After prying the small lizardman off my arm and pulling out the remaining teeth, I look around the room. It appears to be a barebones break room with only a table, a few chairs, and a fridge with a microwave on top. However, it does seem to be connected to the maintenance hallways.

  As I walk through the maintenance hallways, I can hear the lizards trying to break down the door. I decide to run before they succeed. At the end of the hallway, I find stairs leading both up and down. Not wanting to get overrun in a basement with no escape, I go up and find two doors—one leading to more hallways and another opening into a dimly lit exhibition hall. While the hallways are better lit, the exhibition hall provides better places to hide.

  As I step into the hall, a sensor must catch my movement because the automated tour begins to play.

  “Welcome to the third part of the tour: Warfare Throughout the Ages.”

  The blood drains from my face as the tour begins explaining something about a war involving some guy called Enmerkar.

  "Oh shit, gotta go," I mutter as I head back into the maintenance hallway—only to hear many clawed feet rushing down the hall. I slam the door shut and run deeper inside.

  Something in the medieval section catches my eye—a two-handed mace. Scanning over the plaque, I read:

  “Ulrich von Jungingen. Not important... Grand Master of the Teutonic Knights. That sounds cool.”

  I check whether it's a replica or the original.

  “A replica made in the same way as the original, which is on display at the Malbork Castle Museum in Poland.”

  I take my crowbar and smash the protective glass, grabbing the heavy mace. Holding the replica in my hands, I think, While the real thing would be cool, the replica is probably better. The original would be— I glance at the plaque again.

  “Six hundred years old.”

  I don’t have long to admire my new toy before a group of lizardmen bursts through the door leading from the maintenance hallway. Since they’re still decently far away, I use my revolver to thin them out as they charge. By the time they reach me, four are dead, and one is wounded. That still leaves me with eight who can fight.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The first one to reach me is the first to go—its head disappears as I swing the mace into the side of its skull. As the headless lizardman collapses to the floor, both the remaining lizardmen and I stand in shocked silence.

  "I know I got stronger since coming here, but holy shit."

  The mace had just removed its head.

  I don’t have much time to revel in my newfound strength before an archer looses an arrow at me. I barely dodge it, but the scare is enough to spike my adrenaline. I can feel the mark enhancing it again. If I was about twice as strong as when I arrived, now I was about eight times stronger. And all things considered, I like to think I was already above average in strength for someone my age.

  The mace now barely feels like a heavy weapon, so I decide to try something. Taking it in one hand, I swing at the still-stunned lizardmen. My hit is a bit crooked, so the first lizardman’s head turns to mist, while the second is decapitated. I don’t even notice the third one sneaking toward me for a stealth attack—until it gets flung into a display and impaled on a rack of swords.

  Even though the third one surprises me, the adrenaline high keeps me from thinking about it too much. Using the momentum, I perform an overhead swing and, out of morbid curiosity, activate Powered Strike.

  To its credit, this lizardman doesn’t lose focus like the others, who just stand there with their mouths—jaws? Maws? Doesn’t matter—hanging open. It tries to block the incoming attack, but it soon learns that was a mistake. Its bronze sword shatters under the iron head of the mace, and the impact crushes it like a soda can.

  With my mace now thoroughly stuck in the museum’s tile floor, I draw my MP5 and shoot the archer perched on top of the Roman weaponry exhibit. While adrenaline helps with fighting, it does not help with thinking. Caught in a near-manic frenzy, I hyper-focus on one enemy at a time, losing track of the others surrounding me. I only realize my mistake seconds before they try to stab me, failing to dodge completely and gaining several cuts along my back and arms.

  Now very pissed about how they ruined the hoodie I got from the supermarket on the first floor, I pull my trusty crowbar from my belt and pummel the stabby bastard—until stabby bastard #2 tries his luck. It doesn’t end well for him, but his attack gives me an opening to run deeper into the museum. I need to shake off the remaining lizards and find a place to rest and bandage my wounds.

  I burst into a sprint, leaving my mace firmly stuck in the floor. As I run, I pass through the art sector, the historical artifacts wing, and even the storage area before spotting something—a ladder to the roof. It’s nearly unnoticeable between all the boxes, but I climb it, open the hatch, and enter a small room.

  There’s a door that should lead to the roof proper, but when I open it, I find myself staring at the same large stone walls as the dungeon corridors.