Artificial dungeon [3]

In the middle of my existential struggle with the wall, a thought crossed my mind: to face a demon today, wow, something to put on the resume, right? Sure, if it weren't for him walking around calmly in the body of a girl, I could even grab some popcorn.

I felt the laziness settling in like a lazy cat on the couch of my motivation. What if I just got out of this life of a hero in training and left the problems to others? A stress-free life, with zero chance of my corpse ending up buried under the ground. Sounds like permanent vacation.

But that's the thing, you can't get out. There's something addictive about this duel of glances with the abyss. Think of it as a strength test, but instead of lifting weights, I lift moral dilemmas. And today? Well, maybe I'll find out that my special ability is basically being a therapist for demons, or maybe a motivational coach for tortured souls.

Mercy? Oh, yes, that old friend. To think that under all these muscles and eagle eyes, I have a heart that doesn't enjoy seeing true evil suffering. It's kind of like rooting for the losing team just because you like underdogs.

Deep down, little demon or not, I have nothing against them. I face them all, from the angel to the bully on the corner, with the same face of 'meh'. Preferences? Sure, there are those that I wouldn't mind having a coffee and discussing the clichés of life, but in the end, they are all just different flavors of the ice cream of chaos. And me? Well, I'm just here trying not to fall for the flavor of the month.

There I am, hostage of my own fruitless daydreams, when I am invaded by that classic sensation of "Oops, it looks like we have company". Footsteps. Three sets of them, to be exact. And me? Well, I can only articulate the most eloquent of words: "Shit…", soaked in pure disappointment.

Oh, the drama of being a craftsman of words and yet feeling like a mere amateur. How could I weave such a simplistic narrative? Lamentations aside, the trio approaches.

Like shadows that take shape, Sam, Diana and Ellie appeared. Ah, the visual encounter! And there is Sam, noticing that I am, for some obscure reason, practically dating the rocky surface. Is it a new trend? Definitely not.

And their premature return… Like an inconvenient interruption during the climax of a nightmare. Sam's crimson eyes studying me, as if feeling the drafts of the tragedy that I, Author disguised as an extra, have already traced for his future.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Ah, Sam, the curiosity in person, as cliché as a hero with a moral dilemma.

 "I'm just applying an electrocardiogram to this stone crush here. Hard beats to find, you know how it is," I reply, because if I'm going to sink, let it be with style and a pinch of sarcasm.

Sam's gaze blended with the expression of someone who had just seen a madman dating a stone. Diana and Ellie, not lagging behind, clearly debated internally whether to offer psychiatric help or simply to stay away from the lunatic.

Indeed, I'm here evaluating who wins on the IQ scale of a turnip - these perplexed faces or the questions they ask.

With a sigh worthy of someone who will have to explain a joke, I break the ice: "Looking for a secret passage. You never played video games or what?" Because sometimes, the truth is the biggest joke of all.

Ah, the hilarious comedy of the obvious. "Ahh… Makes sense," they say, as if I had just revealed a secret of the universe instead of pointing to something that should have been the first thing to be checked by adventurers on duty.

My patience, which is not great, adopted the policy of shrinking where it should grow, but yes, I restrain myself. I am the creator, I cannot simply declare revolt against my own inventions.

"Hey, guys, don't worry, just go that way and you'll have enough distraction," I say, waving in the direction that should take this trio away. The plan was simple: find the secret passage before their arrival worthy of a parade, but look, life is a box of surprises and not all cookies come with chocolate.

Then came that statement, "Dean Carleone, right?" Sam inquired, dodging my subtle suggestion as if dodging a rehearsed blow.

Then he surprises me. And yes, I admit, the boy has the kind of beauty that is unfair to the rest of humanity. Not to mention Diana and Ellie, companions who were to the aesthetic norm as the stars are to the night sky - simply a level above.

Then, to my surprise - and secret irritation - the protagonist did what he does best: solved the problem with ease. His touch on the wall turned it into an entrance, as if by magic. "You need to channel your mana into your hands, otherwise you won't activate the secret passage." He advised me, minimizing my previous failure.

And there we are, in front of a newly opened passage, courtesy of our dear protagonist and his ability to do what I, in all my supposed wisdom, failed to accomplish. Ah, the ironies of fiction…

With his score, I had to admit, internally, that maybe the protagonists were not only good at finding secret passages. Maybe they were also good at detecting when someone needed a touch of magic - or at least a push in the right direction.

With the passage revealed, savoring my momentary triumph thanks to Sam's magic touch, my gratitude is tinged with irony. "Thank you, you can go back now," I say with a smile that barely disguises my haste to see the troupe on their way to their own adventure.

Diana unveiled her intentions with the innocence of a bunny, suggesting that now, in a delirium of inclusion, I should join them as if we were a merry band of musketeers. "Hey, we helped you open the secret passage, I believe we can go together and maybe even work together. You're alone, aren't you?" she said.

I'm as lonely as a hermit on days of fallen internet, but of course, gathering a group was never part of my quintessence. "Yes, but I decline, working in a group is not for me." I reject Diana's suggestion, aspiring for solitude, even if the company offered was a poster illustrated of perfect proportions.

Sam seemed determined not to let that little flame of camaraderie go out, referring to my recent collaboration with another member of our story. "Really? But it seems that you worked well with Chloe. If it weren't for you creating that breach, I believe she wouldn't have been able to defeat that monster." He threw the bait, hoping I would bite the hook of contradiction.

With a sigh that looked more like the prelude of a tornado and scratching my head in a typical gesture of discontent, I realized the obvious: I wasn't going to get rid of Sam as easily as he frees his friends from the claws of danger. But hey, maybe this is the perfect curveball for a beneficial plot twist.

What if I just let Sam, Diane and Ellie wear themselves out dancing with the demon, while I, in my insatiable thirst for protagonism, went there and nailed my autograph on the dungeon boss to snatch the laurels - and the reward? Oh, what a dilemma! Follow the leader? Nah, time to take the road less traveled.