My first reaction is to ask: What would Sun Tzu do? But the Art of War has already burnt me one too many times before. I need whatever the opposite of a Chinese general is to survive. Think, Gomez, who would be the antithesis of Sun Tzu? Something soft, cuddly, safe... Winnie the Pooh?

No, that won't work. They're both Taoist and Chinese, and I don't see any pot of honey around. Maybe Kierkegaard? He's a cowardly twink who fumbled his way into relevancy. No, I'm not a Danish incel, so it won't work. I need something dumb, and blank. Head empty, just survival...

I know! Dumb as a rock, need for survival as an instinct, always wins with the power of friendship in the end. There is only one being that fits the bill: beloved Nintendo mascot, Kirby.

Think about it. One is a hardened warrior who uses stratagems hitherto unknown to outsmart their opponents in battles of wits with countless lives on the line. The other is Sun Tsu. Kirby only eats, sleeps, and that's about it, and yet, by the power of bullshit and friends, he waddles his way into killing gods by mere accident. And do you think he has a strategy in mind when he does that? Hell no. He just moves forwards and does it. The universe will provide the rest.

And me, being a protagonist like Kirby, will blindly follow on his path to victory. So today I must ask: What would Kirby do?

Oddly enough, the first thing he always does in his games is look upward. Lots of bad stuff that happens in Dreamland comes from the sky. Of course, Master Kirby would always be vigilant of threats like that. Surely, his instincts know no bounds.

I look up to see what is basically a magic JumboTron hovering over the maze with each of our pictures at the bottom, with about 10 slots with accompanying photos on top of it. A score system, perhaps? Next to it is a countdown clock with fifteen minutes remaining, and counting down. Maybe only the top 10 fighters will go on to the next round. Or, judging how ass-backward this thing is, it only displays the bottom 10 that will be eliminated every fifteen minutes. Dammit, I'm running blind here.

No, no. Don't worry. Remember: head empty, no thoughts, only poyo. Master Kirby never knows what's happening either. I just have to survive, not win.

Just as I say this, the ugly mug of Vampyr Von Woof shoots to the top of the top ten, with a number 3 next to him. The Half-bull-half-alligator thing goes to the second spot with a number 1 next to his photo.

Okay, this is a top ten. No way those two are losing. If that's the case, better for me. That might as well be a list of people I don't wanna face.

Anyways, now that I looked up, what would Kirby do? And that's an easy thing to do: move forwards! Occasionally jumping while inhaling air to get some air time. Thank you, Master Kirby. After all, the best way to leave a maze is to move. And that, I do.

The maze is wide enough to fit even the biggest of beasts, but just barely. A mediocre dance crew could breakdance here semi-comfortably. I walk, and walk, and skip a little while flapping my arms, and walk a little bit farther. Just a smidge. I get to a crossroads, and, of course, I pick right. Master Kirby always goes right, because it's the right place to go!

You know, for having two hundred or so beings in this labyrinth, it sure looks empty. It's been around — let's look a the clock here — five minutes! Five minutes without seeing a soul. I call that a win. Master Kirby would be proud, if he could talk. I wonder if there's a warp star around here that can take me to the next stage.

The rankings change yet again. The Vamwolf is at number one with a respectable score of 10. The Halfbeast trails him by 6. Next is a Snake-like monster with humans for hair — which I'll call reverse-medusa — with 4. Okayden makes an appearance next with one, followed by a few more with one rounding the bottom. It's slow going, but I think that's good, no? Everyone here is part of the forest. To defeat a fellow neighbor is not an easy thing to do. Unless it's that bitch Brenda that keeps reporting your grass to the HOA for being an inch taller than regulation and yelling about how "It's devaluating the price of her house" by being in close proximity to what she calls a "drug den," just because I'm Hispanic. That racist bitch. I would easily cut down Brenda.

Okay, new plan. I'll keep going forwards and to the right and wait for the time to run out. I'll surely be disqualified and hopefully, Hayden will understand. Speaking of Hayden, his name — along that loathsome ginger's — just appeared on the board with two each. They must've teamed up or something. Good for them, I guess. It will make me less guilty of bailing out.

Two more minutes pass, two more minutes of me flapping my arms while holding my breath. This was the wisest choice. Why was I thinking Sun Tzu was the pinnacle of strategy?! He would've made me ambush some minotaur or some stupid shit like this. Hell naw. Kirby is where it's at! All pink and stuff, no worries, nothing. Another intersection? Take a right, please! I just love it here.

But bliss is not forever. As soon as I take a right, I'm face to face-to-face-to-face-to-face-to-face-to-face with the reverse medusa, alongside five other snake-beings. They are wearing venom-purple.

Oh, poyo.

The reverse medusa slithers forwards, waving a mean-looking halberd around. The men on its head start moving around like one of those wacky waving inflatable tube men you see in every sleazy car dealership where the fuel to even leave the place is marked as a luxury add-on. "Finally, s-s-s-s-some fresh-sh-sh-sh meat!" it says.

Is it dragging the S's because he's a snake, or because he has a lisp? Don't know, don't care. What I care about is that I'm in danger.

I take a glimpse at the JumboTron and holy mojitos, this thing has 12 points in third place! I don't even have time to check the other spots when my bad boy instincts tell me to dodge. Of course, I dodge to the right, as Kirby would, just before the tip of a halberd flies through where my face was just a few seconds ago.

Thank Saint Bosco for my plot armor!

The reverse medusa slithers sideways to cut the path I was just gonna use to run away like a bitch, but doesn't move further. It just stays there, looking at me, snakely, with the men on its head being extra wacky and inflatable. Is it studying me? Or is it just waiting for me to make the first move, like a fun, if awkward Tinder date on the back of your dad's Subaru?

Okay, it's time for another "What would Kirby do?" And this one is easy as well: suck 'em and absorb their power to use against them, of course.

Sadly, my sucking power is lacking, which I hope Hayden helps with in the near future. But I can try to disarm it and take that halberd for myself. Yeah, that's what I'll do. I have plot armor, after all. I'm immortal, until the plot deems it so. I'm the protagonist, biach!

First, I'll bait it by feinting going left, when I'm actually going right. Then, when it thrusts the halberd at me, I'll dodge at the last second and pull it away from its hands. Flawless plan, Ayden. Just like Kirby would do.

I look at the reverse-medusa straight in the eyes, summon every ounce of my strength to my legs, and...I immediately go down to my knees. That's not supposed to happen. I clearly told my legs to go left, not down. Legs can't even go down. What gives?

I try to stand up, but it feels like my legs are made of Jell-o. And my arms are also made of Jell-o. Everything in my existence feels like I'm made of Jello-o, and the lime kind. The worst type of Jell-o. That's just citric acid and bone juice. Which, incidentally, is what my bones feel like: juicy. You don't want that in any case.

The reverse medusa sizzles, with their other snake companions doing the same. I think that's how they laugh.

"You, s-s-s-s-stupid human," says the reverse medusa, twirling its spear like a baton. "You jus-s-s-s-t fell into my ingenious-s-s-s-s trap. You s-s-s-s-s-see, unlike a medus-s-s-s-a, who makes-s-s-s-s-s-s you s-s-s-s-"

"Okay, I know you're a snake and your deal is to drag your S's, but can you wrap it up? All this stretching the words and the like is giving me anxiety. Is like when someone is holding their breath and it makes me hold my breath because my brain is run by goblins and, well, you know."

One of the snake companions steps forwards and points their tail at me in an accusatorial way. "Hey, buddy. Fuck you. My main man Jerry here doesn't do that because he's part snake. He only has a lisp. What you're doing is just plain bullying. Not cool."

"Oh, crap," I say. "I'm very, very sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"It's-s-s-s- okay," says Jerry the reverse medusa. "I get it. It's-s-s-s-s part of the s-s-s-s-s-stereotype. It's-s-s-s jus-s-s-s-s-st, you know, there's-s-s-s a lot of prejudice going on."

"No, no, I get it," I say, still as soft as a teenager in a Japanese public bathroom. "What I did was bigoted and insensible. Please, forgive me. You were saying?"

"No, no, it's-s-s-s okay. The moment has-s-s-s-s pass-s-s-s-s-s-sed."

"Please, I insist. I am very curious as to why I'm soft."

"Well, if you ins-s-s-s-s-sis-s-s-s-t. A-s-s-s-s I was-s-s-s-s s-s-s-saying, unlike a medus-s-s-s-sa, who makes-s-s-s-s-s-s you hard as-s-s-s-s- a rock, an A-s-s-s-s-udem, or revers-s-s-s-se medus-s-s-sa, makes-s-s-s you s-s-s-s-soft and limp."

All that for something that's super obvious. But well, I don't wanna be rude, or get canceled on Twitter. "I see. Now what? I'm at your mercy."

Now what is an excellent question. Being soft is not something Master Kirby would have a problem with. He's notoriously soft and squishy. I, on the other hand, am not a soft boy. I'm a very hard boy by nature. But I'm also a protagonist, just like Master Kirby, and protagonists don't die. I'm bound to find a way out. I peek up to see there are five minutes left. That's it! I can run out the clock if I keep him talking. How could I miss the biggest power Master Kirby has in its arsenal? The power of friendship!

Yes, with the power of friendship, I can get out of this. Master Kirby befriends his allies all the time. If I can befriend this Reverse medusa, I can get out of this jelly jam.

"Now," says the reverse medusa, "you s-s-s-s-s-s-s-shall die."

Ah, yes. The death thing. Enemies before being friends always say that, don't they? Typical Kirby Friend thing. After all, there is but a thin line between hate and love. In fact, I would dare say that the opposite of love is not hate, but indifference, and... is that my ass?

Why am I looking at my own ass? Damn, I've never seen it from this low angle. I have a bubble but. My money does jiggle-jiggle. You can bounce a pog on my cake. A dump truck, I have. Another thing I have is abdominal pain. Like, huge pain. Also, can't feel my legs for some reason.

Weird, I'm getting cold. And wet. And my vision is blurry. My legs fall like a foot away from my head, but upside down. Silly legs, you're supposed to go under me, not over me.

Right?

I feel like falling asleep now. Someone should tuck me in a blanket. I'm hella cold.

Wait a minute. My legs are not attached to me anymore. I'm getting cold. I feel like two feet shorter, but figuratively and literally.

As the reverse medusa eats my legs like an anaconda, a realization dawns on me.

The bitch just cut me in half.

I thought we were going to be friends!

But, I can't die. I have plot armor! I call bullshit. Nu-uh. This can't end here.

And it doesn't.

I feel whole again, but wetter than ever. Moist, even. But not from a pool of blood, but a pool of water. The dank night sky has been switched with a clear morning sky. In front of me is a throne and—God, dammit!

"Welcome, son of-"

"Yeah, yeah, spare me the theatrics," I say to the bored goddess upon a crystal throne. "Can't a man die in peace?"

Farfallah looks extra smug in that deadpan way of hers, twirlin' a lock of hair on her index finger. "I pray you remember that your life is no longer yours to discard, at least until our contract is concluded. Which reminds me."

The watery floor beneath us changes to the moment when I found the LB before going through the white hole. "You won the bet, and yet you refused to take back what is mine. Respond."

"I needed something from him, and we made it a two-out-of-three deal," I say. Damn, my ribs are itching. "I get what I want, he gets another chance, and we make this whole deal a bit more dramatic. Don't worry. You'll get your mcguffin."

Farfallah's eyes narrow as the smug look on her face disappears. "Very well, son of Adam. I shall accept your line of thinking... for now. If I find out you're taking me for a fool, you will be sorry."

"Well, I'm already dead. Not much to be sorry now," I say.

"Oh, when I'm done with you, you will beg me to kill you," says Farfallah. "For now, you're still a useful pawn, so I, the great Farfallah, shall revive you once again. Fight for your life, get my relic, don't screw this up."

"Ah, another round in the personal hell I call existence. I'm truly grateful."

Farfallah narrows her eyes at my apparent sarcasm and waves her hands. The familiar darkness envelops me as I'm yanked away to the world of the living. But now that I think this through... how am I supposed to win?

"Hey, Farfallah!" I yell to the last specter of light from the darkness, "how can I win against an opponent that makes me soft when I look at him?"

The darkness envelops even the shadows themselves, but not before a voice penetrates it all. A smug voice. "I dunno, close your eyes?"

So much for the wisdom of gods.

I find myself cornered once again. I look up to the JumboTron and the clock is at seven minutes. Great, two minutes before I last died. The first thing I do is close my eyes. Master Kirby does close his eyes when in peril, after all.

"Uh, what are you doing?" says the reverse medusa.

"Nothing, just resting my peepers, is all," I tell him.

Great. I don't feel flaccid anymore. That's a relief. But now I can't see shit. Damn, I hate not having my glasses anymore. It would be a perfect shield from this. Still, Master Kirby doesn't use glasses. He's too cool for this. But the plan stays the same: faint, dodge, and grab. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

But without being able to see, it's hardy, difficulty, lemony fuckity. I try to faint, but I miss my timing. The searing pain of being shish-kebab'ed is not one I can forget.

My ass still looks straight-fire, tho.

"Welcome, son of-"

"Close your eyes, you say. It will be fine, you say."

"I never said you would be fine," says Farfallah, now with a shit-eating grin that didn't translate to her eyes.

"Any other great idea on how to avoid going soft?" I ask.

Farfallah waves her hand, materializing a small blue pill in front of me.

Viagra.

"Ha-ha, very funny joke," I say, slapping it away. "You're the goddess of clowns or something?"

"What do you want for me, foolish son of Adam?" she says, now exasperated, massaging her right temple.

"I need something to shield my eyes. And before you pull a funny on me, something that allows me to see as well."

The goddess clicks her tongue and waves her hand again. A garish oversized knockoff Gucci sunglasses — sorry, "Cuggi" sunglasses — with rhinestones embedded on the frame materialize in front of me. I feel that it could snap if handled with nothing but the utmost care. I can even see the cast marks on the edges. Gross.

"Thanks, I guess."

The goddess waves her hands again, and the darkness whisks me back to two minutes before I die.

The first thing I do is put on my glasses, much to the chagrin of the reverse medusa.

"What are thos-s-s-s-s-se?!" it asks.

I push the glasses a little further in and give him my signature bad boy smirk. "They're Cuggi."

I immediately fait to the left, while dodging to the right at the last minute, and bingo! The halberd comes down where I was and gets stuck in the ground. I jump on it and try to pry it away from both the ground and the reverse medusa.

The operative word here being "try."

Reverse medusas, as it turns out, are jacked as shit. He hoists the halberd — and me, who is still holding onto it — into the air and slams me against the vines. Against a thorn sticking out of the vine, to be precise. I wonder, how many different ways can I be penetrated today?

"Welco-"

"Yeah, turns out, I'm not as strong as some yoked snake, so I'll need a weapon."

The goddess looks both taken aback and uncomfortable, squirming on her throne. "A weapon?"

"Yes, like a sword, or a spear, or something. I'll even take a pizza cutter."

"Well, about that..." says the goddess, twirling her thumbs while not looking at me in the eyes. "In terms of weapons, I have no weapons."

"...say what now?"

"The use of weapons has been outlawed in my reality. We resolve issues by playing games. That's how the interloper manages to steal my relic."

It looks like he won it, more than he stole it. "But, wait. The dick has a magic knife. How come?"

"He took it from an ancient ruin in your reality. I believe it's called a 'Mall'?"

Fucking mall ninjas, man. "Alright. So, you can't give me a hand? A spell or something?"

Again, the goddess squirms in her seat. "Sadly, I cannot interact with your world directly, remember, son of Adam? The only spell I have is the spell I used the first time to summon you here."

"But you didn't summon me here. I was hit by a bus."

"Correct," she says nonchalantly.

Excuse me, but what the fuck? "You're telling me you have a spell that summons a truck that can kill people?"

"Summon them to another world," she corrects. "A big difference. It is the only spell we gods can use in another world. It's a pretty popular spell as well."

"Summoning them... by killing them."

"Detail, details," she says.

Well, that makes it easier. "Then, give me the spell!"

"...what?"

"Give. Me. The. Spell!"

Third time's the charm, I guess.

Seven minutes on the clock. Back at it again with my bullshit. Cuggi glasses on, a magic bus pass in my hand. Ready to rumble.

"What are thos-s-s-s-s-se?!" asks the reverse medusa once more.

But this time, I'm ready. I raise my bus pass, push in my glasses, and speak the immortal words of Master Kirby.

"Poyo."

A portal of darkness opens up and out flies a yellow school bus... of death! It runs over the reverse medusa and crashes against a far-off vine wall in a blaze of glory, as fire engulfs the being. It smells delicious.

I turn around towards the rest of the snakes, fire reflected on my glasses, and I smirk at them. "Wanna catch a ride, too?"

They do not want to catch a ride, instead slithering away from me as far as snakely possible.

For now, I'm safe. I allow myself to fall to the ground and breathe a sigh of relief as the adrenaline leaves my body. Weird how I didn't shit myself when I died. I guess I'm all out of shits.

I take a look at the scoreboard above, just to see my dumb face looking down at me.

There, in eight place, is me with 13 points. I guess that defeating the thing gave me its points. Shit. I wanted out, not in. Well, there's still time. I'm sure somebody will replace me at some point. Might as well do what Master Kirby would do and rest up while I can.

I scan the rest of the people on the board while I'm at it, to see some familiar faces. In tenth place is the LB with 6 points. Above him, in ninth place, is the pixie girl thing, with 10. Next is me, at 13.

After that is one of the blue furries, at 17. How the hell did that happen? Sixth and fifth place is Trevor the gingerfuck and Hayden, both at 25. Big leap there. Fourth is the half beast with 34. Third is Okayden, weirdly enough, with 37. Second is the Vamwolf, with a solid 40. Gotta love big numbers.

And in first place, with a whopping 74 points, is... 

Brayden.