Close a single eye and try to look through it. What do you see?

Whatever it is, it isn’t black.

Out of the closed eye one sees nothing. Not pure darkness. But nothing.

And now I was in that incomprehensible nothing— the void itself.

I couldn’t move my body— if it existed at all.

I heard nothing and felt nothing. What I heard wasn’t the absence of sound— but nothing. What I felt wasn’t the absence of sensation— but nothing. It was a description that no amount of words could convey.

And then almost like being propelled on a violent rollercoaster, my entire being jerked forward, and with it came vision and my senses.

I saw darkness and landed on hard stone with such force that I felt a jolt in my bones. I strained to open my eyes amidst the scratching dust in my eyes. When my eyes became accustomed to the darkness, I saw it.

A statue.

An enormously tall statue.

It was so tall, I could only see the base, its legs and a massive anvil— anything higher than that being completely obscured by black shadow. My confusion only grew at the bizarre scenery around me.

I seemed to be in a massive room. It was so unimaginably large, I could barely make out the pillars at the edge of the room…

Pillars?

Wait. How could I make out anything at all? There was no light source, yet everything below a certain height was uniformly lit. As if the floor itself was a giant source of dim light.

All the stone was a deep blue and gave the impression of being in a cold tomb.

I drew in a deep breath and it was then I realized that I was still alive. But if I was still alive…

A panic gripped me and I whipped my head around, staring into the darkness with the utmost concentration. My heart thrashed in my chest and I slowly backed up to the base of the statue.

The slow crunch of my shoes on the broken and chipped stone echoed throughout the enormous room and gave me the unsettling feeling of someone whispering behind me.

I pat my pockets, searching for the knife— but they were empty. My heart beat was slick with horror as I realized I dropped it beyond the gate.

And then I heard the squirming.

The squelching.

Those slippery, disgusting sounds that filled me with hate and revulsion.

The cold stone of the statue’s base touched my back.

The squelching grew louder.

My eyes darted around everywhere. The floor, the ceiling I couldn’t see, the darkness around me and the grooves in the base of the statue.

The base was as tall as me.

But I jumped and grabbed onto it— aiming to climb onto it and into safety. It was amazing, the things that the human body could do when pushed to the brink.

Hell, I didn’t even know I could run the equivalent of a 100 yard dash twice and still have some energy left. But not enough to pull myself up. Slowly, I lowered myself back to the ground and turned back to face the tentacled creature.

Was there nothing I could do but shiver in despair?

But I never felt an ounce of hopelessness.

To my surprise, I felt that spark inside me from before flare up. It was to an extent that I’d never felt this deeply.

Anger.

Instead of despair and hopelessness, I only felt anger: A deep, seething rage that slowly pumped through my blood with each beat of my heart. I felt this anger creep into my eyes and make my fists tingle.

Even heartbroken I didn’t feel this much anger. Even when my best friend betrayed me I didn’t feel an ounce of this anger.

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I wanted to bash its skull in so bad but I had nothing on me to do so. I was so full of anger that I wanted to mutilate it even long after I’d killed it. Even though a small, rational part of my mind chirped at me incessantly.

‘You’d never gone to a single martial arts class. You’d never thrown a punch before and you want to kill that thing with your bare hands?

Be fucking realistic. You’re going to die in this shithole with your family and friends having no idea where you went.’

But instead of my anger getting stifled out by reality, it only grew. I felt like I could do anything I wanted to.

My hands tingled and my legs felt alive.

And as the tentacled creature looked as if it were going to lunge at me, I dashed towards it in a frenzy. I had no idea what I was aiming to achieve by doing this. Maybe the madness must have gone to my head.

It definitely did. Because the next moment, I had all the air knocked out of me as I landed hard on my back, with the creature above me.

Both my arms were pinned down by its unnaturally strong grip and as much as I struggled or believed the ‘rage inside me’ would help me overcome all odds.

It didn’t.

The thing opened its maw and I saw a large tentacle slowly emerge out of it where its tongue should’ve been.

I gazed at it in horror. I can’t die like this. I wanted to die peacefully on a bed, surrounded by my loved ones. Not like this, to some tentacle monster. Fuck.

No. There must be something— anything— I could do to turn the tables. My eyes darted around the creature.

Its ashen, eyeless face. Its bony but unnaturally strong arms. The slimy tentacle sprouting from its mouth. And—

What was that?

There was a dull orange crystal embedded in its chest.

Vague images of ideas and theories took shape in my head.

And just as I felt my mouth forced open by the tentacle, I took all the strength in my knee and drove it upwards and into the dull crystal.

Immediately the weight flew off me. The creature wailed and rolled over to the side— grasping the crystal.

Without even a single pause, I sat on its body and pummeled the crystal with my bare fists. The creature wailed and even attempted to grab me with its arms, but it simply couldn’t reach me.

I felt the lethally cold pressure restraining my neck— a tentacle.

But even as my head was starting to feel dizzy, I continued driving my fists towards it.

The orange crystal soon became blood red and I couldn’t feel anything in my hands anymore. My eyes darted around until I found a small jagged pebble the size of my little finger. Without even a thought, I grabbed it and continued to slam the pebble into the crystal.

My consciousness was starting to fade.

The curtain was slowly being lowered on my vision. I almost forgot what to do. But I kept concentrating on repeating the motion of my arms. Swinging up and slamming down. Swinging up and slamming down. Swinging up and slamming down.

And then the curtains lowered.

And I faded away to the blackness.

----------------------------------------

I was alive.

Made painfully obvious by the scorching feeling in my throat.

When was the last time I drank water?

Fuck.

Did I kill that thing?

Groggily I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw made me close them again. I saw a cold, unmoving corpse, and I sighed in relief— which wasn’t a relief at all because the sigh felt like needles in my throat.

Water.

I need water…

I stumbled onto my feet and lazily looked around. In this enormous room, where the hell was I supposed to find water? Let alone leave this place and go home?

I threw a glance at the tentacled corpse and smirked. And then with all the strength I could muster— which wasn’t a lot— I kicked it. Again and again.

I stomped on its skull so many times with my feeble kicks that it cracked and then shattered into three pieces. Then I individually stomped and ground those three pieces to dust.

And then I stomped the rest of the corpse.

I’m alive…A laugh escaped my pained throat and I bent over— wracked with painful coughs.

But I won… The pain of living was incomparable to the sweet victory I’d earned.

Despite the pain wracking my body. Despite my bloody and broken knuckles. Despite the absolute exhaustion and despite the burning pain in my throat—

A joy I’d never tasted flowed through my veins and I shivered in delight. The joy was so intense I couldn’t compare it to a single activity or experience I’d had before— except for one time.

When I was 12 years old, my parents had made me go to Karate class— a class where they’d expected me to do 50 pushups with my scrawny body. Naturally, I couldn’t even do a single one, so I’d simply stay in position and shake a little bit. And that would count as one pushup.

A class where regular sparring sessions filled me with dread, because I’d lose in the most embarrassing way possible each time.

But there was a single time I’d won.

A single time that I’d beat someone.

And that single moment filled me with so much joy that everything else paled in comparison.

And now, at this very moment, I had my second moment.

I really felt as if I could die peacefully at this moment.

But fate must have had other plans for me. Because it showed up as a translucent blue panel in the centre of my vision:

[The Architect is amused by your victory]

[The Architect wishes to grant you a reward]