Deathstroke took about one second to accept the situation. Then he fired a grappling hook straight out, anchoring it firmly into the wall behind Schiller, and Schiller jumped onto the cable, taking the distance in a few quick strides until he reached the door.
"What the heck?" Deathstroke said. "After you disappeared, that magic circle wouldn't activate no matter what I did. I had to go back to the first pyramid and split it open, and then I fell into some weird room. Took me forever to get out."
"The room with the disks?"
"That's right," Deathstroke complained. "Text, pictures, the whole mess. Took me ages to figure it out. What happened to you?"
"Nothing." Schiller shook his head.
"Who do you think built this place?" Deathstroke advanced through the tomb passage with Schiller, muttering, "The inside of a real pyramid isn't like this, right?"
"Of course not. The person who designed puzzles like these could only have been an ancient Egyptian."
"What do you mean?"
"If it had been a modern person, what we'd be facing right now would be puzzles entirely in English, an army of man-eating scarabs, trap-filled tomb passages that spat fire and had hammers and axes flying everywhere, and a resurrected pharaoh mummy waiting for us at the final boss gate."
"Uh..."
Deathstroke thought about it. If he had designed these puzzles, those probably really would have been the elements he used. Blame Hollywood. That was the only kind of movie they knew how to make. They didn't care what ancient Egyptian culture was actually like, as long as the plot was thrilling, exciting, bizarre, and strange enough.
But in reality, the puzzles along the way had not been exciting. They were more like repetitive labor. On top of that, the ancient Egyptian text and