Bobby stepped through the mangled automatic doors leading out of the hospital's Accident and Emergency department. As he crossed the threshold, a quest notification flashed:

Quest Complete! 'Doctor's Orders: Escape the Hospital'

+500 XP Gained

≪ Level Up! ≫

1 Skill Point Gained

A wave of relief washed over Bobby as the words faded. He had survived the nightmare within those blood-soaked halls. While not as exhilarating as his first level up, gaining strength was still welcome, given the challenges ahead. But he was still only level 3, and he needed to be careful.

Bobby considered investing his new skill point, but hesitated. I think I’ll save this one till later.

With the hospital behind him, it was time to take in his surroundings. Gripping his scavenged pistol, he stepped forward, taking in the devastation as he did so. Wrecked ambulances were strewn haphazardly, some flipped on their sides, others crumpled inward as if crushed by a giant's fist. Nearby cars had suffered similar fates - scorched, shattered, and strewn across the road.

A downward ramp led to lower levels of the hospital complex. Before him, a winding access road curved out of sight, lined with scraggly trees. In the distance, Bobby glimpsed skyscrapers rising from London, their silhouettes jagged and worn even from afar.

An oppressive silence hung over the area. No signs of life stirred amidst the destruction. The only movement came from greasy plumes of black smoke that continued spiralling up from unseen fires within the city.

Bobby tightened his grip on the scavenged pistol. This grim vision was now the extent of his world. London had become an urban wasteland, ravaged by some unknown cataclysm. Surviving this city gone to hell would require all his luck and skill.

Bobby's instincts told him now was not the time to scavenge the hospital grounds. After the calamity, people would have already scavenged a place like this. Medical supplies would be invaluable to survivors trying to endure this new world.

Reaching the access road, Bobby got his bearings and turned right, hoping it would lead toward the Thames. If he could make it to the river, the vantage point would allow him to survey the surrounding landscape and plan his next move.

He moved cautiously, alert for any movement or signs of life, one hand resting on the grip of his pistol. The row of trees stood to his left, branches reaching outward like gnarled fingers clawing at the sky. The devastated landscape evoked a post-apocalyptic realm, like the setting of some dystopian video game. But this was no game.

The dangers here were real and unknown.

Bobby felt out of his depth traversing this capital zone. In all the games he had played, you started in easier regions, fighting similar-levelled mobs to gain experience. But that diseased rat had nearly killed him at level 1. The threats here seemed far beyond his current abilities.

Hugging the centre of the road gave him better visibility, but also left him exposed. His eyes continuously scanned the rubble-strewn pavement and adjacent buildings. Each shadowed doorway or alley they passed seemed a potential ambush point.

Despite the new gear, Bobby felt a lingering sense of vulnerability. The hospital had been a safe haven, but out here, the threats were unpredictable. He itched to find somewhere defensible to hole up and take stock, yet pressing on felt like his only option.

Once safe, Bobby aimed to unravel the mysteries of this strange new reality. That mental interface - it reacted to his focused thoughts and intents. Mastering it seemed key to progressing beyond mere survival. The tutorial message suggested focusing first on combat abilities.

Well, you dumped me in a capital zone. So no choice there, really. He thought,

Still, Bobby sensed deeper complexities to this system than any game he'd played.

To thrive here, he needed to understand the intricate rules governing this new world. That meant analysing his skills and all available disciplines. Every point invested wisely could prove pivotal down the road. Rash decisions would only hamper him later if things like stat reallocation didn’t exist.

Bobby hadn't ventured far when the red brick facade of the Lambeth Palace Library caught his eye. He paused, considering it.

I wonder if reading books gives stat boosts like other games? I mean, it is a library.

He focused inward, manifesting the system interface before him. It overlapped with the library, taunting him with possibilities. The knowledge section appeared under a bookcase emblem, yet its panels stood vacant.

Maybe I should find out.

Drawing his pistol, Bobby approached the entrance in a combat stance, senses primed. The modern grey door still bore the painted letters "Lambeth Palace Library." Glancing up, he realised the structure seemed intact, its dark glass windows whole. As he neared, the automatic doors slid open,

I’m surprised that still works. He thought, but then again, the light in the changing room was on as well.

Bobby swept into the foyer, surprised by the lack of damage. The space appeared almost tended to, as if someone lived there.

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

Could there be any survivors here? No, too easy to just stroll inside if so. They would have fortified the entrance. A system notification popped up.

Quest - Explore Lambeth Palace Library and discover a brief part of history. Exp variable. Do you accept? Y/N?

He selected yes. The quest line flared, then faded into his menu. After finishing the hospital escape, he had expected a main storyline to emerge. That was the convention in games.

But this isn’t any game. He told himself, this is life or death now.

Scanning the foyer, Bobby spotted a plaque. Stepping closer, he read:

Lambeth Palace Library, founded in 1610, is the historic library and record office of the Archbishops of Canterbury and the principal repository of the documentary history of the Church of England.

Bobby pondered the plaque. Before now, a historic library would have bored him. But with the world transformed, he felt eager to explore this place, especially since it was his sole active quest.

Wandering past the front desk, his footsteps echoed through the silent interior. Despite being founded in 1610, the decor was modern - all sleek glass and dark contemporary hues.

Weapon ready, Bobby moved deeper inside. The elevators beckoned, but he avoided the claustrophobic confines, unsure if the power would hold.

Reaching the next floor, something seemed off - the interior dimensions felt skewed from the exterior. As he crept down a mahogany-panelled hallway, an elevator dinged open, doors hissing apart.

Whirling around, Bobby aimed his pistol into the empty lift, finger tense on the trigger.

"Get a grip, Bobby boy," he muttered, turning back to the corridor. He ignored the elevator and continued stalking ahead. The hallway stretched on longer than seemed possible before reaching another elevator bank. Again, the doors hissed open at his approach, beckoning entry.

"I don't think so," Bobby said. "I'll take the stairs, thanks."

The doors slid shut with an almost disappointed thump. Bobby climbed two more floors before his surroundings shifted. The sleek modern interior gave way to ancient design - rough brick and timber beams, as if he'd stepped back centuries in time.

Hearing a shuffling noise ahead, he raised his pistol and crept forward. As he turned the corner, he found himself face-to-face with a hunched silhouette - an elderly woman dressed like a librarian. Without thinking, he looked to see her level.

Archivist Crone

Level ???

What! I can’t even see her level. Fuck, I don’t wanna mess with her. He thought, as he readied himself to fire his 9mm. But the woman showed no aggression, merely gesturing for him to follow. Ah, what the heck. Against his better judgment, Bobby lowered his gun and complied. Marian led him to a cozy reading room lined with books. A fire crackled in the hearth, two wingback chairs positioned before it.

"Please, have a seat, dear. You have so much knowledge to absorb," The Archivist said, voice raspy but not unkind. She grabbed a dusty tome off a shelf and pressed it into Bobby's hands. He glanced at the title - "A History of London."

Bobby hesitated, then settled into the plush chair. The Archivist took the seat opposite him, watching expectantly. Sighing, Bobby opened the book, the old pages creaking. He had come here seeking knowledge, after all. Perhaps this encounter was meant to guide him.

The librarian nodded approvingly as Bobby began to read.

He opened the book, but the words on the pages were indecipherable symbols. Flipping through the book revealed that the entire tome contained the same cryptic script.

"I can't read this," he said, looking up at the librarian.

The Archivist's eyes narrowed. "Try again," she insisted, standing from her armchair and leaning over him, tapping the book with one long nail.

Bobby shook his head, but the old woman refused to relent. Moving with surprising speed, she snatched another text off a shelf, this one even larger and more decrepit. Again Bobby opened it, to no avail. The contents were more strange glyphs.

The Archivist grew increasingly annoyed as this repeated with book after book. She shoved them into Bobby's hands; her nails catching and digging into his skin as she ordered him to keep trying. After the fourth illegible tome, frustration smouldered in her eyes.

"Why can you not read them?" she hissed. "The knowledge is all here for you!"

Bobby shrank back in the chair, gripping his pistol tight beneath the book. The woman's genteel facade had slipped away, revealing someone... or something... volatile and dangerous.

The Archivist's eyes blazed with anger. "Insolent child!" she shrieked. "The secrets of this library shall remain hidden from the likes of you!"

She hurled the book in her hands to the floor and stormed out of the reading room, slamming the door behind her. The walls shook from the force.

Bobby let out a shaky breath. The Archivist's true nature had revealed itself - whatever she was, he wanted no part of it. Gripping his pistol, he rose from the chair. He had to get out of this place.

The only exit was the door the Archivist had departed through. Bobby crossed the room, pressing his ear to the wood. He could hear the woman muttering and shuffling about in the hall.

Yeah, hell no. I ain’t going out there. There has to be another way out. He thought.

Glancing around, Bobby spied a gap between two bookcases along the back wall. Rows of shelves stretched into shadowy chambers beyond. Grasping his gun, he slipped between the bookcases, entering a vast maze of shelves that seemed to grow taller with each row. The aisles stretched on into darkness, crammed with ancient leather-bound tomes. He moved as silently as possible, ears strained for any sign of the Archivist following.

As he crept through the musty chambers, Bobby heard a distant shriek - the Archivist had discovered him missing. He looked back, but he was well and truly lost within the impossibly large bookcases. There was no other way to go but forwards. Breaking into a run, he ran between the monolithic like bookcases.

The shrieks grew louder, echoing all around him. Bobby's heart pounded as he sprinted blindly through the shadowy passages. The aisles seemed to shift and turn inexplicably, preventing him from finding an exit.

Rounding a corner, Bobby skidded to a halt. Before him loomed a towering shelf filled with sinister artifacts - shrunken heads, animal skulls, jars of preserved creatures floating in amber liquid.

The Archivist's bizarre collection.

Another enraged shriek pierced the air, closer now. Bobby turned and plunged down a narrow aisle, the shelves pressing in on both sides. The wood creaked and groaned around him, almost alive.

"You cannot escape me!" The Archivist's voice boomed from the darkness. Bobby ran faster, weaving between cases, desperately seeking a way out of this nightmarish library. The Archivist's wrathful cries echoed after him as he delved deeper into the ancient collection's cursed depths.

Bobby's lungs burned as he sprinted through the endless aisles. Then his foot caught on something - a fallen book laying open on the floor. He stumbled, catching himself on a shelf.

Glancing down, Bobby froze. The book glowed, emanating a soft, warm light. Strange runes shimmered on its pages. This tome felt different... benign, even hopeful. It urged him on.

Bending down, he picked it up in one hand, clutching its comforting weight to his chest. From out of the shadows, the Archivist's gnarled hand grasped his shoulder, her raspy voice screeching in his ear. "Thought you could steal from me, boy? Now you'll stay here forever!"

He hardly had time to react before she hurled him against the nearest bookcase. Bobby slammed into the heavy shelves, toppling them backwards in a deafening crash. He ended up sprawled awkwardly across the fallen bookcase, stunned and disoriented, books falling onto him, burying him in the weight of ancient knowledge.

The glowing tome fell from his grasp, all but forgotten in his daze. The Archivist loomed over him, a dangerous glint in her eye. In her hands she held an open book, its pages starkly blank.

"Don't worry, boy," she crooned, "Your story can live on... in here."

She tapped a long, curled nail on the empty pages. Dread gripped Bobby's heart at her implication. He struggled to rise, but the weight of the books pinned him down.

The Archivist bent closer, ready to enact some ominous ritual on him, the blank book poised greedily. Bobby strained against the books, desperate to escape, but it was no use.

"Now," rasped the Archivist, "let us begin..."