With all the shit I had to go through to make it to the gym, I should've been happy that I actually made it. But I wasn't, not when I laid eyes on Principal Vernon.

The gymnasium was a macabre parody of a high school sports arena. The polished wooden floor was warped and splintered, pulsing with an unhealthy, reddish glow as if alive. Twisted metal bleachers lined the walls, filled with shadowy figures that whispered and chittered. The basketball hoops were bent into cruel, hook-like shapes, nets dripping with what looked unsettlingly like blood.

But it was Principal Vernon who dominated the scene, a monstrous transformation of the stern educator I remembered. He towered at least fifteen feet tall, his body a grotesque fusion of man and office furniture. His lower half was a mass of filing cabinet drawers, papers constantly shuffling and reorganizing themselves. His torso was a bulky desk, various office supplies protruding like weapons—stapler fingers, ruler ribs, and a chest cavity that looked like it could swallow a student whole.

Vernon's head was still recognizably human, but bloated and pale, his eyes sunken pools of inky blackness. When he spoke, his mouth opened far too wide, revealing row upon row of pencil-sharp teeth.

Principal Richard “Dick” Vernon (The Bureaucratic Behemoth)

Level: 15

Vernon, once a mere high school principal, has been warped by the infernal energies of Infernum into a nightmarish fusion of man and office supplies. His new form represents the ultimate incarnation of soul-crushing bureaucracy and arbitrary authority.

"Well, well, well," Vernon's voice boomed, echoing off the walls. "Looks like someone's late for class." His eyes narrowed, focusing on me with predatory intensity. "You know what that means, don't you, Mr. Wise Guy?"

I tried to swallow, but my mouth had gone dry. This was way beyond any detention I'd ever faced before. "Uh, a strongly worded note to my parents?"

Vernon's laughter was like the sound of a thousand detention slips being torn in half. "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" He raised an arm—a long, sinuous thing made of intertwined power cords and computer cables—brandishing a giant red pen like a sword. "No, I'm afraid it's much worse than that. Detention," he hissed, his grin widening impossibly. "Permanent detention."

Vernon's giant red pen slashed through the air, and I barely managed to dive out of the way. The tip gouged a deep groove in the gym floor, sizzling with acidic ink. The acrid smell of burning wood filled my nostrils.

"Too slow!" I taunted, trying to mask my fear with bravado. Fake it 'til you make it, right? "I thought principals were supposed to be quick with the paperwork!"

Vernon's face contorted with rage, his pale skin flushing an angry red. "I'll teach you respect, you little delinquent!"

He lunged forward, his file cabinet legs clanking ominously. I rolled to the side, feeling the rush of air as his stapler fingers snapped shut inches from my face. The sound was like a gunshot in the cavernous gym.

Scrambling to my feet, I dashed toward the twisted basketball hoop. Vernon followed, his bulk surprisingly agile for something made mostly of office furniture. The floor creaked and groaned under his weight, and I could swear I felt the vibrations through my sneakers.

I grabbed a basketball from a nearby rack, its surface pulsing unnaturally. It felt warm and slick in my hands, almost like it was alive. "Hey, Vernon! Catch!"

I hurled the ball at his face with all my might. To my shock and horror, Vernon's mouth opened impossibly wide, unhinging like a snake's jaw. He swallowed the ball whole, his throat bulging as it went down. He burped, a puff of paper confetti floating out.

"Is that the best you've got?" he sneered, shaking his head. A few stray bits of confetti drifted from his nostrils. "Students these days. No respect, no creativity."

Clearly, conventional tactics weren't going to cut it. I needed to think outside the box. But what the hell could I do against a monster like this?

Vernon's next attack came swift and brutal. His arm, now a whip-like extension cord, lashed out. I tried to dodge, but I was a fraction too slow. The cord caught me across the chest, and pain exploded through me as I was flung against the bleachers.

I groaned, struggling to my feet. My ribs screamed in protest, and I tasted blood in my mouth. A quick glance at my Health Bar showed it had taken a significant hit.

Jesus, this guy is strong.

"Give up yet?" Vernon taunted, advancing slowly. His file cabinet legs opened and closed rhythmically, like a shark's jaws anticipating a meal. "Ready to accept your punishment?"

I spat a mouthful of blood onto the gym floor. "Go to hell," I growled, then realized the irony of my statement. "Or... wherever's worse than here."

Vernon's laughter boomed through the gym, making the twisted basketball hoops quiver. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy breaking you. Just like all the other troublemakers who thought they could outsmart the system."

As I dodged another swipe of his pen-sword, my mind raced. There was no way I could take this monstrosity on in a straight fight and win. He was too damn strong and a much higher level than me to be punching into oblivion. His Health Bar had hardly gone down since this 'fight' began. But mine sure as shit had.

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There had to be a weakness, some flaw in his monstrous form I could exploit. This was a game, right? Bosses always have a weakness. But what could hurt a creature made of office supplies and bureaucratic nightmares?

I feinted left, then darted right, narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws of his desk-torso. As I ran, I noticed something—small sparks flying from the power cords that made up part of his body.

An idea began to form. Crazy, probably suicidal, but it was all I had.

"Hey, Vernon!" I shouted, making a break for the far end of the gym. "Your filing system sucks! I bet you can't even alphabetize properly!"

The principal roared in fury, his face contorting into a mask of rage. "How dare you! My system is perfect! Flawless!"

He charged after me, his bulk moving with surprising speed. The floor shook with each step, and I could hear the screech of metal on wood. Perfect.

I reached the wall, where a fire hose was coiled in its case. With trembling hands, I smashed the glass and yanked out the hose. The coarse material bit into my palms, but I hardly noticed the pain.

Vernon was almost upon me, his maw gaping wide to swallow me whole. At the last second, I ducked and rolled between his legs, unspooling the hose as I went. The smell of musty paper and ozone filled my nostrils as I passed under him.

"Hold still, you little—" Vernon's bellow was cut short as he tripped, the hose tangling in his file cabinet legs. He crashed to the ground with an almighty clang of metal and wood. Papers flew everywhere, a blizzard of forms and reports.

Not wasting a second, I sprinted to the other side of the gym, where I'd spotted a large metal filing cabinet earlier. I prayed it wasn't just for show in this twisted realm.

Vernon was already starting to right himself, roaring in frustration. "When I get my hands on you—"

I reached the filing cabinet and yanked it open. Thank whatever dark gods ruled this place—it was full of actual files. I grabbed as many as I could, my arms straining under the weight.

"Hey, paper-pusher!" I yelled, my voice cracking slightly with fear and exertion. "Looks like your precious files are out of order!"

Vernon's head snapped toward me, his eyes widening in horror as he saw the armful of documents. "No! You little shit! You're messing up my perfect system!"

I started throwing the files into the air, pages fluttering everywhere like demented confetti. Vernon howled in distress, a sound that was equal parts rage and anguish. His arms flailed as he tried to catch every sheet, his movements becoming more frantic and uncoordinated.

"Stop that this instant!" he shrieked, his voice rising to a panicked pitch. "Those are alphabetized! Color-coded! Cross-referenced!"

But I didn't stop. I kept throwing, creating a blizzard of paperwork. Vernon was so distracted, so focused on saving his precious files, that he didn't notice me edging toward the wall.

There, next to a grotesque motivational poster (which read "HANG IN THERE" above a picture of a cat dangling by its intestines), was what I'd been looking for—the gym's circuit breaker.

Vernon was now on his knees, frantically trying to gather the scattered papers, muttering about proper filing procedures and the importance of maintaining order. His power cord arms were stretched to their limit, touching the puddles left by the fire hose.

It was now or never.

I reached for the circuit breaker, then hesitated. This was going to hurt. But it was better than whatever "permanent detention" Vernon had in mind.

"Hey, Vernon!" I shouted one last time. The monstrous principal looked up, his eyes narrowing as he saw where I was standing. For a moment, I saw a flicker of fear in those inky depths.

"Class dismissed," I said, and flipped the switch.

Electricity surged through the gym. I felt a jolt of pain as some of the current passed through me, my muscles seizing up. My Health Bar took another deep hit, flashing dangerous red. But it was nothing compared to what happened to Vernon.

The principal's body lit up like a macabre Christmas tree. Sparks flew from every joint, every cable. His file cabinet legs burst open, shooting papers everywhere. His stapler fingers snapped wildly, and his pen-sword melted into a puddle of ink and plastic.

Vernon's scream was like nothing I'd ever heard before—the sound of a thousand detentions being erased, of countless disciplinary reports going up in smoke. The windows of the gym shattered, raining glass onto the twisted bleachers.

And then, with a final, earthshaking boom, the monstrous principal exploded in a shower of paper, ink, and office supplies. The force of the blast knocked me off my feet, and I skidded across the floor, coming to rest against the far wall.

For a moment, all was silent. Then, slowly, the last staplers clattered to the ground, and the final papers fluttered through the air. Where Vernon had stood was nothing but a scorched outline on the floor and a slowly dissipating cloud of toner ink.

I slumped against the wall, every part of me aching. My Health Bar was dangerously low, and I could feel bruises forming on top of bruises. But as I surveyed the carnage of the gym, I allowed myself a small, pained smile.

"Guess I passed the final exam after all," I muttered, my voice hoarse.

As if in response, a loud buzzer sounded, echoing through the now-silent gym. A glowing portal appeared where Vernon had fallen, pulsing with an otherworldly light. It looked like a tear in reality, edges shimmering with an array of impossible colors.

On my screen, a flashing message appeared:

WINNER!

CONGRATULATIONS! YOU PASSED YOUR FIRST TRIAL!

Despite the pain I was in, I felt a surge of pride go through me. I was no stranger to the taste of victory—I'd won my share of fights and sports games back in the real world. But this felt different. Bigger. I'd proved myself, proved that I could survive in this nightmare realm, at least for now.

On my screen, I watched my XP go up by a significant amount. Notifications followed, informing me I was now Level 4. It didn't seem like a big jump considering all I'd been through in the Trial, but I'd take it. On top of that, my strength had increased a fair bit, and I'd leveled up various skills. Plus, I had also earned a number of chests, which I would open later.

As I hobbled across the gym floor toward the portal, my thoughts turned to Annalise and Snuggles. Had they passed their Trials as well? Were they okay? The idea of either of them facing something like what I'd just been through...it made my stomach churn.

I paused at the edge of the portal, its light washing over me in warm waves. This was just the beginning, I realized. The Trials would become progressively harder as they went along, which meant I would have to work hard to level up and get strong.

Otherwise, I wouldn't stand a chance. And in this world, failure meant more than just a game over screen. It meant death—or worse.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the portal. Whatever came next, I'd face it head-on. After all, I'd just taken down a monstrous principal. How much worse could it get?

As the light engulfed me, I realized I probably shouldn't have tempted fate with that last thought. In Infernum, I was learning, things could always get worse.

The portal closed behind me with a sound like tearing paper, leaving the gym silent and empty—save for the soft flutter of settling documents and the faint, lingering scent of ozone and despair.