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The ground beneath him was cold. Seamus could feel the rough texture of stone pressing against his skin, damp and uneven. He blinked slowly, his eyelids heavy, the world around him hazy and distorted, as though the light itself had warped. For a moment, he didn’t move, disoriented and unsure of where he was.
He sat up slowly, the ache in his muscles making him wince. Everything was still spinning slightly, the dull throb at the back of his skull pulsing in time with his heartbeat. His hand reached out instinctively, fingers brushing against the wet stone. Cold. Real. He blinked again, trying to clear his vision, trying to recall where he was and how he’d gotten here.
His apartment. The game. The screen—
He glanced down at himself and froze. Gone were the clothes he had been wearing—his shirt, trousers, shoes. Instead, his body was clad in a roughly spun fabric, a simple tunic, loose and scratchy against his bare skin. When he reached for his pocket out of habit, there wasn’t one. No phone, no keys. He had nothing.
Where the hell am I?
Seamus pushed himself to his feet, steadying himself against the cave wall as the dizziness slowly subsided. His mind was racing, trying to piece together the events of the night before, but everything felt…fractured. The light. The message on the screen. That strange sensation of being pulled, stretched thin, warped, and then—
He was standing in a cave. That much he could ascertain. The walls were rough, natural, and there was no sign of the apartment, his desk, or anything of the world he knew he’d been in moments before. It was as though the ground had swallowed him whole.
He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, watching as a thin cloud dissipated into the cold air. There had to be an explanation for this. He reached again at the empty space where his phone would have been, but there was no comfort to be found there. He was alone, truly alone, in whatever this place was.
Seamus cursed softly under his breath. This wasn’t right. None of this was right.
He started walking, footsteps echoing faintly in the enclosed space. The cave stretched on, twisting and turning, the walls narrowing into tunnels in some places and opening onto larger chambers in others. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching him from the shadows, though whenever he stopped to listen, the only sound was the steady drip of water from the ceiling.
As he moved deeper into the cave, the light began to change. It wasn’t just the natural dimness of the cave—something else was at work. The air shimmered faintly, like heat rising off a desert floor, distorting the walls and casting strange, flickering shadows. Seamus stopped, frowning as he tried to make sense of it.
Before he could process the thought, something caught his eye—a faint, glowing shape hovering in the air just ahead. It was small, barely noticeable against the darkness, but it pulsed softly with a warm, golden light. Seamus hesitated, glancing behind him to the dark path he had already traveled. There was nothing there, no way to go back.
With no other option, he stepped toward the light.
As he got closer, the glow intensified, revealing more details. It wasn’t a light—it was an interface. A floating display, suspended in mid-air, translucent and flickering faintly at the edges. The words were written in clean, familiar text, though they sent a chill down his spine.
“Welcome, traveler.”
Class: Unassigned
Level: 1
Location: The Spawning Grounds
He stared at the text, his pulse quickening. This absolutely had to be a dream. He’d read about lucid dreaming, how the contents of the dream could be influenced by whatever the mind was focused on before falling asleep. That must be it, yes, He’d fallen asleep at his desk while playing Endless Odyssey and now he was dreaming of being in a video game.
But he hadn’t fallen asleep. He wasn't dreaming. He could feel the cold stone beneath his feet, the damp air in his lungs. This wasn’t imaginal. It was real.
But how? How could this be happening?
The interface blinked and new text appeared, scrolling across the screen.
“Quest: Survive the Night.”
Seamus took a step back, his heart pounding in his chest. Whatever this place was—whatever was happening—it wasn’t going to let him leave easily.
Adrenaline kicked in. He looked around, mind racing. He had no idea what to expect, no idea what dangers lay ahead. But one thing was clear—if he didn’t move, if he didn’t figure out what was happening, it was evident he wasn’t going to last long.
He glanced at the interface again, then at the dark tunnel ahead of him. The path forward was uncertain, but standing here, exposed, was certainly no less so.
Seamus took a deep breath, squared his jaw, clenched his fists, and started walking.
***
The tunnel yawned before him, twisting and narrowing in ways that defied any sense of direction. The walls closed in dramatically at times, rough-hewn stone pressing on either side of him, forcing him to duck or turn sideways in order to squeeze through. At other times, the cave would open suddenly onto vast, cavernous spaces, their ceilings lost in the thick shadows above, the sound of his footfalls swallowed by sheer emptiness.
The air was cool, damp, clinging to his skin as he moved cautiously forward. Every step echoed faintly, the soft crunch of loose stone underfoot a steady reminder of how utterly alone he was. The light was faint here—what little there was came from peculiar, bioluminescent mosses clinging to the stone, casting an eerie greenish glow that only served to deepen the shadows.
Seamus’s eyes adjusted slowly, his senses heightening as he navigated the unfamiliar terrain. The flickering UI was still hovering at the edge of his vision, its faint glow barely illuminating the space around him. The text was static for now—no new messages, no further guidance. Only the lingering directive: “Survive the Night.”
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A shiver ran down his spine, though not from the cold. The meaning behind the words was clear enough—something was coming. But what? And when?
The path ahead curved sharply to the left, and as Seamus rounded the corner, he froze. The tunnel opened into a wider chamber, its floor uneven and littered with rocks and debris. But that wasn’t what had stopped him.
It was the sound. A low, rhythmic clicking—like stones being tapped together in the dark. It came from somewhere up ahead, echoing off the walls, making it impossible to determine how far or near was its source.
Seamus held his breath, listening.
The clicking grew louder, closer now. Something was stirring in the darkness.
Slowly, cautiously, he backed away, his hand reaching instinctively for something—anything—to defend himself with. His fingers closed around the rough handle of a small, makeshift weapon, no more than a jagged piece of stone tied to a stick, strapped to his waist when he had awoken. He hadn’t noticed it at first, but it was now his only lifeline.
The clicking stopped.
For a moment, the silence was deafening. Then, with a sudden burst of movement, something darted out from the shadows—a blur of chitin and sharp edges, skittering across the rocky floor toward him.
Seamus barely had time to react. He swung the stone club instinctively, the weapon making contact with a sharp crack as the creature recoiled, hissing and retreating into the darkness. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline surging through his veins. He didn’t know what it was - some kind of oversized insect, its many spindly legs clicking on the stone as it scuttled back into the shadows - but he didn’t wait to find out.
He moved quickly, scanning the chamber for any sign of another attack. The low glow of the moss offered little comfort, casting long, jagged shadows that made everything seem like it was shifting, moving. But the creature didn’t return.
Seamus exhaled, his grip on the weapon tight, knuckles white. Whatever that thing was, it wasn’t the only danger here. The message echoed in his mind: “Survive the Night.”
Survival. That was all he could focus on now.
He looked around, scanning the chamber for anything he could fashion into a weapon or some sort of defense. The rocks here were jagged, rough, but there was something else—something glinting faintly in the dim light. He crouched down, brushing aside the dirt to reveal a small, metallic object partially buried in the stone. It was crude, but unmistakably crafted—an old hunting knife, its blade chipped and rusted, but still sharp enough to serve a purpose.
Seamus wiped the dirt from the handle, testing the weight of the blade in his hand. It wasn’t much, but it was better than the stone club. He slipped it into the loop at his belt and glanced at the tunnel ahead. The path seemed to slope downward from here, disappearing into still denser shadow.
He hesitated for a moment, listening again to the stillness around him. Whatever else was waiting for him, it was surely down there. But there was no turning back.
With a final glance at the display hovering beside him, Seamus tightened his grip on the knife and moved forward, the darkness swallowing him whole.
The deeper Seamus went, the more the tunnel seemed to change. The walls that once had been jagged and rough were now smoothed into sweeping curves, as though shaped by something—or someone—long ago. Strange carvings began to appear, barely visible in the low light, their patterns too abstract to decipher. They wound along the walls in spirals and loops, sometimes disappearing into cracks, only to reemerge further along the path.
He ran his fingers over one of the carvings as he passed, the cool stone smooth beneath his touch. It didn’t feel natural—more like a remnant of something ancient, something forgotten. His mind flickered with thoughts of history, of civilizations buried beneath the surface, but none of it made sense. Where was he?
Seamus stopped for a moment to catch his breath, leaning against the wall. His body still ached, and the weight of the situation was starting to sink in. His clothes—rough, unfamiliar, uncomfortable—clung to him, reminding him of his exposedness.
The tunnel ahead seemed to expand into another large chamber, and Seamus hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to be cautious. The last encounter with the insect-thing had been too close for comfort. Whatever lived in this place wasn’t friendly, and he was far from prepared.
Still, standing here wasn’t a viable option either. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and stepped forward into the chamber.
It was larger than he expected, the ceiling arching high above, lost in shadow. The faint light from the glowing moss clung to the walls, casting strange, shifting patterns across the floor as though everything were underwater. Seamus scanned the room, every sense on edge, waiting for whatever was coming next.
The sound hit him before he saw it—a low, scraping noise, coarse metal dragging against unforgiving stone. He froze, gripping the knife he had found earlier, though it offered little comfort. The noise grew louder, more deliberate, ricocheting off the chamber’s walls. It was advancing on him.
Seamus’ eyes darted to the far end of the chamber, where the darkness seemed most densely packed. And then, out of that darkness, something moved.
At first, it was nothing more than a dark blur, indistinct and shifting. But as it drew closer, the form became clearer—something large, humanoid, but twisted. Its limbs far too long, its posture hunched, and its skin shimmering with an oily sheen in the dim light. A pair of sickly white eyes blinked at him from the darkness, and the scraping sound grew louder as it dragged something heavy across the floor—a enormous blade that looked like it was forged from the very stone that surrounded them.
Seamus’s breath caught in his throat. He took a step back, his mind racing. There was no way he could fight something like that. A bug was one thing but this... The knife in his hand suddenly felt woefully inadequate, little more than a piece of scrap metal in the face of this fearsome creature.
The figure lumbered ever forward, its movements slow but intentional. He didn’t think it had seen him yet, but it wouldn’t take long. Seamus glanced around the chamber, searching for anything he could use to his advantage—somewhere to hide, something to distract it with—but the room was empty, barren save for the loose rocks scattered across the floor.
The thing was dangerously close now. He needed to move.
He crouched low, staying close to the wall as he edged around the chamber. Every movement was painfully slow, his heart hammering in his chest, the monster’s rattled breathing heavy in his ears. It hadn’t noticed him yet, but the distance between them was shrinking. He could feel the weight of its presence bearing down on him, every instinct screaming for him to run, to get out.
But the tunnel on the far side was much too far, and he didn’t know how fast this thing could move if it came down to that.
Suddenly, the creature stopped. Its head jerked upward, eyes narrowing as it sniffed the air. Seamus froze, his breath caught in his throat. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, with a growl that shook the very walls, the creature swung its massive blade, slamming it into the ground where Seamus had been just moments before.
He dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the impact of the flying debris. The ground trembled beneath him, and a cloud of dust rose into the air as the blade carved a deep trench into the stone floor. Seamus scrambled to his feet, his mind racing. There was no way he could fight this thing—not head-on.
His eyes flicked to the pile of rocks near the edge of the chamber. It wasn’t much, but it might be enough. Without hesitating, he darted toward it, grabbing one of the larger rocks and hurling it with all his strength.
The rock hit the far wall with a loud crack, and the creature’s head snapped toward the sound, its eyes glowing more luminous as it turned away from Seamus. He didn’t wait to see what it would do next.
With a burst of speed, Seamus sprinted toward the opening, his feet barely making a sound on the stone floor. His heart pounded in his ears, energy coursing through his veins as he raced through the tunnel, chased by a furious roar echoing behind him.
He didn’t stop. Not until the tunnel narrowed again, the walls closing in, the creature’s frustrated cries fading into the distance. Only then did Seamus allow himself to slow, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
The UI blinked at the edge of his vision, a new message appearing, as if though mocking him.
“Quest updated: Evade the Guardian.”
Seamus leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. His hands were still shaking, the weight of what had just happened settling in. This place… it wasn’t just dangerous. It was alive. And it wanted him to fail.
But he wasn’t going to let it.
***
The tunnel had narrowed once more, and stone walls pressed close around him, leaving him with little space to move. His eyes darted around, scanning the area for any sign of movement, any hint that the creature might be trailing in his wake. But for now, the only sounds were the faint, ubiquitous dripping of water and his own ragged breathing.
He took a step forward, his foot catching on a loose stone. The small knife at his belt clinked softly against his side, a reminder of how under-equipped he was for this place. That thing had nearly cut him in half with one swing. And all he had was this crude knife.
Seamus swallowed, forcing himself to focus. He couldn’t afford to let fear get the better of him. There had to be a way to survive.
Evade the Guardian.
He grimaced. Easy enough to say.
His gaze shifted back to the tunnel ahead. The path continued to slope downward, deeper into the earth. The walls were damp, slick with condensation, and the air was cooler here. There was no telling how far this tunnel went or what might be waiting at the end of it.
After what felt like an eternity of walking, the tunnel began to open up again, revealing another chamber. This one was smaller than the last, but there was something different about it—something that made Seamus stop in his tracks.
He glanced around, his eyes falling on a small alcove carved into the stone wall. It was shallow, just large enough for someone to sit in, but it offered some protection from the open space of the chamber. Seamus moved toward it, his body screaming for rest. He had no idea what time it was, but exhaustion was starting to catch up with him.
His body ached, his mind was foggy, but sleep didn’t come easily. Every noise—the drip of water, the faint creak of stone, even the rustle of his own tunic—kept him on edge. Until, finally, he drifted off.