Now that the grand election was over, the burden of choice had officially shifted to Ian. The four men gathered around him.
"So," Marcus was the first to speak, clapping his hands together while clearing his throat. "Which way? Personally, as a man who has successfully navigated complex schemes in the company, I feel a strong pull toward the right path."
"Oh, please," Bob scoffed, giving his cast-iron frying pan a loving wipe. "The right path smells like danger. I say we go left. Trust the chef's nose. My nose knows."
"If I may interject with actual logic," Arthur said, pushing his glasses up by the bridge.
"Factoring in the non-existent wind speed and the humidity, my calculations suggest that both paths are statistically identical. So instead of wasting time, we should just guess."
"The left path looks friendlier!" Toby chimed in, happily waving his wooden staff like a bat.
Ian stood in silence. His team was actively trying to convince him while simultaneously refusing to take even an ounce of liability for the choice.
He looked down both paths. They were truly identical. It was like choosing between two identical brands of generic toothpaste, except this toothpaste might drown him.
Ian let out a sigh. He reached into his pocket with his good hand and pulled out a small black box.
"What's that?" Marcus asked, leaning in.
"My class weapon," Ian replied, popping the seal with his thumb. He smoothly slid out the [Gambler's Standard Deck].
"Ooh, are we playing cards? I love cards, but is now really the right time?" Toby reached out, his fingers wiggling as he tried to touch the card-based weapon.
He wanted to see what a card based class weapon actually felt like.
Ian took a quick step back, dodging the crazy healer.
"No. We aren't playing cards. Since we are just blindly guessing a path, the decision will be left purely to chance. We'll let luck take the wheel."
He held the deck up. "I'm going to draw one card at random. If it's an odd number, we take the right path. If it's an even number, we take the left."
The four men stared at him in utter disbelief.
Then again, they couldn't really complain. Just as Ian had pointed out, it was a literal shot in the dark. They might as well bite the bullet and go with the flow. Besides, they couldn't stand here arguing for eternity.
They didn't have much food besides one item each that they had received from the vending machine. All of them were saving those things for desperate times.
They definitely had to progress through the maze in hopes of finding a place where they could get something to eat, possibly the exit.
Acknowledging their reluctant agreement, Ian closed his eyes, and pulled a card from the middle. He flipped it outward for the group to see.
It was the Five of Hearts.
"Five is odd," Ian declared, slipping the rest of the deck into his pocket. "We're going right."
He held the Five of Hearts, preparing to slip it back into the deck. As his fingers brushed the edge of the box, he completely missed the subtle phenomenon occurring right beneath his thumb.
For a fraction of a second, the red ink of the card flashed with a weak blue light. Oblivious to the strange effect, Ian tucked the card away.
"Stay alert," Marcus said. He hoisted his sword, gripping it exactly like a baseball bat, and bravely led the charge down the right path.
As the only warrior on the team, Marcus took the lead. He might be internally panicking, and he might not be the brightest in the team, but he at least didn't complain and shouldered his tanking responsibilities.
Second in the formation was Bob the Chef. He wasn't a warrior, but a heavy frying pan could theoretically be used as a weapon, right? Ian was third, Arthur fourth, and finally, Toby the healer skipped along in the rear.
Toby wasn't placed in the back because it was the safest spot for their crucial support player. He was placed in the back because Marcus had aggressively demanded that he would only lead if 'that crazy healer' was kept as far away from him as physically possible.
For the first ten minutes, nothing happened. Then, Arthur's foot found a slightly raised stone.
Click.
"Ah," Arthur looked down. "Mathematically speaking, it looks like we are now... screwed."
Swiss~
A dozen stone arrows shot out from hidden slots in the walls. Ian didn't even have the luxury of panicking. He tried to dodge the first arrow, immediately slipped on his own feet, and violently fell on to his back.
The arrows zipped harmlessly over his chest. One arrow perfectly parted Marcus's hair, providing a free trim.
Three more were deflected off Bob's pan, which the chef was swinging blindly around his head like he was swatting at aggressive bees.
Meanwhile, Marcus finally revealed his skills. He was truly like a fighter as he swung his sword, intending to cut the arrows in half like he had seen in the movies.
And that's what he did. His aim was so perfect that many arrows were split in half, letting him show off his skills. Everyone looked at him in disbelief, clapping like seals.
Of course, all that only happened in his imagination. In reality, his sword missed almost all the arrows.
He somehow even managed to miss the arrows that would have hit his blade if he had just stood completely still.
Woosh~
One arrow stabbed in his left thigh, another grazed past his upper shoulder, and one flew right between his legs. A little above and he might have lost something more than he bargained for.
Meanwhile, one arrow neatly pinned Toby's baggy sleeve to the wall.
Marcus changed his plans after suffering, trying to use Ian's idea. He immediately dropped to the floor in a stylish move, almost breaking his back.
Of course, he did that a full three seconds after all the arrows had already passed. There were no more arrows coming, so his stylish drop only looked like wasted effort.
He really wanted to cry at this point. Wasn't he a warrior? Wasn't he supposed to be good with a sword? Then why the heck did he look like the only person who had suffered here? Even a freaking chef did better than him?!
He couldn't even blame that on him leading since the arrows had come from the side and not from the front.
His face turned completely red. It was unclear if it was because of residual poison, because his thigh was stabbed by an arrow, or simply because he was too embarrassed to show his face around.
He really wanted to cry but no tears came out of his eyes.