I directed my gaze toward the dark passageway stretching before me like the menacing jaws of an ancient beast. But as I well knew, every beast, no matter how terrifying, has a weak point. This one would be no exception.
—There's a specific moment for each arrow's release —I murmured to myself.
I needed to pinpoint that exact moment. The arrow traps weren't simple mechanisms: first, sensors detected movement; then, complex gears turned, calculating the direction; finally, the arrows were fired from cannons hidden in the shadows.
The prevailing darkness made it impossible to spot the arrows with the naked eye, but before the shot, the gears activated, producing an almost imperceptible sound. If I could catch that faint noise, I could identify both the location and direction of the arrows before they were launched. It was my only viable option.
The challenge was considerable: the gears took barely two or three seconds to complete their turn before firing, and their sound was practically inaudible to ordinary ears. In that brief moment, I had to locate the source of that tiny mechanical noise. It might sound simple in theory, but executing it required exceptional senses and reflexes.
I closed my eyes and focused all my attention on the surrounding sounds. Reaching that state of concentration wasn't particularly difficult for me; after all, I was accustomed to such mental exercises. I tried to distinguish each individual sound floating in the apparent silence, though it was extremely complex to separate the ones I needed from the dozen subtle ambient noises.
I perceived tiny drops of water falling rhythmically from some point on the ceiling. The faint metallic clinking of arrows reloading in the traps echoed softly in the distance. Additionally, I picked up numerous indeterminate sounds along the endless passageway. Despite that subtle cacophony, I strove to identify the specific sounds I was looking for, one by one, with infinite patience.
What felt like an eternity passed until finally…
There it was! An unmistakable screech of rusted metal: a gear in motion. I opened my eyes instantly and threw one of my daggers toward the exact source of the sound.
¡Crack!
The dagger embedded itself deeply into the ceiling, and moments later, the shattered remains of a mechanism fell along with several steel arrows that clinked against the floor.
—¡I've got it! —I exclaimed with restrained satisfaction—. I can find them.
Though focusing solely on hearing had obvious disadvantages, the crucial thing was that I had discovered a way to navigate the deadly passageway.
I forced myself to stand, deliberately ignoring the protests of my battered body. I could barely move my left arm and limped noticeably; continuing in such conditions bordered on insanity, but I had no alternatives. Despite my initial slowness, I managed to reach the next trap.
¡Swish!
New arrows sliced through the air toward me.
"Right shoulder!" I thought instantly upon hearing the familiar sound of the gear activating. I twisted my body to the side, mentally calculating the exact trajectory the projectile would take.
The arrow that nearly hit my shoulder embedded itself into the wall with a dry, definitive sound. I clenched my fists with renewed determination; my method was working.
Now fully confident in my strategy, I wasted no more time and advanced toward the next section of the corridor.
¡Swish! ¡Swish! ¡Swish! ¡Swish!
"Four," I counted mentally while identifying their trajectories.
The arrows aimed in descending order: temple, heart, abdomen, and knee. A lethal pattern designed to ensure the intruder's death. I dodged the first by tilting my head and stepping forward. The arrow aimed at my thigh grazed my leg before crashing into the ground. Simultaneously, I used the flat of my dagger to deflect the one heading relentlessly toward my abdomen.
¡Clang!
My dagger vibrated with a clean metallic sound. The impact sent waves of pain through my hand, but the adrenaline flooding my veins quickly dulled them.
In the real world, improving skills required years of constant training and unwavering discipline. But this place was different, unique in its conception.
Here, extraordinary achievements were possible with the right effort, thanks to the interface system that allowed accelerated growth for chosen users. It was an advantage I couldn't afford to waste.
Though I could now detect the arrows with precision, my reflexes were still too slow for the challenge. My dagger moved half a second too late after perceiving the danger. It was useless to detect them if I couldn't react in time to neutralize them.
I split my consciousness, which had until then been focused solely on hearing, to also include absolute control over my right hand. I took another determined step forward.
¡Swish!
An arrow headed straight for my forehead, aiming to pierce my skull. I deflected it with a perfectly calculated movement, neither too fast nor too slow.
My task was to maintain my attention split between my hearing and my right arm, something extraordinarily complex when trying to control both senses simultaneously with pinpoint precision.
My eyes scanned the darkness as I repeated to myself, like a mantra: "Little by little, but never stopping."
I resumed my advance with renewed caution.
¡Swish! ¡Swish! ¡Swish!
Each step triggered a deadly rain of steel arrows. I dodged them with minimal movements or deflected them with my daggers when evading was too risky.
I gradually perfected my blocking technique: deflecting the arrows with the flat of the dagger to preserve its edge, ducking my head to avoid the higher ones, twisting my body with pinpoint precision, or advancing strategically to intercept them at the exact moment.
There was a moment when I failed miserably, and an arrow struck my back, piercing the flesh. Without making a sound, I extracted it with cold indifference, as if my body were nothing more than an imperfect tool.
After stopping the bleeding with improvised methods, I pressed on with uneven steps that betrayed my limp. I walked in absolute silence, like a machine programmed for a single purpose: survival.
After advancing for what felt like hours, I made a drastic decision. It was time to run. It was now or never.
I ran, unleashing all the strength my battered muscles could muster. I couldn't afford to slow down. Not at that crucial moment when every second counted.
A glint caught my peripheral vision: the gleaming tip of an arrow rapidly approaching from the front, aiming for my chest. My body reacted on pure instinct as I slid across the dusty floor.
More arrows began to rain down at low height, but I had already dismissed the need to worry about projectiles coming from behind or the sides. My current speed made those angles of attack significantly less effective.
However, the situation demanded maintaining momentum at all costs. Slowing down wasn't a viable option, so I was forced to execute an extremely risky maneuver: rolling without apparent control to dodge the deadly metallic rain.
The chilling sound of arrows embedding into the ground mere centimeters from my body accompanied me like a sinister melody, reminding me how thin the line between life and death was. With a precise movement born of desperation, I deflected several arrows to my left using my dagger while continuing to roll.
A sharp pain shot through my wrist, likely a sprain caused by the violent evasive maneuver. But the pain was irrelevant at that critical moment. I considered it a minor nuisance, unworthy of attention, and pressed forward relentlessly. This trap wasn't a place where I could afford a moment of hesitation.