Chapter 2

...

Floor 1 – Day 1

[Global Chat: 19,109 Total Selected Currently Active]

[Round 41] - Started

[RunnerGunner – Floor 39:]

All new arrivals appearing with the start of the 41st Round, please note the following information. While we know you have questions, read the following immediately:

1) This is very real. It is not your mind playing tricks on you. Please know that if you are injured, those injuries will remain until you make it to the next floor or recover naturally. If you die, you will not “come back.” You will be dead.

2) If you manage to clear a floor, injuries and damage received while on the previous floor will be healed. You will also be rewarded by an increase in Attributes depending on your performance while clearing the floor.

3) Each Floor is progressively more difficult than the Floor preceding it. Floor 1 is the introduction Floor and has not been reported to have monsters. For this reason, it is recommended you spend as much time as you feel reasonably possible improving yourself here before advancing. As Floor layouts and content can vary considerably, providing specific advice is difficult beyond Floor 1. At a minimum, know that each Floor will provide you with a specific challenge that must be accomplished in order to clear it. Going above and beyond can provide additional rewards.

4) On the 20th Floor, you will be provided the option to return to Earth. If you choose to do this, you will be removed from the Trial with all weapons, status attributes, Skills, and Spells you have gained while within the Trial, intact. You will not be able to return.

5) Almost all Floors past Floor 1 will present the possibility of combat. For the sake of your survival, we strongly advise increasing your Attributes by any means possible. Finding a method to protect and defend yourself is needed. For example: Exercise and training are highly recommended for Strength. Gaining a Class is also advised, if possible. The conditions for these will vary, but know that the Trial rewards hard work.

6) Your ability to post in a Global or private Chat will only unlock after reaching the 10th “Communal” Floor. Any username chosen will be locked in place, so please don’t pick a stupid one like I did.

7) Above all: Do not panic. Understand that whatever limits you once had no longer exist. We will overcome this.

[RunnerGunner – Floor 39:]

Additional note:

As the highest ranked [Selected] I am allowed to post globally to all participants. The above statement was crafted for your benefit, and it is my utmost hope you will survive.

Still, it should be known: if you make it to the tenth floor or further, violence or harm to other Selected individuals on the Communal Floors will not be tolerated. The Trial System will mark you should such an event occur, and I (or others) will be certain to act swiftly upon recognizing it.

You have been warned.

I blinked, before I reread the message for a fifth time.

Everything in the floating screen was unchanged.

As was I, it seemed.

The inky darkness that went on forever was gone, and I was back in my room. Locked up tight in my boarded-up house, I sat in my chair. My single-story, slab-foundation, bullet-hole-ridden, bastion of defense, protecting me like it always had.

The same paintings hung on the walls. The same clothes sat in the laundry basket. The same books sat on the shelves... From where I sat, it was almost like nothing had happened. In fact, were it not for the floating text I could drag up in my mind’s eye on a whim, I might not even be able to tell the difference.

This is very real. It is not your mind playing tricks on you.

Slowly, I got up from my chair, moving towards the window. There wasn't much to see, here, but if I stood at the correct angle, I could peer outside. I just needed to stand perfectly-so, to look where there was a slight crack in the boards I had put up.

It was quiet, outside.

Too quiet.

All the noise I had grown accustomed to, wasn’t there. Which was abnormal, because there was always noise. The military units were always moving patrols, or receiving inventory. Supply runs were constant, helicopters and tanks were ever-present. And that wasn't counting the times that monsters were being fought. Night and day, it never mattered. Sometimes I had to wear ear-plugs just to catch a few hours of sleep.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

But now, there was nothing.

Outside my home, I could hear none of that. There were no gunshots, or rumbling vehicles, or shouts of soldiers. The military outpost and the associated activity never stopped, but as I listened, I recognized that I couldn’t hear a thing.

Leaning ever so carefully, to peek outside, the neighbor’s burned out house was no longer in view. Neither was the car that had gotten flattened by tank treads a few weeks prior. The street wasn't in sight, either. Instead, there was… Grass?

Tall grass, and lots of it. That was all I could see. Through the thin line of vision I could manage to see, my neighborhood was gone. Not a trace seemed to remain. The air creeping in from the window, felt warmer than I remembered. The cold of a light winter, was no more.

Stepping back from the window, the screen flickered back into view, and I reread the message again. Could I summon this with just a thought? I poked at it, letting it fade off, then appear again.

This wasn’t a mental break, was it?

This is very real.

I reread the text, and felt that was hardly reassuring.

Of course it would say that. Crazy people don't think they're crazy. That's half the reason people recognize them as being crazy in the first place. Still, I skimmed the text again, mentally shuffling the numbers. Based on what it said, every week, 1,000 people had been disappearing from Earth. Those 1,000 people were going to the Trial. If this was round 41, that meant something like 41,000 people in total...

Was I still on Earth?

The question distracted me.

Maybe?

Looking outside again, it was hard to be sure of where I was from the narrow view between the boards of wood. If I wasn't on Earth, at best I could assume I’d been plucked from Earth, and taken somewhere. I had no idea where that was, or what might actually be outside. But all I had to go on was floating words and a half-remembered internet post.

The internet post seemed to encourage the outlandish line of thinking that this wasn't Earth. I wasn't quite certain if I was ready to embrace that, yet.

In a weird way though, it was almost a relief. It had been a very long time since I’d had quiet. A very long time, since I hadn't been smothered by the bustle of military units, or gunfire, or monster attacks. Those things had kept me on edge for a long time. Each one could have been a signal for my last moments, if collateral damage spilled closer to my humble abode. Weeks and months, as the world got worse, and worse, and worse...

Slowly, quietly, I opened the door and peeked outside my room. The house waited, just as it always did, and I was relieved to find everything was exactly as I had left it. My jacket was hanging on the hook, my small kitchen was still relatively stocked. The silly crap that decorated my walls all still hung crooked. None of the lights were on, so it was dark, but the glow of the battery powered digital clock on the wall combined with the faint glow of sunlight through the boarded windows was comforting.

Normal, I decided.

Softly stepping out, I approached the kitchen and opened my fridge, taking stock. The still not quite as warm air settled on my skin, as I quickly closed the door again, confirming the same for the freezer. No electricity was running to power it, but that was nothing new. At least it was insulated, and everything inside was still where I’d left it.

Carefully, I crept towards my front door, eyeing out the peephole. I'd been more careful with how this was boarded up, and I could see a much wider field of view.

More grassland, I confirmed. That meant I was in the middle of a field, maybe? Minding my steps, I made my way back to the bedroom, shuffling through pages of a notebook I’d kept by the desk. Had I written about anything close to this? Idle thoughts, lumped in with random notes. Part diary, part information-collection.

I kept flipping until I finally found what I’d been looking for:

The briefly summarized notes I’d taken in regards to the message user NOTDEADYET23 had posted...

... Combined with my raving thoughts.

I grimaced.

Man… it was a mess. Objectively speaking, just my handwriting alone looked the scribblings of a madman. Yet, I’d clearly run with the idea, spinning additional thoughts out onto the paper all the same. Fueled by intense anxiety, boredom, and probably hunger. I’d been strictly rationing my food, especially after the military ration stations closed shop.

But my notes were legible. So, I had that going for me. Regardless of how crazy they sounded out of context, re-reading them, I felt that they were somewhat insightful.

I walked with the notebook, looking back out the view by my front door. It did all match up... From the post online, I had noted that the “Selected” individuals were probably being pulled at random. The user had said as much, indicating that there appeared to be an age cut-off at roughly 18 years old and up. So, no children were pulled into the [Trial]. It was only those who were "adults." At least, in a loose sense. That was the only restriction.

I tried to decipher my own handwriting, letting out a frustrated sigh. I hadn't been in a good place when I was scribbling these, that was clear. I must have spilled water or something on them, too. Which meant that something must have been happening outside the house. Thankfully, even with smudges present, I could make out most of what was written.

The user had said those selected for the [Trial] didn’t seem to be filtered by anything but age. It didn’t care if someone was elderly and bed-ridden, or if they required medical assistance. It didn’t even seem to care if a person was disabled, mentally or physically. If someone was a single mother trying to take care of their kids, for example… Well, too bad. If someone was missing a leg, or stuck in the hospital, that wouldn't make a difference. The system chose them at random, regardless of their condition.

Which, I suppose, was my dilemma.

I pulled up the message again, confirming the first line. No matter what I did, I couldn’t respond, but I could select it, pulling the line into its own view.

[Global Chat: 19,109 Total Selected Currently Active]

19,109.

I mentally ran the numbers again.

After 41 weeks, with 1,000 people coming into the Trail a week, but only 19,109 people still “active.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Roughly 21,000 people who weren’t “active.” Unless there were a huge number of people who had returned to Earth, that number could pretty much only mean one thing.

Stepping back from the door, I let myself crouch down, taking a few deep breaths before turning back to eye my non-functioning refrigerator. It did little to calm me down, but I did my best to keep the rising panic at bay.

Things were good.

This was fine. Everything was fine.

I’d known enough to choose [Domicile] as my starting perk, and that was the best possible starting move, if this really was happening and I wasn't having some very long and convincing mental-break. Letting the screen fall away, only to summon it right back, I was pretty sure it was real. That everything around me, was real. I pinched myself, looked back outside.

Everything was exactly as it had been. Grassland was outside.

"This is real." I whispered to myself, taking more deep breaths.

This was the best I could have hoped for. I ran back through what I knew, what I thought I knew, and what I was taking some educated guesses on, and I felt sure this could have been worse. I really could have easily panicked, and then blindly picked something else. Any of the other perks would have left me in a much, much worse situation.

But still.

I seriously doubted the “Trial” would be providing me with insulin.

And that was not good.