The boss door groaned open, shadows spilling out across the stone.

  The chamber beyond stretched wider than any they’d seen yet. A raised platform dominated the center, tiled in huge squares of bright colors — red, blue, green, yellow, purple — like a child’s toy dumped into a nightmare.

  In the middle of the rainbow floor sat a pedestal, faint light shimmering from whatever rested on top.

  Around the edge of the room ran a narrow stone pathway, circling the gaudy platform. And at the far end, another door glowed faintly, its frame humming with power.

  The crystal pulsed smugly:

  Boss Encounter Initiated. Puzzle Variant. Attempt: 5.

  The three froze.

  “…That’s it?” Harlada asked. “No monster? Just… tiles?”

  Leo adjusted his glasses. “Clearly a color-coded hazard trial. Only the correct sequence of tiles will permit safe passage. The others will… kill us.”

  Bert squinted. “So… floor is lava?”

  “Floor is murder,” Harlada muttered.

  The crystal pulsed again:

  Rule: Only step on the correct color. Incorrect choice = instant death.

  Bert puffed up his chest. “Pfft. Easy. Just pick red. Red is always good.”

  He stomped a boot onto the nearest red square.

  Nothing happened.

  “See?” he grinned.

  Then the entire tile collapsed into darkness.

  Bert plummeted with a strangled yelp, vanishing below.

  The crystal pulsed cheerfully:

  Attempt 5 Pending.

  ***

  Harlada narrowed her eyes at the pedestal. Its glow shimmered, slowly shifting through colors. Red. Blue. Yellow. Green. Purple.

  She gasped. “It’s not random. It’s showing the path.”

  Leo adjusted his glasses. “Of course. The pedestal acts as the key. Step only on the color it displays. A logical progression.”

  “Exactly.” Harlada clenched her fists. “Watch and learn.”

  The pedestal glowed blue. She stepped carefully onto a blue tile. Nothing happened.

  Then yellow. She moved again. Perfectly safe.

  One by one, she traced the sequence. Purple. Red. Yellow. Blue. Always matching the pedestal’s shift. The tiles hummed faintly under her boots but held steady.

  “See?” she called back to Leo. “This isn’t hard if you actually think.”

  She advanced, step by step, until only one tile remained between her and the pedestal.

  It glowed bright green.

  She froze. The tiles around her were red, purple, and blue. Not a single green in reach.

  “…Wait,” she whispered.

  Leo’s notebook trembled in his hands. “Statistically improbable. The system is mocking us.”

  Harlada’s eyes darted across the rainbow floor. The pedestal continued to blaze green, waiting.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  And there was nowhere left to go.

  Harlada’s jaw clenched. “Fine. No green? Then we don’t play by the rules.”

  She took a deep breath, sparks dancing across her robe. Her boots lifted from the tile, robes fluttering as she rose into the air.

  “Ha!” she shouted down at Leo. “Levitate. Problem solved.”

  For a glorious second, she drifted gracefully across the gap, eyes locked on the glowing pedestal. The green light gleamed brighter, as if acknowledging her brilliance.

  Then the crystal pulsed smugly:

  Levitation does not work like that.

  The magic flickered. Her boots snapped downward like magnets.

  She plummeted.

  ***

  Now only Leo stood at the edge of the rainbow floor. His notebook trembled in his hands.

  The pedestal pulsed again, glowing an insistent green.

  He adjusted his cracked glasses. “Correction: statistically solvable. Observation: probability remains nonzero.”

  He stepped carefully onto the first tile. Safe. Another. Still safe. His quill scratched feverishly, calculations flowing across the page. Blue. Red. Yellow. Purple. Each one matched the pedestal exactly — or so he believed.

  “See?” he muttered to himself, voice echoing thinly. “Simple pattern recognition. Logic conquers all.”

  The pedestal flared green again.

  Leo squinted. “…Green?”

  He looked down at the floor.

  Five tiles stretched around him: dull gray, dark gray, slightly less dark gray, gray with a tint of blue maybe, and… another gray.

  His quill shook. “Ah. A minor complication. Statistically… insignificant.”

  The crystal pulsed, its text jagged with delight:

  New Debuff Detected: Protanopia. Success Probability: Zero.

  Leo froze. Alone, surrounded by a rainbow he couldn’t see.

  “…Ah,” he whispered. “That explains… everything.”

  The pedestal kept blazing green, mocking him.

  Leo stared at the glowing pedestal, sweat dripping down his temples.

  “Think… think… statistically improvise…” he muttered. His quill tapped against the page, smearing ink. Then his eyes widened. “Of course. Boar Rush. The ability granted by the boars. Forward momentum… three tiles.”

  He inhaled sharply. “If I can narrow the distance… then the rest can be brute-forced.”

  Leo began stepping again, quill trembling. One gray tile. Safe. Another gray tile. Safe. Another… still safe.

  By sheer luck, he reached a point where only three tiles separated him from the pedestal.

  “This is it,” he whispered. He braced himself, eyes gleaming. “Three tiles. Maximum velocity. Probability… nonzero.”

  He lowered his head, charged, and activated Boar Rush.

  For a glorious moment, his body blurred forward, hurtling across the rainbow floor.

  Then he overshot.

  The pedestal whizzed past beneath him. His scream echoed as he sailed right over it — and into the abyss beyond.

  The crystal pulsed, vibrating with smug laughter:

  Attempt 6 Pending.

  ***

  They respawned in a shallow gravel pit, dungeon dust drifting down from above.

  Bert cracked his knuckles, grabbed the others, and tossed them out of the pit like sacks of turnips. Then he hauled himself up after them.

  Without a word, they trudged back toward the rainbow floor.

  The pedestal still gleamed smugly in the center, colors shifting.

  They stood again at the edge of the rainbow floor, the pedestal pulsing smugly at its center.

  Leo adjusted his glasses, notebook shaking in his hands. “The answer is obvious. Bert can throw Harlada directly to the pedestal. Her mass is low, his strength is absurd. Probability of success: eighty percent.”

  “Excuse me?” Harlada snapped.

  But Bert was already scooping her up.

  “Wait—” she started.

  He hurled her like a javelin.

  She screamed all the way across. For one breathless moment it looked like disaster—then she smacked down perfectly onto the pedestal, sparks sputtering around her.

  The crystal pulsed, stunned:

  …Success?

  The rainbow tiles shimmered once, then flickered out. When the light cleared, the floor was nothing but dull stone. No colors, no traps, no puzzle.

  The pedestal vanished into mist.

  At the far end, a door groaned open with a long hiss.

  Bert pumped his fists. “YES! Pure skill!”

  Harlada staggered to her feet, glaring. “Pure trauma!”

  Leo scribbled furiously. “Statistically improbable. Yet effective.”

  The crystal pulsed again, sulky this time:

  Reward Withheld. Progression Granted.

  The adventurers groaned.

  “Figures,” Harlada muttered. “We win, and the dungeon still cheats us.”

  Together, they stepped toward the newly opened door.