As Marshmallow pondered the taste of giant, mutated cockroaches, he drew his knife and gripped it tightly, his only reliable ally at that moment. In his other hand, the lantern continued to illuminate the area. The Evolveroaches were everywhere, swirling shadows throughout the tunnel. If he didn't act, Marshmallow knew it wouldn't be them who ended up as his dinner, but rather the other way around.

Undeterred, he sprang forward as an Evolveroach charged at him. One glance was enough to tell him that these repulsive creatures were more aggressive than the ones he'd encountered in the Temple of Ezechiel. Marshmallow ducked and countered, slicing through the creature's armor with his blade. It let out a shrill scream. One by one, the others rushed at him and met the same fate.

CIAF!

CIAF!

CIAF!

It was as if each attack was a signal to the other cockroaches. How could he fight so many Evolveroach with just one knife? Simple, he had to be faster than them, and he had to anticipate their every move.

Marshmallow wielded the knife as if it were an extension of his arm, measuring each movement and executing every strike with surgical precision. Hungry and tired, he knew he couldn't afford to stop. He was surrounded by a multitude of disgusting beings, eagerly wanting to make a meal out of his virtual carcass. The advance of the repulsive creatures seemed endless. Ignoring every survival instinct, they hurled themselves at him with their ravenous mouths. Marshmallow, spinning and striking, realized this situation couldn’t last forever.

“How many are there!” he shouted. Marshmallow felt the pressure from these beings from every direction as if they were assaulting him from all sides simultaneously. It was a tunnel full of fissures. One, two, or three Evolveroaches weren't dangerous, but what if he was surrounded? He needed an escape route to catch his breath. But where? This was a tunnel with no way out.

10 Lesser Evolveroaches Killed!

+ 2 Exp

"Ah yes, the Exp. A goat, a zombie goat, 11 Lesser Evolveroaches. 7.2 total Exp, far from leveling up," he said to himself, searching for a way to escape the repulsive creatures. He could have checked the stats mechanically, but for now, the calculation was simple, no need for that.

In any case, having his nailed board with him would have undoubtedly made things easier. Suddenly, an Evolveroach, attacking from the side, hit him, making him lose his balance. Marshmallow fell to the ground and rolled near a hidden opening on the floor. Without overthinking, he crawled in, hoping it was his escape route.

He didn't know how, but the Evolveroaches had stopped chasing him. What had happened? It was all very strange. He raised his arms and continued. Maybe, for some odd reason, this was an off-limits area for the Evolveroaches.

Inside, the external chaos was replaced by deep quietude. Everything was shrouded in darkness and absolute calm. Marshmallow finally had a moment to breathe. He was no longer on the main path, so the lantern barely lit the environment with its feeble light.

"I must be far from the flow," he murmured. However, the light was enough to reveal the vague contours of the surrounding walls. The silence was only broken by his panting breath.

In the darkness of the shelter, Marshmallow tried to figure out where he had ended up. "What place is this?" he whispered while putting his folding knife back in his pocket and feeling the walls with his hands. The ground beneath him was hard and cold, different from the damp soil of the Shining Tree's underground.

He moved slowly and with extreme caution. Every step was an incursion into the dark, and his eyes began to slowly adjust to the darkness of the shelter. He saw that the tunnel ended in a small cavern, opening up before him into a larger space than he had initially perceived. But something was off. It didn't seem natural, almost as if someone had artificially made it. "Who would ever build a hiding place here?" Marshmallow said while scanning the room. Then he saw, in a corner, a pile of items that seemed to be deliberately left there.

I can't believe it. Food!

Finally, Marshmallow got lucky. All he had done since entering the game of Survivor was run, explore, and fight. In front of him was a small altar with well-arranged aged cheese, some apples that still looked crisp, and a portion of smoked meat. The water seemed to be in a two-liter sealed glass bottle.

In the center of the altar, however, was a far more intriguing item, carefully placed. An object the size of a fist, glowing faintly at regular intervals with a deep purple hue. There was something magnetic about it, and Marshmallow stared at it for a moment, wondering what it could be. Then he cautiously approached the pile and looked around. It had to be a trap, right?

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"Nobody leaves stuff like this around without a reason," he said. He searched for signs of traps or dangers while his mind remained alert. Approaching the pile of supplies cautiously, Marshmallow observed every detail, looking for confirmation of the safety of what lay before him. He noticed a small inscription, hidden just behind the shimmering object, but perfectly legible.

For the famished stranger,

These gifts are a sincere gesture. No traps, no deceit. Accept my hospitality as a beacon of hope in this grim world.

With kindness,

The Hidden Keeper

Marshmallow approached the pile of food. The lantern in his hand lit the way, and a sense of wonder filled the air. The light seemed to come alive, dancing magically. As Marshmallow directed the lantern towards the pile, it tilted slightly as if it had its own will, a luminous guide pointing the way.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by this connection between the lantern and the food.

"Well, it seems you agree," he confirmed to the lantern with a smile. It was as if the lantern approved his choice to eat. He approached the pile of food with renewed confidence, inspired by the guiding light of his lantern.

Every bite rejuvenated him further, a step closer to survival. He hadn’t eaten for who knows how many hours, and he certainly hadn’t been idle in the meantime.

Then, while realizing how good the food was even in this world, his attention was captured again by the shimmering object. It looked like an artifact, something ancient and powerful. As he voraciously chewed, he picked it up, feeling a shiver down his spine. "What are you?" he thought, examining it under the dim light.

The artifact in Marshmallow's hand was cold and smooth, with unfamiliar engraved symbols. It was small but heavier than it looked. Its light was faint, yet pulsating as if it had its heartbeat.

Where does it come from? What can it do?

He looked closer at the symbols. They seemed ancient, perhaps magical. He could feel a subtle but powerful energy flowing from it. "Carrying this thing might be a huge advantage. Or maybe not?"

He remembered stories about cursed artifacts that offered great powers at a terrible price. "What if it brings bad luck? Or worse, harms me in some way?" Doubts plagued him, but the temptation was strong.

He tried to bring it closer to the lantern. While it seemed attracted to the food, it didn’t seem to acknowledge the artifact at all.

"Bad sign," he muttered while eating and drinking. Marshmallow reflected on the possible consequences. The artifact could give him a crucial edge in the Survivor Game, but was he ready to take the risk? Could it harm his allies? Or himself?

The dilemma consumed him. He had to make a choice, and each option had its unknowns. "Use it or leave it here?" he wondered. The decision wasn't easy. The artifact could be the key to his survival, or his biggest mistake.

Or maybe nothing at all. Who could know?

Marshmallow sat in the dark with the artifact still in his hand. The light it emitted broke the darkness of the shelter, and his thoughts were tumultuous. "What should I do with you?" he asked in a low voice.

He remembered home, his family. His disabled mother and his siblings depended on him. All the choices he had made, good or bad, were always for them. "But is it right to risk so much for a bit more power?" he wondered.

He thought about the war, the conflict that had devastated his life and many others. The Survivor Game was a reflection of that brutality, a world where survival was everything. Yet, he had always tried to remain true to his principles. "What would the real Marshmallow, the soldier on the front lines, do? What would Dad do?" he wondered.

Memories of the past enveloped him. Happy moments with his family, tough days on the streets of a war-torn city, the desperation of nights spent trying to find a way forward. Each memory was a piece of the puzzle that was his life.

With the artifact in hand, Marshmallow understood that his decision wasn't just about him. It was about everyone he had met in the game, No Damage, SonicEcho… even that piece of shit host. Everyone he had left at home, and all the lives his journey had touched so far.

I can't let fear decide for me.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them, his decision was made. He knew what he had to do. It was a choice that defined who he was, not just as a player, but as a person.

With the decision made, Marshmallow got up. The artifact was still in his hand, its pulsating light a constant reminder of the weight of his choice. He decided to take it with him.

"You will not be my downfall, nor my savior," he said softly to the artifact. "You will be a tool, nothing more." It was a promise to himself as much as to the object he held.

Feeling tired and enveloped by the makeshift safety of the cave, Marshmallow decided it was time to take a break and succumb to sleep. He collapsed in the flattest corner of the ground, feeling the cold surface against his back.

With a yawn, he curled up against the stone wall, trying to find a comfortable position. The artifact, still clutched in his hand, glowed faintly in the twilight of the cave. Marshmallow contemplated the object for a moment before closing his eyes, letting sleep take over.

The moment Marshmallow surrendered to the world of dreams, the pulsating light of supernatural purple, which until then had fought the shadows of the cave, began to weaken, as if slowly being swallowed by darkness.

In that growing abyss, an indistinct figure began to take shape, materializing from the artifact. A presence wound its way through the cave, moving with eerie agility and swaying toward the Lamp of Flow. That something, indefinable and dark, emitted an aura of danger, a cold omen moving among the shadows. As it advanced, every fragment of light seemed to retreat, as if afraid to be touched by such darkness.

As soon as the creature brushed against the Lantern of Flow, the artifact lost all traces of light. The creature merged with the weak light. And then, as if it had been just a hallucination, it disappeared without a trace.