of mistake you’d only make once.

And of course, because the universe had a sense of humor that bordered on sadistic, sphinxes were almost always found in exactly the places you couldn’t avoid - guarding ancient treasures, protecting forbidden knowledge, or, in this particular case, serving as the arbiter of a Test of Wisdom in a magical labyrinth designed by someone who clearly enjoyed watching people suffer.

At least they were better than dragons. Dragons just ate you without the courtesy of a philosophical discussion first.

Or so Adom heard.

The sphinx lounged across the chamber’s entrance, its massive form both graceful and terrifying. Golden fur rippled over muscles that could tear a man in half without effort. Its wings, folded now, stretched halfway up the cavern walls - each feather edged in metallic bronze. A golden monocle glinted over its right eye, somehow making its leonine features even more unsettling.

Its tail - thick as a young tree - swished lazily against the stone floor as it studied them, head tilted at an angle that somehow managed to look both regal and predatory. A deep purr rumbled through the chamber, like distant thunder trapped underground.

”Hello, friends,” it said pleasantly, voice rich and cultured despite coming from a mouth filled with teeth longer than daggers.

”We’re not your friends,” Bob growled, still planted firmly between Adom and the sphinx. Several gears dropped from his beard, their multiplication making a small cascade of metallic sounds. ”And don’t try any of that riddle nonsense with us, you overgrown house cat.”

Adom barely registered Bob’s protective hostility.

He was too busy staring at the monocle. Of all the bizarre things he’d seen in this labyrinth - and there had been many - somehow a sphinx wearing a monocle felt like it should have been mentioned in at least one of the ancient texts.

The sphinx adjusted said monocle with one massive paw, the gesture so prim and proper it bordered on absurd. ”Such hostility. And here I was, preparing my best riddles.”

”Right then. We’ll just be on our way,” Bob said, backing up slowly and pulling Adom with him. ”No need to bother a... distinguished creature such as yourself.”

The sphinx clicked its tongue - an oddly human gesture from a decidedly inhuman mouth. Its chuckle echoed off the chamber walls. ”I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

”And why’s that?” Bob’s gears clinked a nervous rhythm.

”I am the guardian of this place.” The sphinx said, examining them like particularly interesting insects. ”Have been for...” It paused, considering. ”Well, long enough that things get rather dull. So you’ll have to play with me if you want to pass.” Its tail swished against the stone floor. ”Obviously.”

”What kind of ’game’ exactly?” Adom asked, eyeing the monocle that caught the light with each tilt of the sphinx’s massive head.

”Oh, not just one.” The sphinx said. ”I’ve been terribly bored, you see. Three or four wouldn’t be too much to ask for, would it?” It purred, a smile spreading across its feline features. ”Or five... even six, why not?” It looked positively delighted at the prospect, tail curling in obvious pleasure.

Adom frowned. This casual ”maybe this many, maybe more” approach felt wrong.

”What is it then?” Bob’s gears clinked impatiently.

”My, aren’t we hasty?” The sphinx stretched, claws scraping against stone. ”I’ve had quite a lot of time to think about this. First would be a riddle-”

”Bloody hell, I knew it!” Bob spat, gears flying. ”You’re all the same, aren’t you? Always with the sodding riddles-”

The sphinx pressed a paw to its chest in mock offense. ”How terribly stereotypical of you. Next you’ll accuse me of eating failed contestants.”

”You don’t?” Adom asked.

”Oh no, I absolutely do,” the sphinx said, adjusting its monocle. ”But one shouldn’t judge a book by its number of teeth.” It threw its head back and laughed at its own joke, the sound bouncing off the walls.

”What’s the second?” Adom cut in.

The sphinx’s gaze swept over him, slow and considering, like a butcher appraising meat. Adom fought the urge to step back. ”For you two... a puzzle.”

”What kind of puzzle?” Bob demanded.

”Hmm. Perhaps we should focus on passing the first challenge before discussing the others, no?”

Adom and Bob exchanged glances. The Leprechaun cleared his throat, suddenly finding the floor very interesting.

”Now then,” the sphinx said, looking at them both. ”Which of you was it that passed the test of courage?”

”The laddie here,” Bob said, jerking a thumb toward Adom.

Before either could blink, the sphinx was there - right there - its massive head inches from Adom’s face. The speed of the movement was impossible for something so large. The displacement of air knocked loose crystals from the walls.

”Bloody hell!” Bob cursed, stumbling backward.

Adom took one step back but held his ground, though his heart hammered against his ribs. The sphinx’s breath was hot against his face, smelling of ancient stone and something metallic.

”Fascinating,” it purred, studying him with eyes like molten gold. ”I didn’t expect a boy to be the one. They usually break so easily.” Its tail swished with interest. ”Tell me, little human - how do you feel? Any... changes you’ve noticed?”

The sphinx loomed so close Adom could see himself reflected in its massive golden eyes - a pale, exhausted figure with shadows under his eyes he didn’t remember having before. His hair was matted with sweat, face drawn tight with tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying.He opened his mouth to ask it to back away, but the sphinx spoke first.

”Was it horrible?” it purred, whiskers twitching with excitement. ”Traumatizing? How many times did you die? How long did you spend in there? I heard it was quite... exquisite in its cruelty.”

A laugh rumbled from its throat, and something in Adom snapped.

He had, until that moment, managed to push most of it away - like waking from a nightmare that immediately starts to fade. The memories were there but distant, blurred, safer when kept unfocused. But the sphinx’s words dragged them back into sharp relief: the feeling of his bones breaking, the sound of his own screams, the endless, endless dying-

”Did you scream each time? Did you-”

Blue mana erupted around Adom’s hand, responding to a rage he didn’t even know he was feeling. The spell formed almost by itself, raw and violent, seeking release-

Bob’s hand clamped around his wrist. ”Don’t.”

The sphinx’s smile widened, showing every one of its gleaming teeth. ”You should listen to your friend, little human. Though I must say, that reaction was... illuminating.”

”Back off,” Adom said, voice tight. ”Please.”

The sphinx inclined its head and retreated with fluid grace, still wearing that knowing smile. ”As you wish.”

The sphinx glided back, and Adom drew in a long, shaky breath. Released it slowly. His hand trembled in Bob’s grip - residual magic or anger or fear, he couldn’t tell which.

Bob released him gently. ”I know, lad. I know it was hard.” His voice dropped lower, meant just for Adom. ”Been trapped here centuries meself, never managed that test. Not once.” Another gear gear fell. ”But right now we need you calm. Let’s get through this first, then you can fall apart all you want.”

”My, my,” the sphinx drawled. ”A leprechaun dispensing wisdom! How novel. Perhaps centuries of imprisonment do have their benefits after all?”

Bob ignored it completely, his attention still on Adom.

”Oh, no sense of humor at all,” the sphinx sighed, tail flicking with mock disappointment. Its expression brightened suddenly, monocle glinting. ”So! The riddle!”

”Hmm. Never been... ah... particularly good with riddles, lad,” Bob muttered, looking at Adom. ”More of a hit-things-until-they-stop-moving sort of fellow.”

”Wonderful timing for that confession,” the sphinx said, settling into a more comfortable position. ”Now then, the rules are simple. One question. But...” Its monocle caught the light. ”If one of you fails, you both fail. And if you both fail...”

The sphinx smiled, revealing far too many teeth.

”Bloody bollocks,” Bob whispered.

Adom’s eyes darted around the chamber while Bob and the sphinx traded barbs.

Circular room, about forty feet across. High ceiling lost in shadow. Two exits - the one they’d come through, and another across the room. Columns every ten feet or so. If it came to a fight...

[Identify]

[Name: Alexandros the Knowing]

[Race: Greater Sphinx]

[State: Amused/Anticipating]

[Traits:

Ancient BeingGuardian of KnowledgeReality Warper (Local)Immune to Mental Effects]The results made his throat go dry.

Those weren’t the stats of something they could fight. Not here, not in its domain. The ”Reality Warper (Local)” trait alone...

”Well then,” Alexandros purred, settling into a crouch like an oversized house cat. Its wings folded neatly against its sides. ”Shall we begin with your first question?”

”Hang on,” Bob raised a hand. ”Don’t we get to confer or something first?”

”Oh, by all means.” The sphinx’s tail swished. ”Take all the time you need. I’ve waited centuries - what’s a few more minutes?”

Adom leaned closer to Bob, keeping his voice low. ”See that exit behind it? If we-”

”Don’t even finish that thought, lad,” Bob whispered back, eyes fixed on the sphinx. ”Look at how it’s positioned. That’s not just lounging - it’s got every angle covered. And...” He nodded subtly toward the ceiling. ”It’s got wings. Sphinxes are absolute masters of their territories - they don’t just guard them, they ARE the territory. Running isn’t an option.”

The sphinx’s monocle glinted as it watched their exchange with obvious amusement, like someone observing mice discussing how to outsmart a cat. Its tail kept drawing lazy patterns on the stone floor.

”Right then,” Bob sighed. ”Suppose we’ll have to do this properly.” He straightened up, beard clinking softly. ”Give us your worst, you pretentious feline.”

”Oh, I intend to.”

Alexandros cleared its throat - a sound somewhere between a purr and thunder - and spoke in a voice that seemed to resonate throughout the chamber:

”Three scholars seek truth in their own way,

The first through books that cannot lie,

The second through deeds that cannot hide,

The third through hearts that cannot die.

When darkness falls and truth is lost,

Which path led furthest from the light?”

The words hung in the air.

”You have one hour,” the sphinx said casually, examining its claws. ”Oh, and silly me - I nearly forgot the rest of the rules.”

Its smile widened incrementally.

”Each wrong answer costs you one of your senses. Both of you. And once you’re out of senses...” It let the implication hang. ”Also, any attempt to communicate your thoughts about the answer counts as an answer itself. Oh, and if one of you gets it wrong...” It gestured between them with a massive paw. ”Well, you both suffer the consequences.”

”Hold on, that’s not how you-” Bob’s face turned an impressive shade of red. ”You can’t just add rules after- Huh?”

The leprechaun stopped mid-sentence, his nose twitching. Adom noticed it too - or rather, noticed the absence of it. The musty chamber air, the ozone tang, the sphinx’s peculiar scent - all gone. Just... nothing.

”Ah,” Alexandros purred, ”I see you’ve discovered what happens when you protest the rules. Shall we count that as your first wrong answer? One sense down, four to go.”

Adom’s brows furrowed as he watched Bob’s mouth open and close soundlessly, the leprechaun’s face cycling through several interesting shades of purple. The sphinx just sat there, monocle glinting, looking for all the world like a cat that had just been served a particularly fine cream.

The chamber suddenly felt much smaller.

Adom stared at the sphinx’s smug face, fighting down an overwhelming urge to punch that monocle right through its skull. Not that he could - the [Identify] results had made that clear enough - but the fantasy was satisfying.

Everything about these rules was designed to isolate them. No communication? Shared punishments? It wasn’t just about solving the riddle - it was about breaking any chance of cooperation. Divide and conquer.

He glanced at Bob, who was still doing his best impression of a kettle about to boil over. The leprechaun had admitted he wasn’t good with riddles, true, but...

Adom’s fingers twitched, half-forming the gestures for a Message spell before stopping. Would that count as communication? Probably. The sphinx seemed the type to count even raised eyebrows as an answer attempt. And they couldn’t afford to lose another sense.

But then again, did he really need Bob’s help? The leprechaun had straight-up admitted to being terrible at riddles. Maybe it would be better to just-

No.

Adom forced himself to focus. One hour. Limited senses. The smart play was solving the riddle first, then figuring out how to share the answer. No point in creating the perfect communication system if they didn’t know what to communicate.

Three scholars. Truth. Books that cannot lie, deeds that cannot hide, hearts that cannot-

”Knowledge!” Bob’s voice cut through his concentration, stern and confident.

Adom’s thoughts screeched to a halt. He blinked.

Did... did Bob just...?

”Incorrect,” the sphinx purred, sounding absolutely delighted.

This damned fae...

Adom’s hands clenched into fists, his mouth opening to scream at Bob - but he caught himself just in time. His tongue suddenly felt... wrong. Dead. Like trying to taste with a piece of leather in his mouth.

The second sense. Taste. Gone.

Adom whirled on Bob, gesturing wildly - what were you thinking, why would you just blurt out an answer, are you trying to get us both killed? His hands moved in increasingly agitated patterns while the leprechaun shrunk back, hands moving in frantic patterns of regret..

And then... nothing.

The sphinx’s tail was swishing against stone. But there was no sound. None at all. The absolute silence pressed against his ears like cotton wool, making his head spin.

Then Adom realized their mistake. They were communicating. Right in front of the sphinx.

Three senses gone.

Sight and touch left.

And still... fifty-four minutes on the clock.

Adom sat down cross-legged on the stone floor. Panicking wouldn’t help. Getting angry at Bob’s impulsiveness wouldn’t help. And gesturing wildly definitely wouldn’t help - they’d learned that lesson the hard way.

Three scholars seeking truth. Each with their own methodology. Books that cannot lie - perhaps representing pure knowledge, academic pursuit. But no, that was exactly what Bob had guessed, and the sphinx had shot it down.

Movement caught his eye. The sphinx was... grooming itself. Like a housecat.

It noticed him watching and waved cheerfully, somehow managing to make even that simple gesture insufferably smug.

Adom quickly looked away.

He glanced up at Bob, who sat with his eyes closed, completely still. Was he... meditating? In the middle of a life-or-death riddle game?

Focus.

A dull throb had started behind Adom’s eyes, growing steadily more insistent. He rubbed his temples with a grimace.

Deeds that cannot hide - actions, perhaps? The physical manifestation of truth? And hearts that cannot die... emotion? Faith? Love?

But then there was that last part. ”When darkness falls and truth is lost.” A test, then. When everything goes wrong, which path remains truest?

Faith seemed like a strong contender. When all else fails, belief endures. But... no. Too obvious. Sphinxes didn’t pose riddles with obvious answers. That was the whole point.

Experience, maybe? Deeds that cannot hide - practical knowledge earned through action rather than study. When everything falls apart, experience remains.

He had that and faith as possible answers. Two chances left. If either was wrong...

Bob hadn’t moved an inch, still sitting there like some bizarre statue. What was he...?

No. Focus. Think.

The key had to be in that last line. ”Which path led furthest from the light.” Not closest to truth, but furthest from light. Was it a trick question? Was the answer about which path was wrong rather than right?

His head hurt. Was the Sphynx doing something?

Two answers. Two chances. And absolute silence to think in.

Thirty minutes passed.

Wisdom, experience, faith, emotion, belief, instinct, truth itself, memory, love, conscience - each answer seemed perfectly logical until he examined it from another angle. Then it would fall apart, and he’d be back to square one.

Movement drew his attention. Bob was getting up, his movements deliberate and slow. Adom watched, puzzled, as the leprechaun walked over and sat directly in front of him. What was he doing?

Adom looked away, his gaze finding the sphinx instead. It had stopped its grooming, head tilted, watching them with unblinking eyes. He tried to ignore Bob’s presence, tried to return to his mental list of possible answers, but...

From the corner of his eye, he could see Bob’s hand moving against the stone floor. Was he writing something? No, that would count as communication, wouldn’t it? The sphinx wasn’t stopping him. In fact...

The massive creature padded closer, moving with liquid grace until it loomed over them both. Its shadow fell across Adom’s face as it bent down, that eternal smile still fixed in place, waiting. Expecting.

Why wasn’t it stopping Bob? Why was it waiting for Adom to look down? Was this another trick? Another trap?

If Bob was risking this, it had to be important. Right?

...Right?

After a moment’s hesitation, Adom looked down.

One word: MIND

Darkness immediately slammed into him like a physical blow. He almost chuckled - of course. Of course the sphinx would let them have that one last exchange, just to take another sense. Bastard probably had that smug smile plastered across its face right now.

His heart raced. One chance left. One single chance before the final sense would be stripped away, leaving them helpless prey for the sphinx. The pressure of it made his thoughts scatter like startled birds.

Again. Focus.

Mind? What did that have to do with anything? He’d been considering wisdom, knowledge, emotion, faith... but mind? He turned the word over in his thoughts, trying to connect it to the riddle. Three scholars, books, deeds, hearts... was Bob onto something, or had they just wasted their second-to-last sense on a dead end?

Only touch remained now. And twenty-five minutes to solve this in complete darkness and silence.

At least he wouldn’t have to look at that monocled face anymore.

The headache intensified.

Mind... no, that couldn’t be the answer. It was too simple, didn’t fit the structure of the riddle at all. Which meant Bob was trying to tell him something else.

Mind. Mind magic?

Oh?

Oh!

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The realization hit. Bob wasn’t giving him an answer. He was most likely telling Adom to lower his mental defenses. But why would he...?

Unless...

[Indomitable Will]

In the darkness and silence, Adom carefully, deliberately, let his mental barriers drop. It felt like unclenching a muscle he hadn’t known was tense - the mental equivalent of finally releasing a breath held for so long he’d forgotten he was holding it.

Almost immediately, heaviness crept through his body. His muscles felt like lead, his thoughts growing sluggish. Even through touch alone, he could feel himself sliding sideways, stone floor cool against his cheek.

The last thing he registered before consciousness fled was the faint sensation of falling, falling, falling...

The sensation of stone against his cheek vanished, replaced by soft grass beneath his feet. Sunlight filtered through leaves above, birds called to each other in the canopy, and a warm breeze carried the scent of wildflowers.

”Took you long enough.”

Bob sat on a fallen log, looking exactly as he had in the real world, but somehow... more at ease. More in his element.

”Almost thought I’d made a mistake, thinking you were smart.”

”You can dream walk?” Adom blurted out, still trying to process the shift from dark silence to this vibrant forest.

Dream walking was, at its core, a specialized form of mind magic that let the user enter and manipulate the dreams of others. Unlike regular mind magic that affected consciousness directly, dream walking operated in that strange space between sleeping and waking - the realm where minds naturally drifted during sleep.

Most creatures capable of it were spirits, beings of pure mind and energy who could slip between dreams as easily as humans walked through doorways. Some particularly skilled mages could manage it too, though it took years of study and precise control.

Which made Bob’s ability all the more puzzling.

Leprechauns were magical creatures, yes, but they weren’t spirits. They were firmly physical beings, known more for their crafting abilities and mischievous nature than any sort of mind magic. Yet here he was, casually strolling through Adom’s dreamspace like he owned it.

”How are you even doing this?” Adom asked, watching a butterfly that seemed to be made of liquid gold float past his nose.

”We don’t have time for magical theory right now,” Bob cut him off, waving a hand dismissively. ”Where are you at with the riddle?”

”Right.” Adom nodded, pushing back his questions for later - assuming there would be a later. ”I’ve got about ten possibilities. Faith, experience, wisdom, memory... but none of them feel quite right. They all fall apart when I look at them too closely.”

”Let’s break this down, lad,” Bob said, conjuring two more logs for them to sit on. ”Time’s slipperier than a greased pig in here, so we’ve got to make haste. What’s got your mind in knots?”

”The scholars,” Adom began, settling onto one of the logs. ”Three different approaches to truth. Books, deeds, hearts - knowledge, action, and feeling. But then it asks which path led furthest from the light, not closest to truth.”

”Ach, could be a trick question,” Bob muttered, picking at some moss. ”Reminds me of me cousin Tommy, the wee devil. Caught him nicking me gold, he did. Swore on his mother’s grave he’d never tell me another lie. Kept his word too - stopped talking to me altogether, the crafty little shite.”

”What did you say?”

”Eh? About Tommy? Just that the lying gobshite kept his word by not speaking to me at all instead of-”

”No, before that. About it being a trick question.” Adom stood up, pacing. ”We’re looking at it wrong. We’re assuming the scholars are searching for truth together, but what if they’re not? What if they’re competing?”

Bob shrugged. ”Makes sense, don’t it? Put three folk in a room, they’ll be at each other’s throats before you can say ’top o’ the morning.’”

”And each would believe their way is right...” Adom’s mind was racing now. ”Books cannot lie - but they can be misinterpreted. Deeds cannot hide - but their meaning can be twisted. Hearts cannot die - but they can be...”

The dream-forest darkened suddenly. Bob leapt to his feet with a string of colorful curses. ”The beastie’s found us!”

The trees began to twist, their branches turning to writhing shadows. The golden butterfly from earlier melted, its wings dripping onto the forest floor like molten metal.

”When darkness falls and truth is lost,” a familiar voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere. The sphinx materialized from the shadows, but wrong - too many teeth, too many eyes, its monocle reflecting impossible geometries.

”Well, well, well,” it purred, each word distorting the dream further. ”Aren’t you two a clever pair?”

”Seven seconds,” the sphinx’s distorted voice reverberated through the twisting dreamscape. ”Shall we count together?”

”Go feck yourself, you pompous cat!” Bob snarled, stepping in front of Adom. ”If you want a fight-”

”Six...”

The forest was collapsing inward, reality folding like wet paper.

”Five...”

”We were so close,” Adom muttered, his mind still racing. Books, deeds, hearts...

”Four...”

When darkness falls and truth is lost...

”Three...”

Each believing their path...

”Two...”

”BETRAYAL!” Adom screamed.

The countdown stopped. The dream froze mid-collapse, held in perfect stasis. The sphinx’s monstrous form paused, then melted away like morning mist, leaving only the familiar monocled face they knew. Its eternal smile faltered for just a moment.

”Oh,” it said, sounding almost disappointed. ”And here I was hoping you’d fail this one. No fun.”

The dream shattered-

Adom jerked awake, gasping, his sense of touch overwhelmed by the cold stone beneath him. Next to him, he heard Bob wheeze as consciousness returned.

”Congratulations,” came the sphinx’s voice, somehow managing to sound both pleased and annoyed at once. ”You have passed the riddles.”

”Ha! Knew you’d crack it, lad!” Bob wheezed between fits of laughter, slapping his knee. ”Clever as a fox in a henhouse, you are! Though I’ll tell you what - for a moment there, when that overgrown housecat started its countdown, I thought we were proper fecked!”

Adom barely heard him, too busy cursing his own curiosity.

All because he couldn’t leave a strange cave entrance alone. All because he had to know what was behind that glowing barrier. Now here he was, one test down, an even harder one ahead, and no way to turn back.

Bob was still going, practically dancing now. ”Did you see its face? Like someone poured salt in its sugar bowl, it was! Serves you right, you pompous-”

”If you’re quite finished celebrating the most elementary portion of our encounter,” the sphinx cut in, its voice dry as desert sand, ”we can proceed to what you’ve actually come here for.”

Both of them fell silent.

The sphinx’s smile widened just a fraction. ”The puzzles await.” Its tail swished lazily through the air. ”Shall we begin?”

As Bob continued his celebratory jig, Adom’s mind began to work in a different direction.

He studied the sphinx - its perfectly composed posture, that eternal smile, the way it watched them through that ridiculous monocle with barely concealed amusement.

A thought came to mind. They’d solved the riddles, yes. Barely. With luck and dream magic and split-second timing. And now... puzzles. After that, what? How many layers of challenge could this creature invent?

The answer was obvious: as many as it wanted.

There were no rules here except those the sphinx chose to enforce. No oversight, no limitations. It could keep adding conditions, raising difficulties, moving goalposts until they inevitably failed. And then... well, sphinxes weren’t known for letting their prey leave disappointed.

He watched Bob, still laughing and cursing in equal measure, and felt an unfamiliar darkness settle over his thoughts. If this trial was about wisdom, then the wise thing to do would be to get out of here. Not trying to solve puzzles and infinite riddles.

They needed an exit strategy.

Or - and the thought surprised him with how natural it felt - they needed to figure out how to kill a sphinx.

The sphinx’s paw moved through the air with deliberate grace, and suddenly there was an orb floating between them. About the size of a melon, its surface was a maze of interlocking runes that seemed to shift and dance in the cave’s dim light.

”One hour,” it said simply. ”No communication.” Its eyes flicked to Bob, who was already opening his mouth. ”No complaints.” The monocle glinted. ”And no magic.”

Adom’s hand, already halfway to the orb, froze. Runes without magic were like... like a book without words. The entire point of runic arrays was their ability to channel and shape magical energy. Even the simplest activation required mana.

Bob’s face was turning an interesting shade of red, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Adom’s arm twitched instinctively to stop him, but he caught himself - even that would have counted as communication.

The leprechaun’s face then went from red to purple, but he kept his mouth shut. Somehow.

Good.

The sphinx leaned forward slightly, tail curling with anticipation. ”Ah,” it sighed, watching Bob struggle against his own nature. ”Shame. I thought you’d make it funnier.”

The orb continued to float between them, its runes mockingly inert, while the sphinx settled back to watch.

Adom settled onto the cold floor, the orb’s shifting runes reflecting in his eyes. But his mind was elsewhere.

One hour. Not to solve a puzzle - to solve a sphinx.

He watched it from the corner of his eye. The way it lounged in the air as if gravity was merely a polite suggestion. The way shadows bent around it slightly wrong. Everything here moved to its will, reality itself bowing to its whims. In its domain, a sphinx was practically a god.

In its domain...

His fingers traced absent patterns in the dust as his mind raced. No one killed sphinxes because in their lairs, they were invincible. But outside... without their reality-bending powers... without their ability to strip senses and twist dreams...

The sphinx’s purr deepened as it watched him, clearly amused by whatever it thought he was plotting. Bob had settled into sullen silence, probably still fighting the urge to curse in seventeen different dialects.

Slowly, deliberately, Adom reached into his inventory and withdrew Garrett’s dimensional bag. The sphinx’s ears perked up with interest as he began methodically emptying it onto the floor. Gold coins clinked and rolled. Scrolls clattered. Potion bottles clinked against each other.

”Ooh,” the sphinx practically cooed, tail curling with curiosity. ”What are we doing here?” Its monocle glinted as it leaned forward to watch, clearly thinking this was part of some attempt at the puzzle.

The pile of items grew. More coins. A silver chalice. Three rubies. A lot of other things.

Bob’s eyes followed the gold with professional interest, but Adom kept his focus on the now-empty bag, mind racing through calculations and possibilities.

Runes were, at their core, instructions written into reality itself. The simplest ones were single commands - heat, light, force. But the real art came in their combination, the way they flowed into each other, each modification changing how mana moved through the whole array.

Dimensional bags were something else entirely. The rune that created their pocket dimensions was a masterpiece of magical engineering, refined over centuries. What had once been a sprawling array of hundreds of interconnected symbols had been gradually compressed, simplified, optimized.

The modern version looked almost elegant: three concentric circles, crossed by lines that bent at precisely calculated angles, with smaller symbols nestled in the spaces between - like a mandala designed by a mathematician with an obsession for spatial geometry.

Here was the neat part: the rune was actually terrifyingly unstable.

The only reason dimensional bags worked at all was because of the layers of security runes wrapped around them, preventing any tampering with the dimensional matrix. Without those safeguards, the pocket dimension would collapse in on itself, creating a vacuum that would try to equalize with reality.

Anything nearby would be pulled in until the pocket was full, at which point it would seal permanently - a one-way trip into a space between spaces.

Only someone either suicidally brave or stubbornly desperate would even consider bypassing those security runes to mess with the dimensional matrix itself. Someone who knew exactly what they were doing - or exactly what they wanted to break. A runicologist.

Adom, staring at his empty bag while the sphinx watched with growing curiosity, was definitely all of the above.

Ha. Haha...

With practiced precision, Adom dragged his thumbnail across his palm, letting blood well up. Blood was, after all, the most basic magical conductor - far less detectable than actively channeling mana. The sphinx continued watching, head tilted, as Adom pretended to examine the bag’s outer surface.

The security runes were simple enough to bypass if you knew what you were looking for. Three key points, modified with exactly two drops of blood each. The standard Arnstadt configuration, used in nearly all modern dimensional bags. The blood seeped into the leather, and he felt the first layer of protection dissolve.

The second layer was trickier. Temporal locks, designed to prevent exactly this kind of tampering by desynchronizing the rune matrix from local time. But they had a weakness - they were calibrated assuming someone would try to rush the process. Moving deliberately slowly, he traced the counterpattern with his bloodied nail, letting each line stabilize before moving to the next. Fifteen seconds per stroke. Enough time for the temporal disruption to normalize.

Finally, he reached the dimensional rune itself. The real artistry wasn’t in breaking it - that was easy. The challenge was modifying it just enough to create instability while maintaining directional control. Too much damage and the vacuum would pull everything in. Too little and it wouldn’t activate at all.

He altered three key vertices, using the bag’s own geometric pattern as a guide. Each vertex needed to be shifted just enough to create instability - about one-eighth of the distance to their nearest neighboring rune.

Too far would cause immediate collapse, too little would fail to compromise the matrix. After years of studying runic arrays, his fingers knew the exact distance by feel, like a locksmith sensing tumbler positions.

The blood seeped into the final marks, and he felt the matrix shiver, holding itself together by a thread. Like a dam with hairline cracks, just waiting for the right pressure.

The intact bag in his hands meant success - the dimensional matrix was now like a coiled spring, waiting for its trigger. One opening was all it would take. The bag closed with a soft click.

”No solution yet?” the sphinx asked, its voice dripping with false sympathy. ”Thirty minutes remaining.”

Adom looked up at the creature and smiled. Not a nervous smile, or a defeated one, but the kind of smile that made the sphinx’s own falter for just a fraction of a second.

”And what,” it asked, monocle glinting, ”could possibly be amusing you at this moment?”

Adom kept smiling, tilting his head slightly as if to say ’you know I can’t answer that.’

The sphinx’s tail twitched - the first genuine sign of irritation he’d seen from it. ”Oh, come now. I said you couldn’t communicate with each other. I never said anything about speaking with me.”

Of course you didn’t, Adom thought, maintaining his smile. And if I’d tried to point that out earlier, you’d have created a new rule on the spot.

But now... now he just needed to figure out how to get an ancient, reality-bending creature of pure cunning to stick its head in a bag.

”Hey. What are your thoughts on time travel?” Adom asked casually, running his fingers along the bag’s edge.

The sphinx blinked. ”You do realize you have thirty minutes left?” A pause. ”Twenty-nine, now.”

”Yes.”

”And you wish to spend your remaining time discussing theoretical impossibilities?” Its tail swished lazily. ”If those are to be your last moments, who am I to deny you?”

”Impossibilities?” Adom’s smile widened fractionally. There it was - that slight shift in the sphinx’s posture, that barely perceptible lean forward. For all their power, sphinxes had one consistent weakness: they couldn’t resist new knowledge. And what could be more tempting than something they believed impossible?

”Time travel,” the sphinx stated flatly, ”is a magical impossibility. The mana requirements alone-”

”What if I could prove otherwise?”

The sphinx’s tail stopped mid-swish. Its eternal smile flickered, replaced for just a moment by something else - hunger. Not the physical kind it had shown before, but the intellectual variety. The need to know.

”Prove?” it purred, shifting slightly closer. ”And how would you propose to do that?”

”My arrival here is proof; I traveled from the future.”

Bob lifted his head.

The sphinx’s purr cut off abruptly. Its monocle actually slipped a fraction before realigning itself. For the first time, the creature’s composed demeanor cracked, revealing raw curiosity underneath.

”That’s...” it started, then paused, recalculating. ”You’re lying.”

”Am I?” Adom kept his voice carefully neutral. ”You can sense lies, can’t you? All sphinxes can. So tell me - am I lying? Alexandros?”

The sphinx’s composure shattered completely. Its monocle slipped off, dangling from its chain as its massive head jerked back in shock. ”Wait a minute... How could you possibly-”

”It’s a perk of time travel,” Adom said simply.

The creature’s tail had stopped moving entirely now. Its eyes narrowed, studying him with new intensity. Testing. Probing. Looking for the deception it was certain had to be there.

The silence stretched. The sphinx drifted closer, almost unconsciously, its scholarly nature warring with its certainty that time travel was impossible.

”Twenty-seven minutes,” it said finally, but its voice had lost its mocking edge. ”Explain.”

”The method is less important than the result.” Adom replied. Chuckling.

The sphinx’s eyes narrowed to slits. It despised not knowing - all sphinxes did. And now here was someone claiming to know something it didn’t, something it thought impossible, and refusing to share the details?

”Less important?” Its voice had dropped an octave, a hint of growl beneath the scholarly tone. The sphinx drifted even closer, almost at arm’s length now. ”You claim to have achieved what centuries of mages and archmages couldn’t even theorize properly, and you consider the method... less important?”

Adom kept his expression carefully neutral, though his heart was hammering. The bag felt heavy in his hands. Not yet. Not quite yet.

”The proof is in the result,” he said simply. ”Unless, of course, you’re not interested in seeing it?”

The sphinx’s tail was lashing now, its scholarly patience warring with growing frustration. ”Twenty-six minutes,” it said, but the time seemed almost an afterthought now. ”Show me.”

”Allow me to present the result.”

He lifted the bag slowly, deliberately, watching the sphinx’s eyes lock onto it with laser focus. The creature was practically hovering over him now, its scholarly demeanor completely overtaken by raw intellectual hunger. Even its monocle seemed to gleam with anticipation.

The perfect predator, about to become prey.

One movement. That’s all he would have. One chance to trigger the compromised dimensional matrix before the sphinx could react, before it could bend reality or strip his senses or simply tear him apart.

His fingers found the opening clasp.

Bob, forgotten in the corner, had gone completely still, as if sensing the tension in the air.

”Well?” the sphinx purred, leaning closer still, its eternal smile now tight with impatience. ”Show me this impossible-”

Click.

The vacuum erupted with the force of a collapsing star.

Reality warped and twisted as the compromised dimensional matrix tore open, creating a pull that made Adom’s bones vibrate. The sphinx’s eyes widened in that fraction of a second before understanding hit - literally.

”YOU DARE-” its roar cut short as the force yanked it forward. Its claws carved deep gouges into the stone floor, golden fur rippling in the dimensional wind. Bob dove behind a boulder, screaming something that would have made a sailor blush.

Adom braced himself behind the bag, feet sliding on the stone. The pull was stronger than he’d calculated - much stronger. His robes whipped violently, he was trying to maintain his glasses on his nose, and loose stones flew past his head into the void.

The sphinx’s rear half was already being drawn in, its form distorting as it fought against the dimensional pull. But instead of using its reality-bending powers, it was fully occupied with raw physical resistance, muscles straining, claws leaving molten streaks in the stone.

See, there’s a cruel irony in dimensional magic - for all its reality-warping might, a sphinx becomes as helpless as a kitten when caught between worlds. The bag’s maw had created a pocket where Alexandros’s powers meant nothing, like a king suddenly stripped of his crown and army the moment he steps into foreign lands.

Here, in this between-space, where the cave’s reality bled into the endless void of the bag, all the creature had were its muscles, claws, and increasingly desperate determination not to be pulled into a dimension it couldn’t bend to its will.

Hah. As if.

[Fireball]!

Adom’s spell struck true, engulfing the sphinx’s face. It screamed - not its usual controlled voice, but something ancient and furious.

[Lightning Chain]

[Force Bolt]

[Burning Arrow]

Each spell hammered into the creature as it struggled.

”FECKING BRILLIANT!” Bob emerged from cover, hurling his own arsenal. Daggers, coins, and what looked suspiciously like stolen silverware pelted the sphinx’s face.

But it was working free. Inch by terrible inch, its muscles straining, the sphinx was pulling itself out of the vortex. Its monocle had fallen, revealing an eye blazing with fury.

Adom’s mana was dropping fast - [200], [150], [100]... The spells weren’t enough. The bag needed to fill completely to seal, and the sphinx was too strong, too-

Oh!

”Bob! The bolt! NOW!”

The leprechaun understood instantly, tossing his prized multiplying bolt. Adom caught it and threw it into the vortex. The bolt split into two, then four, then sixteen, then hundreds, thousands, each copy striking the sphinx before being sucked into the void. A storm of metal, each hit driving the creature back slightly.

”HAH! EAT THAT, YE PRETENTIOUS FELINE!” Bob cackled.

The sphinx’s roar of rage turned to one of desperation as the combined force finally overwhelmed it. Its claws left burning trails in the air itself as it fought, but the vacuum was winning. Just a little more...

But Adom could see its wings starting to spread, preparing for one final effort. If it got them fully extended-

”No... NO-” The sphinx’s final scream cut off with a thunderous BOOM that shook the entire cave. The shockwave sent Adom cartwheeling through the air, his glasses vanishing into the void in the last instant before the bag sealed. Bob flew in the opposite direction with a string of creative curses that ended in a solid thunk against stone.

Dust filled the air, thick enough to choke on. Debris rained down from the ceiling, pinging off rocks and adding to the chaos.

”LAD! LAD, WHERE ARE YE?” Bob’s voice echoed through the haze.

Adom pushed himself up, every muscle screaming. ”Here,” he managed between coughs.

A wet, gurgling sound froze them both.

”Bloody hell,” Bob whispered. ”The bastard’s still-”

A weak curse in an ancient language drifted through the settling dust, followed by the sound of liquid spattering on stone.

Adom forced himself to his feet, vision blurry without his glasses. His mana reserves were dangerously low - barely enough for two more spells. But if he was going to die here anyway...

The dust began to clear.

The sealed bag lay innocently on the cave floor, looking almost pristine despite everything. Behind it...

The sphinx’s front half lay sprawled on the stone, the rest of its body cleanly severed where the dimensional pocket had sealed. Golden fur matted with ichor, wings broken and twisted at unnatural angles. One had been completely crushed by falling rocks. Its chest heaved with labored breaths, each one bringing fresh streams of golden fluid from its mouth.

But its eyes - its eyes were still sharp, still focused, still burning with intelligence as they fixed on Adom and Bob. Its eternal smile had finally vanished, replaced by a grimace of pain and fury.

”You...” it rasped, more ichor bubbling up. ”How... dare...”

Adom didn’t hesitate.

The Flamebrand Sword flashed in his grip as he lunged forward. No speeches. No final words. Just the brutal necessity of survival.

The blade struck true, slicing deep into the sphinx’s exposed neck with a wet, sickening sound. Golden ichor erupted in a pressurized spray, splattering across Adom’s face and chest in hot waves. The sphinx’s eyes widened - not in pain or fear, but in pure shock as its lifeblood pumped out in rhythmic pulses.

Its mouth opened in a silent scream, golden blood flowing between its teeth like molten metal. The creature thrashed wildly, its remaining claws carving deep furrows into the stone as Adom wrenched the blade sideways, severing arteries and muscle.

He drove the sword deeper, the edge grinding against vertebrae as he sawed through the thick neck. The sphinx’s remaining wing beat frantically, trying to escape, or maybe it was just a reflex.

Those ancient, intelligent eyes locked with his for one final moment. The knowledge in them clouded, dimmed, and finally went dark - like stars winking out one by one.

With a final effort, Adom pulled the blade free. The sphinx’s massive head dropped to the stone, nearly separated from its body. Golden ichor continued to pump from the ragged wound, pooling beneath the creature and steaming where it touched the stone.

Adom stepped back, his robes soaked with sphinx blood, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the reality of what he’d done settled over him.

”YE DID IT! YE ACTUALLY BLOODY DID IT!” Bob was jumping up and down, his hat long lost in the chaos. ”YOU THOUGHT YOU OUTSMARTED US, BUT WE OUTSMARTED YOUR OUTSMARTING!” His manic laughter echoed through the cave. ”ADOM! ADOM! ADOM!” His voice bounced off the walls like a victory chant. ”I’ve never- In all me years- A SPHINX! A bloody SPHINX!”

As Bob’s celebration continued, Adom examined the cleanly severed remains with a frown. The dimensional bag had cut directly through the sphinx’s chest cavity, taking its entire heart and who knows what else.

”Damn it,” he muttered, kicking at the stone floor in frustration.

”What’s wrong, lad?” Bob asked, pausing his victory dance.

”The heart’s gone,” Adom explained, gesturing to the clean slice through the sphinx’s torso. ”The bag took it. Perfect cut right through the chest cavity.”

”And that’s... bad?” Bob raised an eyebrow, already returning to scooping up scattered gold coins.

”No one’s killed a sphinx in centuries,” Adom said. ”Can you imagine what a sphinx heart would be worth? What it might do? That’s the kind of loot that would make this whole nightmare worthwhile!”

Bob scratched his beard thoughtfully. ”Any chance of getting it back out?”

Adom shook his head. ”Not unless you want to risk letting that thing out too. The dimensional matrix is completely compromised - opening it again would be...” He trailed off, there was no need to even finish that sentence.

”Right,” Bob nodded. ”Probably best to leave that particular treasure where it is, then. Besides,” he grinned, scooping up another handful of coins, ”plenty more where that came from!”

Adom sighed as a blue text materialized in his vision:

[Congratulations! You have completed the Trial of Wisdom!]

[Your ability to see through the sphinx’s deception and refuse to continue its game of riddles marks you as truly wise.]

[Rare Achievement: First sphinx slaying in 300 years]

Bob was still dancing around, picking up scattered gold coins and what remained of his multiplying bolt. ”We’re rich! We’re alive! And we’re bloody RICH!”

Adom’s ragged breathing slowly steadied as his body adjusted.[+3 White Wyrm Body]

[Physical Resistance increased]

His fingers brushed against the golden monocle lying in the blood. The artifact shimmered and contracted, shrinking until it fit perfectly in his palm - no longer sized for a massive sphinx’s eye.

The delicate frame bore flowing dwarven runes, intertwining like vines around the rim. Despite its age, the craftsmanship was unmistakable - definitely post-Sundering era work. Before men, elves and dwarves separated. A crack ran through the lens, likely from the battle.

The golden monocle gleamed in Adom’s palm. [Riddler’s Bane (S-Class)]

This monocle enhances magical perception, allowing the wearer to perceive the subtle patterns and structures within magical phenomena they study. The deeper the wearer’s knowledge of a particular magical system, the more intricate details the monocle reveals.

Effects:

Reveals the underlying structure of magical workingsHeightens perception of mana flow and its interactionsNote: The monocle does not grant knowledge - it only illuminates what the user already understands at a deeper level.

[Current Status: Active]

Adom slipped the monocle over his right eye, and the world... shifted. Not dramatically, but in countless subtle ways that made his breath catch. The air itself seemed alive with gossamer threads of mana - ambient magic he’d always had to strain to perceive now danced clearly in his vision. The cave walls thrummed with old enchantments, their patterns unfurling like ancient tapestries.

[Light], he cast experimentally.

His eyes widened. Through the monocle, he could see the exact way his mana coalesced, the precise moment it transformed into luminous energy. The spell’s structure was laid bare - not just the surface pattern he’d memorized, but the deeper flows and eddies that made it work. Like seeing the individual brushstrokes in a painting he’d only ever viewed from afar.

The residual magic from their battle still lingered in the air. He could trace the exact path his fireball had taken, see where it had interacted with the sphinx’s failing reality-bend. Even the dimensional bag’s fractured matrix was visible, its broken geometry still bleeding traces of power.

Fascinating. With this, he could-

”Ooh, shiny.” Bob wandered over, peering at the monocle. ”That’s some fancy eyewear ye got there. Interesting?”

”Very,” Adom replied before storing it in his inventory.

Feeling the magical exhaustion weighing heavily on him, Adom reached for one of the high-grade mana potions he’d purchased, now on the ground.

The crystalline liquid went down smoothly - none of that bitter aftertaste of cheaper potions. Instead, it tasted like honeyed mint tea with a hint of citrus. You could always tell the quality by how sweet it was.

[Mana regenerating...]

”You about done staring at that trinket?” Bob called, his dimensional bag steadily swallowing coin after golden coin. ”Not that I’m complaining about the haul, mind you, but you haven’t touched a single piece of this lovely gold.” He paused, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. ”Feeling ill?”

Adom smiled tiredly. ”Take it all, Bob. You earned it.”

”Now I know something’s wrong with- wait, what?” The leprechaun froze mid-grab. ”All of it? Seriously?”

”All yours.”

Bob’s grin threatened to split his face as he began shoveling gold faster. ”You’re either the most generous mage I’ve ever met or the most foolish. Either way, I’m not arguing!”

Adom turned toward the passage the sphinx had been guarding.

”How much deeper do you think this labyrinth goes?” he muttered, starting forward.

”Knowing our luck? Probably straight to hell itself,” Bob grumbled, jogging to catch up. ”And knowing your curiosity, we’re going to find out.”

The passage twisted and turned until finally opening into... something else entirely.

Adom’s steps slowed. The chamber was vast, its ceiling lost in shadows above. But it was what filled the space that made his blood run cold.

Golems. Hundreds of them. All standing motionless in various combat stances. Their metallic and stone bodies gleamed with runes.

And in the center...

A knight-golem knelt, both hands resting on the pommel of a great sword. Its armor was intricate, covered in runes that seemed to shift in the dim light. Unlike the others, this one radiated with mana.

”Bob,” Adom whispered. ”We need to leave. Now.”

They spun toward the entrance, only to find solid stone where the passage had been.

Ah, come on.

”Uh, lad?” Bob’s voice shook slightly. ”There’s writing appearing on the wall. In human script, looks like. What’s it say?”

Adom’s shoulders slumped as glowing letters materialized:

WELCOME TO THE THIRD TRIAL

THE TRIAL OF STRENGTH

The sound of grinding metal and stone filled the chamber. The knight-golem’s head slowly raised. Around them, the army of constructs began to move, their runes flickering to life.

”Oh, bloody hell,” Bob whispered. ”Who is doing this to us...”