Lucian wasn't going to lie and say that he wasn't grateful to know more about his present circumstances, with how little he knew thus far. However, he really would have appreciated being given the chance to actually digest the info dump he was subjected to, instead of being forced to make what amounted to a snap decision; one with unknown consequences for his future.
> 10, 9, 8…
Absolutely indifferent to his internal griping, the mechanical voice kept on going; countdown keeping apace without any discernible pause.
He immediately discarded all his irrelevant thoughts, mulling over the three choices narrated to him.
Knowledge. Instinct. Perception.
Of the three choices, the first one that vied for his attention was Instinct.
It seemed like a brilliant choice, considering he didn’t have a clue—not a bloody one—about anything and everything going on right now.
Thinking on it more deeply made him hesitate and reconsider however.
Even if his instincts became as sensitive as a bloodhound's nose, gut feelings weren't going to be all that important when he didn't have any solid, actual facts to compare and contrast it against.
A lack of information. Vague directions. Missing memories.
What was the use of instincts in the face of all that?
With that thought at the forefront, the raven-haired man eliminated Instinct from his consideration.
> 7, 6, 5…
He unconsciously started pacing back and forth, mind bouncing between the two remaining options like a pinball.
“Dammit! This would be so much fucking easier if I could actually remember more than just general facts and simple fucking things about myself.” Lucian swore under his breath, curses unrestrainedly flying from his mouth to alleviate some of his mounting stress.
Between Knowledge and Perception, he was honestly more partial to the former. Not only did he think he was quite a perceptive guy—a judgment made purely on instinct, ironic as that was—the moment he had heard the word, ‘Knowledge’, a saying had surfaced in his mind:
Knowledge was power.
While quite a trite turn of phrase, it sounded like pretty wise advice to follow.
> “4, 3, 2…”
“Knowledge or Perception … damn it to hell, but would it have killed y’all to elaborate just a little bit?” Lucian grumbled furiously.
Knowledge or Perception. Knowledge or Perception. Knowledge or Perception…
Even though he favoured one over the other, he still couldn't help but hesitate on making a definitive choice.
Unfortunately, it looked like he was almost out of time.
> 1…
“Fuck it! I choose Knowledge!” Lucian declared panickily, a shiver of dread tearing down his spine after registering only a mere second remained on the proverbial clock.
…
He really hoped his choice wouldn't come back and bite him in the ass immediately.
> Player has selected Knowledge.
>
>
>
> Initialising download…
>
>
>
> Please standby.
An upbeat, wordless melody streamed into his ears immediately after the mechanical voice's last word. The rightmost corner of Lucian's lips ticked upwards ever so slightly, a spark of amusement dancing in his eyes and causing a haunting golden hue to bleed in at the edges of the light brown orbs.
Unconsciously, his pacing slowed to a stop even as he cocked his head slightly, wondering why such a tacky tune was causing him to feel such an emotion. Eventually, he gave it up as a lost cause when he couldn't come up with any concrete reasons; unsatisfying as that felt.
Chalking it up to the memories lost during the so-called transferal procedure, he forcefully stopped thinking about it and started busying himself with other things.
Like properly examining the Closet Horror’s remains, for one.
Lucian walked back over to the mess of yellow-stained dust sheets and viscous black goop, having unknowingly created some distance after his agitated bout of pacing.
He made sure to avoid the spreading puddle of yellow liquid, uninterested in letting his boots get into contact with such an unknown. For all he knew, it was an acid of some sort and would eat through his boots like famished termites devoured soft wood.
It was always better to be safe rather than sorry, right?
Lucian came to a stop right next to the makeshift burial mound, an assessing light glimmering in the depths of his eyes as he looked it over.
…
In all honesty, the entire construct looked like it was one touch away from collapsing in on itself; the end table abandoned right on the top looking like it was the most stable piece of the makeshift burial mound.
He instinctively tapped out a beat against his cargo pants—and if it was suspiciously in rhythm with the melody streaming into his ears, who could tell?— as he thought over how to dismantle the pile with as few issues as possible.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Lucian eventually shook his head, feeling like he really didn't need to think about this so hard. Instead of mulling over the issue any further, he acted; right hand striking out and grabbing onto the end table's thin stand before reeling it back as fast as lightning.
As the end table shifted from its position, the yellow liquid clinging to its circular top slid off and splashed down into the puddle below, making it spread even further. At the same time, he checked the wood over and found that its impact against the chair's sturdier surface hadn't seemed to have left behind any visible damage.
Odd as it might seem, the fact made him relieved. While he was sure there were other end tables strewn across the room, using this particular one, for as short of a time as it might have been, caused him to feel slightly attached to it.
Lucian laughed to himself, tickled by the odd direction his thoughts had gone down.
Focusing back on the pile of canvas, furniture, and gooey remains, he started thinking over how to disassemble it…
Before shaking his head violently, chiding himself for thinking too hard about it, again. Acting immediately, he drew his right arm back and swung it forward and from right to left, smashing it into the chair.
Said chair, already balanced precariously, tumbled to the side and off the squished corpse with a loud crack; a large plume of dust erupting from where it crash landed.
Having predicted something of the sort would happen, Lucian had already jumped back the moment the first reverberation travelled up his arm, escaping the expanding dust cloud.
Bringing his hoodie's left sleeve up to cover his nose and mouth, he patiently waited for the dust to settle back down, not wanting to get another helping of the disgusting particles.
Once the air was mostly clear again, he stepped closer to the double layer of yellow-stained dust sheets, intending to more closely inspect the misshapen spherical lump.
Before the raven-haired man could do anything of the sort, a glint of something transparent, located close to the edges of the black and yellow mass, caught his attention and knocked his initial intentions off the tracks.
Kneeling down to get a better look, he focused and saw the edge of something that looked distinctly tube-like, seemingly made of glass and creating a pair of cylindrical bulges in the concealing sheets; an extremely conspicuous sight, now that he was actually aware of them.
Even as he was wondering what the items were, his hand wasn't idle and was already stretching out; intending to peel the canvas away so he could get a better look.
However, just before his fingertips could touch the fabric, the wordless melody came to an abrupt halt, immediately causing his ears to perk up even as the emotionless mechanical voice made a reappearance.
> Download complete.
>
>
>
> Knowledge implant successful.
>
>
>
> Make skin-on-item contact to acquire a short blurb about it; comprising its name, a brief descriptor, and remarks sourced from the greater Nightmares Unlimited database.
“What good timing.” Lucian unconsciously quipped once he finished digesting the information.
While he was happy that his choice sounded like a useful ability, he was suspicious about the fortuitous timing of the download's completion. Admittedly, it really could just be a stroke of luck. The issue was if the timing wasn't actually a coincidental one.
Even as his mind was mulling over such thoughts, he realised that a togglable switch had appeared in his mind at some unknown point in time; one he instinctively knew he would have to consciously trigger in order to get the Knowledge implant to work.
At the same time, his hand was already continuing with his earlier aborted actions. He gingerly peeled away the stained canvas and was surprised to find two test tubes stoppered with a rubber cork; each one filled with a familiar neon yellow liquid.
Without any hesitation, he pressed the pads of his fingers against the chilly glass; consciously triggering the Knowledge implant at the same time.
A lyrical voice, very unlike the previous one’s mechanical timbre, entered his ears like a whisper on the winds; soft and gentle and calming, all in one.
Name: Toxic Essence.
Descriptor: A Closet Horror’s lifeblood.
Remarks: Do. Not. drink.
…
Lucian was extremely happy he hadn’t touched any of the Toxic Essence.
However, he also couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed about how brief the blurb was. He conceded the mechanical voice had warned it would be short, but knowing of it and truly wrestling with the realities of such a thing were two completely different matters.
Shaking his head free of such pessimistic thoughts, the raven-haired man carefully picked up one of the test tubes and slipped it in his hoodie’s front right pocket.
Once it was safely secured, he picked up the other one, consciously triggering the Knowledge implant as he did, and slipped it into his hoodie’s left front pocket; the mellifluous voice reciting an identical blurb next to his ears.
Even while he was listening, his eyes swept over the room's entire length and width, forcing him to realise something all of a sudden…
How in the fuck was he supposed to escape the room?
----------------------------------------
After that realisation, Lucian spent close to five minutes pulling off all the numerous dust sheets and piling them in an out of the way corner, trying to find a hidden exit.
Unfortunately, he failed.
On the bright side, he did find lots of different furniture; the majority of which comprised chairs and tables that had a similar aesthetic to the first one he had used as a projectile.
The only standouts amongst the bunch were a fully decked out king-sized bed, accoutrements included, situated close to the centre of the room, and another ornamented wardrobe identical to the first, thankfully lacking a hostile occupant after he had quickly checked.
While finding the wardrobe had been a nasty shock, the lack of a Closet Horror within had made him feel relieved. Unfortunately, it also lacked anything useful; the only thing contained within being a full body mirror stuck to the inside of one of its doors.
Lucian stared at his reflection in the plain mirror, carefully examining the line of damage the Closet Horror had left behind in its last-ditch attack.
At a glance, it looked like someone had decided to shave off every single strand of hair along the length while pouring acid along the strip; leaving behind a thin line of nasty red welts.
Although blisters hadn’t developed along the wound as of yet, he wouldn’t be surprised to see some appear down the line.
Assuming he had access to another mirror once he escaped the room, anyway.
Besides examining the wound, the raven-haired man took the opportunity to examine himself in full; curious to see if anything was—or at least felt—out of place.
With stylishly cropped hair, black as a raven's wings, brown eyes so light they could be mistaken as golden under certain lights, and an above average appearance and physique—if he said so himself—he had a feeling attracting women had never been a particular issue.
…
The thought hadn't even lasted for a second before a ferocious wave of regret burst out from his heart; taking him completely by surprise and forcing him to stagger forward, legs turning to jelly.
Even as he propped himself up against the wardrobe's open doors, he was desperately trying to understand why he was feeling such an intense burst of emotion. Not even his missing memories had engendered such intensity, something that made him concerned in and of itself – if the wave of regret hadn't instantly drowned it out under its ferocious deluge.
The only clue he had, little as it was, was that it was linked to the last thought that had flashed across his mind while preening over his appearance.
Colour seemed to drain from his eyes as the raven-haired man stared back at himself in the mirror, confusion causing them to look grey and lifeless.
Obviously, he couldn’t be certain, but it seemed like such a strong feeling of regret came from the mere thought of women.
Was it one in particular, or was it the gender as a whole. He really didn't know.
Lucian wanted to feel angry at the injustice of it all, but the relentless tide of regret smothered the nascent spark before it could even become a proper bonfire.
He squeezed his eyes shut as the emotion continued its rampage, something that would have persisted for who knew how long if he hadn't fallen into a slight trance; body starting to breathe in a specific pattern as if it had been ingrained into his muscles, missing memories be damned.
…
Time crept by – deep, calming breaths the only sounds to be heard in the room for some time.
After what felt like hours, but was in all actuality something like ten minutes, Lucian managed to beat back the tidal wave of regret and quashed it down; totally and without mercy.
He couldn't help but wonder though.
What, or who, was the source of this intense regret?
Probing at his memories for a last desperate time, he gave up the proverbial ghost when all he was greeted with, once again, was a gaping void of emptiness. Opening his eyes back up, light brown was reflected in light brown once again. Just as he was about to push away from the open door, he froze.
At the bottom of the mirror, nearly outside his current field of view, was a single, solitary eye; one that silently stared at him from its position right underneath the king-sized bed.
A malicious light glinted in the slitted pupil, something further accentuated by the surrounding neon yellow iris and burning scarlet sclera – almost as if it were a world solely comprising a barren desert being encroached upon by an ocean of blood.
While its colouration was eerie and creepy, to put it mildly, Lucian was thankful for it. Otherwise, he would have failed to spot it.
This creature, whatever it was, clearly had a modicum of intelligence – judging from the gleam of clarity in its focused gaze. From the small gap between the bottom of the bedframe and the floor, he also believed the creature wasn't a very big one.
Though the raven-haired man's body froze from the panic he was feeling, his mind was contrastingly awhirl; trying to come up with a way to get to the creature and hoping it hadn't noticed that his attention was squarely focused on it.
He had absolutely no idea how long the thing had been staring at him, and he had absolutely no desire to be subjected to a sudden, unknown attack – especially if it was capable of doing something similar to what the Closet Horror had done at the end of the previous encounter.
Lucian eyeballed the distance between himself and the king-sized bed, gauging it to be somewhere in the fifteen to twenty metre range.
Obviously, he couldn't be certain, but he guessed the creature didn’t have any long-ranged capabilities—at least nothing that could cross 15 metres—since it hadn’t attacked as of yet.
He wasn't going to assume it was incapable of attacking at a range though. If it did indeed have one, however, then crossing the fifteen metres of distance was going to prove… problematic.
Such a prospect, while daunting, didn’t mean that he was going to give up or anything. The raven-haired man's eyes darted from side to side rapidly, trying to come up with a plan to cross the distance and smash the creepy fucker.
…
A bolt of inspiration struck his mind as his gaze darted from furniture to furniture. Grasping onto the sudden flash, Lucian's mind quickly chewed over the logistics of his rapidly crystallising plan, checking to see if it had any obvious problems – besides its sheer recklessness, anyway.
Even after several seconds had passed, he couldn't think of anything obviously problematic.
Lucian hesitated for one more moment, planning out his soon-to-be route in his mind and with his eyes, for a final time…
Before pushing away from the door and whipping around, launching his end table at the solitary creepy ass eye, and sprinting, at a breakneck speed, towards the nearest piece of solid cover. As he ran, the raven-haired man kept an eye on the end table as it spun end over end, fingers crossed—even if only in his mind—hoping it would prove to be a worthy distraction if any of his earlier assumptions proved erroneous.