《Layers Of The Void》 A Cozy Room Swallowed by the abyss. Sunk to the depths. I¡¯d never imagined I¡¯d describe my sleep like this. Dark and dreamless. Time was irrelevant. It could not be counted. Even if I could count. Unnerving. There was a sense of loss. Uneasiness. I couldn¡¯t find the source. It was bottomless. Everywhere, knocking, echoing. Like a colossal shark lurking, about to devour you. But you can¡¯t see. You can¡¯t move. I hate it. I hate every moment, every insufferable second. I scream without sound. Just let it end. Get me out of this deadness! WAKE THE FUCK UP Y¡­ My eyes open. An unfamiliar ceiling greeted me. The hardness of the floor pressed against my back. It¡¯s finally gone, the dread. No. It¡¯s there. Faint and far away, but I feel it. Like a shark waiting for me to jump into the ocean again. What the hell was that? Did I drink too much last night, that I passed out on the floor wasted? No. That shouldn¡¯t be possible; I rarely drink, even during my favorite festival, S¡­Song¡­ What is my favorite festival? Why can¡¯t I remember it? I was there. With my friends. My friends! Why can¡¯t I remember their faces? It wasn¡¯t even a blur. There was nothing to imagine. Nothing to grasp onto. Nothing at all. I tried to recall. Anything. Anything I could think of. Any place and people. Any memory I am supposed to hold close like a priceless treasure. There was none! I can¡¯t remember them. Not even my family and my name. There it was again, the unpleasant feeling. Deep inside, sharp, and clear. I wanted to ignore it. I loathed it. It was there. A disgusting disease. I swore. Damn. Fucking Damn. What did I just hear? That didn¡¯t sound like me. At least, I think so. This voice was deep and gruff. Little guttural. What did I sound like? I had no reference to compare. If my voice had changed, what else has? My body? Keenly aware of my prone form, I leaned up and looked down; I was naked. Well. Nudity was the least concerning thing about this whole moment. My skin was unfamiliar. Grey, hard, and covered in plates or scales. Except for the area around my front half, less pronounced scales. Whiter, with a hint of grey. This wasn¡¯t me, not even close. Alright, at least I¡¯m still me, mentally. Although I can¡¯t remember anything, there must be something left. After all, I have words to think of. To speak. It won¡¯t help me get them back, at least, not right now. But it might be a key to the lock, eventually. For now, let''s do things I could do. I take in my surroundings; maybe there¡¯s a mirror nearby? No. Unfortunate. What else is around this¡­room? I found myself half-sat up near the back wall of a strange room, a little smaller than my bedroom. My bedroom? I don¡¯t remember it at all. The hardwood floor was clean, smooth against my scales. I felt something else. Warmth. To my left. A fireplace etched into a stone wall. Well-made. With brick and polished stone. Strange; no firewood lay beneath the flickering flame, only a silver dish the size of my palm. My palm. Odd. Clawed fingers. Pretty sure I didn¡¯t have those before. My feet? Clawed too. Strangest of all; I can see my face. Elongated to a snout. Like some kind of reptile or lizard. Reptile? lizard? What are those? The words popped into my head out of nowhere. Just past my snout, I saw a round table, one-legged, with a small wooden base. To the right, an armchair made of pristine leather. The arrangement felt familiar. A scrap of paper sat, centered, on the table, scribbled with words I can read. From this far? I could spell it out word for word. I don¡¯t think I could do that before. I stepped forward, and something pulled at my back. I glanced over my shoulder. A tail. Covered in gray scales. It flicked as I walked. Later. The scrap had more of my attention. Maybe I can learn more about my situation. Reaching forward, I grabbed, struggling to grasp it, my claws in the way. Finally. Clutching it in one hand, I flopped onto the chair. Comfortable, as expected. I¡¯d always enjoyed sitting on a soft chair or sofa. Something was missing though. This scrap wasn¡¯t enough; there should be something more. Something larger. Not that I felt truly relaxed, the uneasiness, the dread was still there. Pushing it to the back of my mind, I started reading. It was written in a familiar language. What was it? Whatever. Welcome to the Room of Realities [Vault] Your objective is to clear the Final room. Accumulate achievements. Tallied, your final score will determine your rewards. Any activities in this [Vault] can result in achievements. Possibilities lie ahead of you behind the door. Best of luck, Visitor. Crossing my legs, reading, I found myself uncomfortable; my odd legs and feet didn¡¯t sit right on each other. It doesn¡¯t look right. Feel right. I stopped. I hope to get used to it soon. These lines. These words. What they say shouldn¡¯t be possible. A part of me felt that way. But a larger part; excitement filled the rest, bubbling out. I wholeheartedly accepted these new feelings. Even though these words didn¡¯t make much sense, they felt familiar. Score, achievements, and rewards. These words. It made me think. A link to another word. ¡®Game¡¯ I¡¯d enjoy a game. That feeling sprung up. Crystal-clear. Like text from a game, the writing didn¡¯t look hand-written. Each letter was consistent. Latched into the paper like it won¡¯t ever be erased. Then, a thought occurred to me. I pinched at the top of the paper and slowly started to tear it apart, though it didn¡¯t rip, not an inch. Even as I used more and more force the paper was perfectly fine. Not paper, steel leaf more like. Now that¡¯s interesting. Putting the paper down on the table, I squinted; fireplace, wooden table, leather armchair. Nothing else. Just a door to my right. I stood up and approached the door. Wood darker than the floor. A brass doorknob. A symbol carved near the top of the door caught my eye: crossed swords. ¡®A fight¡¯. My thought rang. Faint. A distance away. But exists. Not ignoring it, I came to the only conjecture. A fight would be behind this door. I was not afraid for some reason. Should I be? A part of me said I should. But a bigger part flared with excitement like something has leaked from the depth of my being, anticipating, craving to accept. I am looking forward to it. To it? Was this even me? This body. Who. What have I become? I feel it all. The touch of scales or plates. The strength of muscles that contract and expand. The breathing. I took a deep breath and let it out. Out of a snout, my snout. And the tail, whatever it was¡­ I was doing? It was me. Yet. Wasn¡¯t me at the same time. It was. Weird. Still. I clenched my clawed fist. Whatever has changed, whatever I have become. Right now. This is how I feel, this is how I move.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. This is my body. And I will use this body to find out the truth, of this game, Room of Realities. What it wants and what it can give me; so many questions need answers. Since it¡¯s a game, there must be a way to win, to beat the game. And to do that, I must prepare. Starting with my body. I walked around the room; cramped, my claws clicked softly across the wooden boards. I need more space. I shoved the furniture into the corner. My claws scraped the surfaces, marking their sharpness, making the task unwieldy. Not sturdy like that paper scrap. Only the fireplace was left unscratched. The flame cast my shadow, moving, jogging, walking. I tested my balance, my limbs felt like my limbs. Like they had always been mine. I flicked my tail, oddly easy. Like my arm. I swiped at the stone. Thwack. Clear, satisfying. That¡¯s a pretty strong tail. Let¡¯s try more, and I struck everything around me. A few times. A few more¡­ minutes of celebrating. It barely stung. Instead, joy. Yes, I felt joy. Flicking it around, my tail was fine; no scratch, no fracture, no scorch mark. Of course, I didn¡¯t burn myself, who¡¯d do that? I moved onto testing my other limbs. I tried any maneuvers I could think of: jumping, rolling, punching, kicking, pouncing. Forming my fist to punch wasn¡¯t very practical, I realized. So, I instead spread my claws and swiped. That¡¯s more like it. Why would my first thought be punching instead of clawing? Maybe I didn¡¯t have claws before. There was a lot to test, from how my elbows bent, to the way my ankles rolled. Jumping was intriguing, for some reason. I glanced up. The ceiling was pretty high above, lined with wooden boards just like the floor, though not as smooth. Not quite reachable, even if I jump with all my strength. Close, though. Looking over to the wall, an idea struck me. Running and kicking high at the surface, I pushed off to get higher. Finally, I managed to scrape the ceiling. All this exercise took a while, not quite sure how long. Yet, it wasn¡¯t tiring at all. That should be it, for simple tests at least. Maybe I could increase the challenge with difficult maneuvers. Since I was engrossed in jumping, I could start with that. Jumping further? No, that¡¯s just more exertion. I need more tricks, like flipping in mid-air. Forward and backward. My body felt agile enough, maybe I could do it. Readying myself, I stepped back into a crouch. Thunk. Strange. I heard the scratching and tapping of my feet across the wood enough that I stopped giving them much thought, but that last tap. That last tap was different. Tap Tap Knocking on the floor with my heel a few times, I listened closely. Investigating each plank one by one. Thump. Thump. Thunk. There. This plank, in a corner by the pile of furniture, sounded different, slightly. Hollowed. Crouching, I knocked with my scaled knuckle. Thunk. Yup. Hollowed. If I ripped it out, what will I find? My hand should fit, but there was an issue. Removing the plank wouldn¡¯t be easy. Each board was fitted tightly. No gaps. There¡¯s absolutely no way I could wedge my claws in between them. But something must be there. I want to find out. If I can¡¯t pry it, could I destroy it? I glanced over at the table: the leg. Should be strong enough. At least as tough as the floor. I picked up the table, holding its single, wooden leg. Smashed it against the wall. A few more times. Until the flat surface was knocked off of the leg. Tumbling, it crashed against the far wall. Quite some strength I had there. More than I thought. With a wooden handle attached to the base, I flipped the base up. And struck the hollowed floor, again and again, trying to crack it open. It wasn¡¯t doing much. The wooden base broke off shortly after, clattering across the floor. However, one end of the plank had sunk a bit, and the opposite end had bobbed up. Using what was left of the pole like a club, I hammered away until the board sprung out. Pulling it up revealed a compartment, hidden away. A thin book lay there. On the smooth dark stone. Who would make something like this just to bury a book? Is it that important? Picking it up, the book was smooth like any old notebook you could find in a¡­ in a what? where? Damn my memory again. Printed on the cover ¡®The Monster¡¯s Core 101: Kent Belhmias edition¡¯. Monster. I glanced at the door. Would there be a monster here, beyond the door? This might be my first clue to untangle the game I¡¯ve been thrown into. Also, Kent? I guess he wrote this book. This suggested there could be different editions. I hope this edition is good and reliable, for being held within such a secret place. Gripping the book firm, I moved to sit on the lightly-scratched armchair. Might as well give it a read, and pray I even can. Which I do, that¡¯s a relief. Only later that I noticed, it was in the same language as before. I was so immersed in the flow of words and details, I lost count. Although easy to read, the content was heavy. Confusing. But also understandable, at some points at least. Kent really tried to make sure it was appliable, with explanation and examples to clarify definitions and visualize them. It could only be so clear though. Dozens of terms, alien concepts, all built on a context I didn¡¯t have. It was a nightmare, even with the explanation. I had more questions, ones I didn¡¯t even ask, than answers. At least I¡¯ve got more of the latter than when I started. From what I can understand. There will be monsters within the ¡®Rooms of Realities¡¯. Monsters disappear soon after you kill them, sometimes leaving behind an oval, gem-like fragment. They came in a variety of colors, depending on the monster itself, most often no larger than a thumb. These are the Monster¡¯s Cores, not just any gemstone. The clearest difference is how they radiate light; within, tiny, tiny motes shift and dance, illuminating its surroundings. Since Cores come from monsters, the book listed examples of monsters I could possibly encounter. Although not much of their details were explained, the pictures and names captured my attention. Most I didn¡¯t recognize, but a few were familiar: Goblins, Wolves, Slimes¡­ I must have heard of them somewhere. A Core is used to strengthen visitors. Assuming visitors are me¡­ and others? Here as well? Maybe I could look for them and¡­ and what? I¡¯m not sure. Do they even exist? And if they do, will they be friendly? Hostile? What if we come to blows? Like those games. Don¡¯t ask me which. Ok, if this was a game, I¡¯d kill a monster, they¡¯d drop a Core, I used it and got stronger. To do that, I must swallow it. No chewing. It must be whole and within the body for its full potential. At least, that¡¯s what Kent said. Though, the chance of actually getting one varied, depending on the creature. Rarer, or more powerful monsters, categorized as ¡°special¡± had a much higher cores¡¯ drop rate. Frustratingly, it didn¡¯t really clarify what those are. Area leaders? Bosses? Do monsters have bosses? Like a full-timer? The image of a kobold working a register amused me. The next part was the most difficult to understand. It covered more than a third of this book. After swallowing, you absorb the Core while it¡¯s inside your stomach. Why ¡®absorb¡¯, not digest? How would I know if it¡¯s in the stomach, not shifting to the intestine? Is it safe? The book detailed the process to great length: how to focus your mind and control the absorption. Still, it all seemed so abstract. So far out of reach, it didn¡¯t feel real. I¡¯ll have to give it a try after I manage to get one. After making sure I had read everything, I gave the room one last survey. Tapping on the walls and floor, looking inside the fireplace, hurling stuff at the ceiling, and, after some hesitation, tearing the armchair apart. Yet, nothing came of it. The fabric was unfortunately secretless. Sigh. It¡¯s not comfy anymore. Maybe it¡¯s just this book. Nothing else. Or maybe. I didn¡¯t pry hard enough. But I couldn¡¯t spend too much time here. No food. No water. I heard my stomach rumbling at the thought. When was the last time I ate? Must¡¯ve been before the deep sleep. Fuck that sleep by the way. I need to move. I need to find my lost memories, and seek answers for whatever¡¯s going on with me. With this place. I could always come back. I hope. If I had more tools. Or help. Hmm, just in case, I¡¯ll keep the book in my clawed clutch. Bring it with me. If I had tools, or help, I might return. The only thing left to check is the door. Stretching one last time, I steered towards the door. I gripped the brass handle, cool to the touch. I should be nervous, be hesitant. I wasn¡¯t. However, I felt no peace. The dread followed me. Gloomed me. Like a slab of lead in my shadow. I pushed forward, trekking through the murk of my mind. Without pause, I turned the knob. There was a slight click, the door opened. The feeling of blood A large room appeared in front of me, about the size of a basketball court. Though, it would be a bad idea to play basketball here; it¡¯s more of a cave than a room. Stones scattered on the floor. Stalactites lined along the ceiling, curved and connected to uneven stone walls, on which lanterns hang, wisping the room with dim light. The light cloaked on moving figures. Four short creatures wandering aimlessly. I recalled their description in the Monster¡¯s Core book: Goblins. Green skin, short stature, and pointed ears. Familiar. I knew that, even without the help of the book. Four goblins. Each held different weapons. A shortsword, a club, a bow, and a dagger. No armor, only a loincloth covering their crotches. The smallest of echoes carried over to the group: the sound of my light footstep dragged over by the cave acoustics. Four pairs of eyes trained on me. I barely register a click behind me; not wasting a moment to think on it, I dash forward. Pure instinct, the air screams for blood, the upcoming clash imminent. Everything else¡¯s fading, like entering a tunnel. Even the dread took a step back facing my ferocity. The vermin. Opposing me. Impudence! Legs extend, muscles tense. Heart thumped. I focused on only four things; goblins, one to four, the distance shrinking. Half a beat before they reacted. The bow wielder nocked an arrow. They¡¯re slightly shorter than the others. As short as the knife goblin, but chubbier, its movements clumsy. My first victim. I sidestepped before it was even released, dodging nimbly. My next beat. Thump. In time with the arrowhead clattering on the stone behind me. Half the distance crossed. The rest of the goblins scramble forward, fierceness transfixing their faces into snarls of rage. A gleam in their eyes cry for blood. Wind rushes through my snout. Dirt and stones scatter with each step. The smell of rot permeates the air as I close in. These filthy greens must¡¯ve never showered. My claws baring. eyes lock onto the closest goblin; a lanky green kid holding a sword. Flanked with their friends behind. Club goblin was the biggest, built like a compost barrel. Knife goblin, the smallest, but maybe the fastest. It was beneath a faraway stalactite when I entered, but was already nipping at the sword goblin¡¯s heels. Closing in, I see their spittle flying, weapons readied with hunger. It soon shifted. Into bewilderment. And panic. As my claws descended. Blood splashed. Flesh torn. I backhanded the sword before it could pick up speed, trying to avoid the edge. It scraped off scales with merely a scratch. The goblin faltered, an opening.. My momentum carried me through, twisting and springing upward. I struck it square in the chest, my claws continuing upwards through its now sundered flesh. Doubt a single strike could possibly shred it more. The torn body flew a half-dozen meters with a violent splatter, whipping past its club-wielding friend. Sword clanked, body crumpled. Thump. Between two scales, an arrow sticks into the flesh beneath my shoulder, stopped by taut muscle. Unshaken, my legs keep moving, shifting, to avoid the dagger. The attack was fast but simple, straightforward. I read its lunge from the way its legs coiled. Its short arm won¡¯t reach me. Club goblin¡¯s a few paces behind, distracted by the broken body of its friend for a moment. That moment was enough. I blow past it and reach the archer, attempting to notch another arrow. I kick out, striking the arm. Crack. Its shriek echoes with the sound of its forearm shattering. Thump. Four heartbeats, that¡¯s all it took to take care of the two. Two more to handle. Dagger goblin came in close. I tried kneeing it, but it was too swift, darting underneath. Its dagger bounced off my thigh, leaving the faintest of lines. My eyes caught the swing of a wooden shaft; I brought my arm up, hand flexing for impact. I expected a dull pain. Barely a tad. Thank you scales. Dagger goblin looped behind me, opportunistic, trying to find the right moment. I won¡¯t let it, but I can¡¯t ignore Club, swinging away. If I turn ar- turn my ass! I have a tail, I shouldn¡¯t forget. With that thought, my tail snapped. An air-splitting whip cracked against the backstabber¡¯s knees, toppling the goblin. Its dagger whistled through the air as it fell, missing me entirely... Its head and shoulder thudded against dirt and stone. My heel followed. CRACK. Shards of its skull flew. My feet painted the cavern floor crimson. I felt it all. The hardness of temporal bone, crushed. The soft and squishy brain, squashed. My sole smeared with gloop. My eyes though: fixed onto the stout goblin. It stared back, eyes wide. Sweat covered its disgusting body. Fear mixed with a putrid smell. It screamed and swung, I batted the club aside, throwing the creature off balance. My arms flashed forward; claws slashed its arms and chest. The goblin, frenzied, swung wildly. I blocked and dodged back, evading with ease. Desperation filled its movement. This pest seemed a little tougher than the rest; my claws didn¡¯t sink as deep. But that¡¯s all. So what if it can take more hits? It was slow. Slower than the remains of Dagger guy under me. Predictable. An animal. Just a punching bag. Grinning, I rained down on it. Claws, feet, and tail. Slashes, kicks, swipes. Blood and innards poured out like a broken sewage pipe, drenching me red. The bow goblin rushed in to help. Hitting me with the bow held in its only good hand. Ignored, the bow bounced off my scaled back. I backhanded the whelp, sending both the goblin and weapon rolling away. And continued my execution. It couldn¡¯t even crawl as I stomped. And kicked and clawed and tore. Until it moved no more. Tossing what¡¯s left of the goblin away, completely unrecognizable, unmoving. Blood pooled underneath the pile. Fear and rage contorted the bow goblin¡¯s expression. Shaking, holding an arrow, surrounded by its scattered quiver, I glanced at the last one remaining, and took a step towards it. No rush. A lingering scent of metal hung in the air. I couldn¡¯t taste their ferocity anymore, and the pounding of my heart dimmed, but the rumbling of dread rose. I forced it down the gut. I watched the goblin with the look of an office worker wrapping up his chore. It ran at me. Eyes bloodshot, arm extended, tiny fist gripping the shaft with every ounce of its meagre strength. A casual kick sent it flying. The sound of its collar breaking mixed with the skidding of its flesh on stone. ¡°Hey. Can you speak?¡± I half-yelled. Wincing a little, as I pulled the arrow out of my shoulder. The expression was half from the pain, and half from what I said; still surprised hearing my own voice. I don¡¯t know if communication is going to be possible after what I have done to them, but I¡¯d like to try. It¡¯s only response was an odd shriek as it struggled, and failed to pick itself up, eyes filled with what I could only guess was anger and confusion. I sighed and took a few steps closer. ¡°Can. You. Understand. Me¡± The goblin gibbered, incomprehensible, sent spittle flying. It scrabbled to grab a rock and threw it my way. The rock bounced off my scaled chest harmlessly. ¡°Fucking great.¡± I cursed with annoyance. It can¡¯t understand me. I¡¯m not even sure it could even talk at all. Should have expected this. A monster understanding language? I felt dumb for even considering it. At least I tried. I grabbed the goblin¡¯s head in one hand as it searched for another stone, my other crushing its neck. The goblin clawed at my scaled arm, its despaired wail gave way to choked cries of agony as I bend, and bend and bend. A loud snap, like breaking a twig. The body dropped to the ground. Motionless. The cave became quiet. Only the sound of my breathing. And the fucking dread curling like parasites. I took a deep breath. Out. And another. I wasn¡¯t tired, even after all the slaughtering. It¡¯s just¡­ disappointing. Wait. Disappointing? Why? Sure, I couldn¡¯t get rid of my deadness. But I won, barely hurt. That¡¯s the reason. It ended easily. Something was wr¡­ Right. Those goblins didn¡¯t put up much of a challenge. If this was a game, this¡¯d be the tutorial. An appetizer for a player to adapt to before the main course. Reviewing the fight, I inspected each corpse. My performance was subpar, at best. Yes, I did win without any meaningful injury. however. I could have won with no injury. I judged the goblins predictable. But I, too, was predictable. Overwhelming them with brute force. Attack, evade, attack. No trick, no strategy. If I¡¯d been fighting something stronger, something smarter, something that could actually threaten me. It could turn out different. Ugly.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. I didn¡¯t need anything more. This time. Maybe that was another reason I felt disappointed. Against those weaklings, wit and technique was unnecessary. This was just my first fight. There¡¯d be plenty more to sharpen my skills, against bigger foes. And, I was looking forward to it. Standing in the middle of carnage, I looked past it. Past the stalactites, to another door. With the obstacle taken care of, I moved to step over their remains, to approach the exit Wait, actually- Faint noises interrupted me: suction. I glanced down at the source; the carcasses strewn about. Something was happening. They started to. Swirl? I¡¯m not even sure. The corpses bent and bent and bent into a spiral. All of them at once. There wasn¡¯t any crunching, just a faint swoosh of wind. Each corpse collapsed into itself, shrinking and folding, until nothing was left. Except for a small shard. A Core. I could tell at first glance. The fragments were identical to what I¡¯d seen in the book. Only two of the bodies left one behind; the last two I¡¯d killed. All that remained was a large pool of blood, scattered bits of flesh, and two Cores. The swirl only sucked their bodies, oh, and weapons. I noticed one of the whirlpools had sucked in the sword, even though it¡¯d been thrown across the cave. I wonder what would happen if the corpses were thoroughly pulverized. Would anything be sucked in? Not that I wanted to do it. Not worth the effort. Two Cores total. But there was something more. Right in the middle of the cave. Dirt formed up from the ground, like an anthill. I watched it collapse with a dull thud leaving a small pedestal of marble, maybe. No, I don¡¯t think that¡¯s marble. The color was too pure, too flat, to be marble I gathered both fragments and slowly approached the podium. Empty. A podium that holds nothing. What¡¯s the point? I stopped and moved around, not getting any closer yet, eyes running all over it. It¡¯s the same from every angle. With my eyesight, I should have noticed anything, anything at all that was even slightly different. Hmm. I have to get closer. Maybe it requires touch to activate. There must be a reason this thing erupted out of a dirt mound. Approaching, the flat-top surface was about the height of my knee. I leaned down, a foot away, to inspect its smooth surface. Something stirred. Not on the pedestal. But in my head. Select your option Not a sound, it wasn¡¯t even words at all.. I can¡¯t describe it. The best I could say is, a feeling. An intent. It wants me to choose. And the options themselves were clear in my mind. Three options. Rewards, finally, that¡¯s how games work. Images began to form as I smirked. A necklace. Beautifully crafted. Intricate. A thin, silver chain attached to an egg-shaped sapphire. A rubber wristband. White and plain. There was a strange sense of familiarity. I¡¯ve seen similar, I¡¯m sure of it. And an orb. Ancient. Aberrant purple veins webbed its surface. The size of my palm. With the images came purpose. Usage. These imprints in my mind were a guide to help me move forward. To understand how things work. And I got to choose its shape from the provided choices. I had no idea how it¡¯d work, how things like these would ¡®guide¡¯ me. I guess, any of them will do. The orb wasn¡¯t really practical though. So, I picked what piqued my curiosity. Lights flashed the moment I made my decision. And something else. A fleeting feeling. Gone before I could catch a hint. Maybe. Maybe it was just my imagination. Did I really feel anything at all? . Putting it out of my mind, I focused on what now lay in front of me, set on the pedestal: The rubber wristband. Purer than snow, a brilliant white. Simple, thin, smooth in my hand as I reached for it. Maybe only a centimetre wide and sized just a bit too large for me. I curled a finger around the strip and pulled. Stretchy, but solid, like trying to stretch iron. Rubbery iron. Rubbery iron? What does that even mean? How does that work? Sliding it around my right hand, my claws scraped its side as I pulled it on. Inspecting it closely I couldn¡¯t see a scratch. Still, perfectly smooth, and just loose enough to be comfortable. As the wristband settled, I felt something. Another intention though not so clear. Like a tendril reaching for me. Asking permission. But, for what? Access, a connection? I paused, staring at the odd band around my wrist. Nothing¡¯s happened. Yet. What¡¯ll happen if I give it my consent? What if it¡¯s cursed? Here, in the first room? A tutorial. Unlikely. The sentience was probably just my guide. I earned this. It¡¯s mine. I accept. At that thought, the band shrunk around my wrist, fitting snugly. And then came the pain. Sharp, intense, an eruption of agony shot through. ¡°Aa! What the fuck?!¡± I hooked a claw around the strap. Before I could pull it back, the pain receded as quick as it came, and a screen apparated. Right there. A dark, translucent screen; pure white lettering in the same language as before appeared across its surface as fast as I could read. Like it was reading me instead.
Connection successful. Congratulations on clearing the Initiation Room, Visitor. Introduction automatically started This item is a universal standard, Status Interconnected Display Commonly referred to as an ¡®Inspector¡¯. A data provider and status display. Authorized and verified by both the Supreme-Order and the Administrators of this Grand Dungeon [Rooms of Realities] to provide accurate information. An inspector is essential for any Visitor: It provides information including, but not limited to, the Visitor¡¯s health and ability, the nature of the present Rooms and Doors, and accumulated currency. Inspectors come in a variety of Grades as determined by the information it has available, and its various advancements and features. Visitor is expected to protect and care for their Inspector, only utilizing it for its designated purposes. Usage Instructions: Choose a prompt or command with your mind shaped by intention from the following list. Verbal commands are viable but not required. Available command: Display Visitor¡¯s status Information will be displayed on screen. The Visitor may permit others to view the screen. Information cannot be viewed without the Visitor¡¯s permission. This is a Common Grade item. It can be upgraded. Please read this carefully. This introduction will only be shown once.
That¡¯s a lot to take in, but helpful. The pain? Already forgiven. I wasn¡¯t certain about something. A moment within the river of words. Glancing back at the phrase ¡®the Supreme-Order and the Administrators¡¯, I tried to recall the feeling that overcame me when I first read it: an incredible vastness impossible to comprehend or describe. Beyond anything I could imagine. A deep reverberation. Whatever it was had to be important. My curiosity burned for answers, answers that would have to wait. I must remember every single word on that screen. Reading it over and over until I was satisfied, the screen faded without a thought or command. Although the Introduction referred to this thing as a ¡®Status Interconnected Display¡¯ or ¡®Inspector¡¯, I¡¯d rather just call it a wristband. Easier that way. Staring at it, I thought. ¡®Display my status¡¯. And the screen popped up. Just a thought, not even the precise command listed. White text blinked out, all at once this time.
Visitor name: ??? Health status: Injured Current Room: Initiation Room [Cleared] Room size: M Available Doors: Lobby Room, Puzzle Room
That¡¯s it? I was hoping it¡¯d know my name at minimum. The least it could do after stabbing me. I massaged my wrist again where the pain had pierced through. A Common grade wristband really can¡¯t do much. I read the few lines it had again. It was just as I¡¯d thought; this Room was a test. To get a wristband. Initiation, huh. M size, Medium? So, there might be an S, L, or XL Room. Or even more. ¡°Available Doors¡± was obvious enough. The first Room was a Lobby. That would make the next one a Puzzle Room. Puzzle huh. I like puzzles. The screen faded with a simple thought. I gently rubbed the wristband with a claw. It wasn¡¯t much, but what it had was still useful. Knowing the nature of the next Room meant I could prepare myself. Getting caught off guard could end really badly, I¡¯ve only got myself to rely on after all. Well, I guess wristband too. It¡¯d be a lot easier to stay vigilant with a warning. With that taken care of, I looked to my other hand: Two Cores, faintly glowing, resting in my palm.