《Beneath Nightmare Dungeon》 Book 1 Ch 1: The Crazies are Waiting ¡®You ever seen that film before? The one where the single guy is trapped inside a cabin after all his friends on an outing got bitten by a rabid wolf and turned insane? I¡¯m pretty sure the main character was called Johan as well. He took apart some of his old friends with a steak knife and tears running down his face, yeah, bloody stuff. All the violence and gore you could ask for. Especially the plot twist at the end where he finds ou-. Wait, have you actually seen the film?¡¯ For all his career in his adult life, Johan had never expected this type of closing interview when he had been terminated for trying his best to show initiative and increase his workload capacity. To be fair, the woman sitting in front of him had both shoes resting upon the table and she was heavily leaning back in her chair with arms resting behind her neck. The expression on her face showed how little she cared for the formality of his situation, he was fired, he messed up, no they wouldn¡¯t be charging him or suing him as long as he signed a detailed indemnity form free of his own volition. ¡®I love them. Horror films I mean, not men stuck alone in cabins trying to kill their previous friends. That would be craaaazzeeee. Anyway, I¡¯m guessing you didn¡¯t watch the film from the look on your face. Do you work out? I think you do. I wasn¡¯t allowed to say this before but your body is pretty fit. Your face not so much but I can see the lines underneath your shirt. Say¡­.¡¯ The Director of Human Resources at Mediqo was beginning to worry Johan. He¡¯d been publicly called out personally during a public announcement during his lunch break in the company cafeteria before two large men wearing security outfits had escorted him with more than a little force to the elevator and he¡¯d been shown into one of the top floor offices. All he knew that that the main company was a subsidary of Strikker Coffee but he had no actual idea of what they produced if anything. He simply turned up at work, stared at his spreadsheets, made calculations and adjustments and tried his best to work efficiently. ¡®I¡¯m not quite clear on what¡¯s going on here. Could you clarify a little? Also, I didn¡¯t watch that film. I¡¯ve watched a few in my time¡­but rabid people trying to kill someone in the woods? No, I¡¯m pretty sure that I¡¯d remember that. Yes, I like to work out. A strong, healthy body is good for the mind. Could you tell me what the problem is..please?¡¯ said Johan. He¡¯d been trying to work out her expression with some difficulty, emotions on faces came harder to Johan than other people. Mainly, due to the fact that most of his childhood was spent with parents in absentia. Combined with the fact that he had certain emotional issues with his temper made it harder for him to develop friendships. Isolation was a terrible thing for a child, he was trying to do his best though. ¡®In all my history on this little planet of ours Belphus I¡¯ve never met someone quite like you Mr Wolff. You came highly recommended which has been why your total salary has been close to mine despite the difference in our positions. I¡¯d like to say thank you for your years of service and a full mandatory dismissal package is available providing you sign this disclaimer that you agree to your contract with us ending immediately and no side will claim damages or press charges. Are you clear on that or would you like me to run through it in greater details?¡¯ The sudden switch in her tone from personal to professional threw Johan a little. He needed time to think, to adapt to match the right information that she wanted to hear. ¡®I¡¯m good at acting aren¡¯t I? Top of my high school drama performances. I thought you might give me a little bit more information if I tried a different approach with you. No such luck it seems, I see in your eyes you look confused. We caught you. Simple as that.¡¯ ¡®I accept that. I made a mistake in trying to do better in my job. I needed more from it, when you have limited resources you need more.¡¯ The expression on the Director of Human Resources, Johan didn¡¯t know her name but he¡¯d seen her in the cafeteria on the rare birthday celebration for employees on his floor, hardened. Pulling her feet off the table she let them hit the floor in front of the desk with swiftness as her arms came down and slammed down, the sudden motion making Johan jerk backwards in his chair. ¡®I tried to be friendly with you about this. All my training and years of experience and I¡¯ve never come across someone like you. The experience of a lifetime. All those people affected by the mistakes of a single person. A selfish person I think Mr Wolff. You like me to be tough, you like making people angry don¡¯t you?¡¯ Next he knew, she was raising a finger in his face. Angry, severely angry and directed all at him. He¡¯d made a mistake again. A pain inside his chest began to build up as Johan clenched his hands tighter, he needed to be careful he wouldn¡¯t lose his temper. Not in public, not like this. ¡®Mr Wolff. You¡¯re like a rabid creature from that film that directly attacked this company and caused a sufficient amount of damage and chaos, costing enough money that we need to make a declaration to the stockholders. You might be under the impression that you can do what you want, where you want and even just because we¡¯re not obligated to charge you for your mistakes it doesn¡¯t mean that we. will. Stand. For. It.¡¯ The smack of her hand on the desktop surface only increased the pain building inside Johan¡¯s chest. He¡¯d tried so hard not to lose his temper, to listen and work with others but he¡¯d failed. Again. ¡®Give me a pen.¡¯ said Johan. ¡®I need a pen to sign it and we¡¯re done. I don¡¯t like you shouting me and frankly you¡¯re acting entirely unprofessional. Give me a pen and we can be done with all this, I¡¯ve had a seriously bad day and¡­¡¯ His hands trembling now at the side, the pain continued to build inside his chest. He took several deep breaths inside and out in a last-ditch attempt to calm himself down. All he needed to do was to sign the document and leave. Sign and leave. He could even leave all his personal belongings by his workspace, walking by his ex-colleagues and hearing their whispers or attempts at consolatory words would have made it worse. Much worse. The Director of Human resources was a little surprised from her expression. She¡¯d expected him to apologise and break down he realised. Weakness, he¡¯d shown too much weakness inside his workplace to try and fit in. Hid himself and his rage deep, deep beneath his face and taken all the junk that had been thrown at him. ¡®I said, that I want you to give me a pen. Doesn¡¯t that sound easy enough?¡¯ Johan brought both trembling hands to his face and smiled. His teeth showing. The corners of his mouth were raised to the point of pain for him as he looked the Director of Human Resources in her face and smiled. He¡¯d had enough. This was another option than violence. The emotion had to come out in one form and he wanted to react. He had to stop it spilling over. Another deep breath this time but it didn¡¯t come from him, the woman sitting opposite him had sat down hard on her chair and pressed a button on an intercom placed on her desk. The voice of her personal assistant, who Johan had already passed coming in, came on. ¡®Miss Martizen, have you finished with your appointment already? The board of directors have asked for a physical copy with the signature of Mr Wolff clearly printed.¡¯ ¡®Andy, call security to my office. Immediately. We have a concern here.¡¯ ¡®Ma¡¯am? Do you need me to step into your office?¡¯ came the voice from the office speaker. Johan decided to pitch in his own voice. His body shaking he softened the muscles on his face and let his smile drop and his hands folded in front of him. A defensive style posture. Crossing his legs he reached down and pulled one of his trouser legs to better cover a black sock. He turned his view towards the office window, the sky was still clear and bright this early and he even thought he could see the harbour from here. The top offices did have the best views. ¡®Hi Andy, I asked the Director of Human Resources for a pen so I can sign the indemnity form. I¡¯m not so sure if she has one. Do you have any spare?¡¯ said Johan. ¡®...Ma¡¯am. I¡¯m coming into your office. With a pen. And security are on their way, they¡¯ll be here in approximately three minutes. Please remain seated ma¡¯am.¡¯ said Andy. Johan gave a toothless smile and let himself relax a little bit. There. He¡¯d found the right approach to deal with it after all. He laced his fingers together on his crossed legs and nodded his head a few times. ¡®A pen. I need to sign the document and we¡¯re done here right?¡¯ said Johan, Failing to get a response from the woman, who had put her hands on the desk and pushed her chair back towards her office window behind her Johan tried again. ¡®Are we waiting for your secretary to deliver a pen? I don¡¯t mind. I just need to sign it.¡¯ enquired Johan. Internally sighing to himself, he picked up the copy of the indemnity form and smiled a toothless smile once more and walked to the office door before he heard the woman speak behind him. ¡®You. You¡¯re not normal. Do you like to scare people with that smile of yours is that it? You think that¡¯s its funny what you¡¯ve done? The repercussions alone are¡­I don¡¯t understand you. A sociopath. You¡¯re a sociopath.¡¯ said Miss Martizen. Johan shook his head. ¡®I¡¯m just a little bit broken. I¡¯m sorry for the shock, I spent a very, very long time by myself.¡¯ replied Johan. He recalled the way the Director of Human pronounced the word, making it stretch before he copied her tone and form of expression. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. ¡®Maybe it made me a little craaazeee. No. It didn¡¯t. I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m just not that good around other people. I¡¯m sorry.¡¯ said Johan. The door to office was flung open and a man in his mid-thirties with glasses and cropped hair stood there holding a pen firmly in one closed fist. ¡®A pen. You requested a pen ma¡¯am?¡¯ Security are right outside if you need them.¡¯ said the youngish man. The Director of Human Resources still pressed back against the office window pointed at Johan. ¡®Mr Darr. Andy. Give him the pen, then get security to escort him out of the building. He no longer works here. And then call the police, I want to press charges. Make sure he gives you the signed indemnity first before he leaves. I don¡¯t know why I passed him to work here but he doesn¡¯t belong here, not with that behaviour.¡¯ Opening his fist the man held out the pen to Johan, gazing at his hands before tilting his head towards the Director of Human Resources to check her personal safety. He saw no signs of damage in the room, nothing was upturned or broken and there was no visible signs of wear on the hands of the man. ¡®Mr Wolff. Please sign this and we can have you to your car within ten minutes. I will personally remove all of your belongings and possessions and have them shipped to your currently held address within the day if you¡¯re willing to leave with me peacefully and in an orderly manner.¡¯ said the man. When Johan failed to respond the personal assistant carried on talking. His tone of voice bland and uninterested as though he had been discussing the weather. ¡®A member of the security team has already collected all of your personal possessions, scanned each item and secured them for delivery to your home address. All company owned equipment will be removed and cleaned for re-purpose.¡¯ Not trusting himself to talk further Johan took the pen, walked over a side wall and flipped through each page quickly, signing his name and dating it in the relevant places. He turned around and threw it, letting it land on the desk with a soft noise. ¡®Thank you for the opportunity you handed me. I¡¯m sorry I caused an issue. I¡¯ll be leaving now. Goodbye.¡¯ said Johan. Fewer words meant a smaller chance of conflict, the pain in his chest had lessened slightly but he felt it rising again. He needed exercise or an opportunity to channel his energy. He didn¡¯t think that they would accept him punching the walls with his fists to relieve his tension lightly. The last company certainly hadn¡¯t. ¡®Get out of my office. Get out of my company. Andy, I asked for security to escort him off the premises. Why are they not doing so? We have the document.¡¯ said Miss Martizen. Johan felt a hand on his tugging at the pen in his hand, he¡¯d forgotten that he was carrying it in the first place. He¡¯d hand it back. With a point. He held onto it, his thumb clicking it open and the thought passed his mind to slam it into the desk. The pain was still in his chest, aching each time he breathed. His thumb clicked again on the pen and he put in into the shirt pocket of the personal assistant, Andy, observing the familiar looking large men behind. An even larger woman in another security outfit had joined them this time. They thought he was a threat or a risk at least. ¡®I¡¯d like to leave now. Please.¡¯ said Johan. He flashed a toothless smile. Showing his teeth when he was aching inside his chest wasn¡¯t a good idea. For all his aggression and temper, he was a poor fighter. At least compared to those when he¡¯d taken martial training and had his arm nearly broken or dislocated enough times. When the Director had been talking about films earlier he remembered. ¡®The crazies are waiting. The film. When a single man went mad in the office and he imagined that they were waiting outside to catch him. Turned out he was delusional at the ending. What?¡¯ he said aloud. The faces of the personal assistant and the three security guards shifted in slight confusion. One of them was wary and touched a hand at their belt where a radio and self-protection device was held. ¡®Forget it. A mistake. A good film to watch though. Bye!¡¯ said Johan. Johan waved a hand at the Director of Human Resources as she had moved her chair back to her desk and was busy writing a note while purposely ignoring him. Her face showed¡­fear? Anger? Too hard for him to clearly work it out. ¡®Mr Wolff, if you¡¯ll accompany us please. Given the current circumstances of your departure from the company we¡¯d prefer that you leave quietly, a vehicle has been booked to take you back to your place of residence.¡¯ said Andy. Keeping his own opinions to himself Johan found himself following one security guard while two others flanked him as they all walked to the main office elevator. He was sure that he heard several whispers from various company employees as they passed by but he was unable to make much out rather than his name. He didn¡¯t even know anyone on this level, none of them were in his department but rumour or messages spread quickly through companies. Everyone liked to gossip. He preferred not to try and make out snatches of conversation. It would only serve to annoy him. Even small conversation would be a mistake at this time. Once he was home he¡¯d need to run through an exercise routine to calm himself a little, or even a little bit of chocolate. Johan felt a little surprised when the employees on one of the higher floors, they could have recognised him from the cafeteria but he wasn¡¯t able to place a name to their face, stopped him and grabbed his arm lightly. The physical interaction wasn¡¯t the issue but he didn¡¯t feel comfortable talking. The women was in her late forties, attractive for her age but her face showed she was clearly uncomfortable talking to him. She gazed directly into his eyes, pushing her own glasses higher back on her nose before talking. ¡®Look, I¡¯m going to be reported to Human Resources for doing this but can you do all of us a favour and just leave the company? You already made a mess and honestly you¡¯ve been creeping everyone out the day that you arrived here. Sorry, but I need to be honest with you about this. I made myself clear. Bye.¡¯ said the woman. Johan turned back to notice that the secretary and security guards, while close to him, were standing apart, clearly keeping a degree of distance from him. They hadn¡¯t stopped the woman from walking up to him and touching him. Given that he had just been fired he was no longer their immediate concern. ¡®Yeah, point taken. I¡¯m leaving now. Done, I¡¯m done here. Are you trying to prove a point? What kind of name is Darr? Unusual. I¡¯m a Wolff and you¡¯re a Darr.¡¯ Johan asked the secretary and security guards as he lightly pulled back him mouth to show his teeth in imitation of a predator. When he received no response he decided to take the initiative and press the elevator button. ¡®This isn¡¯t funny. You four can¡¯t even relax. I can be fired but I don¡¯t like being humiliated like this. All I did was remove excess files to try and increase my own personal workload and this snowballs into a massive deal. I haven¡¯t seen any police turn up so the crime can¡¯t be that serious. Hello?¡¯ With still no response he pushed the button several times before mashing both up and down buttons at once. He¡¯d heard a rumour that it made the elevator move faster. The numbers on the floor display were moving up but there was still a delay. Muttered whispers came from behind him and looking back he saw a fair number of people standing beyond his small personal escort of beginning to crowd with points at him and conversation with each other. ¡®Move it. Out my way, thanks.¡¯ said a deep male voice within the crowd. A balding older man in his mid-fifties, a management type was an indicator. Likely someone working within Human Resources as most of their floor was. The man marched up to Johan but restrained himself from physically touching him. Johan tensed up. He needed to stay calm, losing his job was one thing but getting arrested for physical violence in the workplace was another. These things snowballed he knew from experience. ¡®Can I help yo-¡¯ started Johan before the man was right in his face with a face flushed with anger. ¡®You¡¯ve got something wrong with you. The company is going under and everyone has a good chance to lose their jobs and all you can do stand there and wait? We all know what you did. Those files aren¡¯t going to be recovered. Freak. Sick freak. My family is going to suffer for this. I hope you go to jail for what you did. Everybody knows it was you so get out, just get out. We don¡¯t want you here. Human Resources found out first. You wait until everybody finds out¡­you just wait.¡¯ said the man. His face remained flushed red. Johan was reluctant to respond as the man then turned back and lunged forward, his face close enough so that hot breath came out of his mouth on the cheek of Johan. Grabbing tightly in closer before one hand forcefully pushed an unknown object into his pocket. Instinctively Johan moved his had to touch the item, it wasn¡¯t a sharp edge, not a phone but flattened. Before he was able to question the man about his actions and make it clear to the surrounding crowd the man whispered into Johan¡¯s ear with a fervent rush. ¡®Call it. When you arrive there you need to call it. Use the amulet! The name is Hez-¡¯. The voice of the man was near frantic in Johan¡¯s ear before he was pulled off by one of the large company security guards who gave him a warning glance and gently pushed backwards his chest. ¡®He¡¯s gone! Worst employee ever, am I right!¡¯ said the man, as he raised his voice and pointed a hand at Johan. His previous frantic tone was gone, replaced with a mocking one. With a few claps and cheers from the growing surrounding crowd the man backed off and kept both hands up in the air as though he had just won a sports winning goal. Johan kept his mouth shut and mashed the buttons on the elevator call button. He was rewarded and entered as soon as the doors began to open, followed swiftly by the three members of security who squashed him into the back and the secretary who stayed in front. He heard the closing sound but thankfully the sights and sounds of the rest of the company employees who were now pointing even more in his direction with further frantic discussion had been cut off. Johan was free from the burdens of work, unemployed and completely confused. What just happened? He thought to himself. All thoughts of the strange behaviour of the man drowned out as he was squashed into the descending elevator like a meat sandwich. Book 1 Ch 2: Sacrifice for Me The experience going down to the basement car park was slightly tense. The space inside the elevator with the five was more crowded than he would have preferred. He hadn¡¯t been expecting the secretary and the three security guards to squeeze along with him. They didn¡¯t stop at any floors and the elevator went straight down, which though slightly odd was preferable to having more people dumping their daily work frustrations and blaming him. It was his department who should be angry at him for messing up their workload and schedules, being called up to the Director of Human Resources had been unusual to say the least. His direct manager had avoided all contact from him when the announcement had been made. Johan needed to express himself a little bit, to vent. He might make a mistake with talking but at this point it¡¯d be better than shouting inside a crowded elevator space. The air was beginning to feel thick enough with tension from his perspective. ¡®I¡¯m not a threat. I have anger management issues. Not even trained to fight, not properly. I bet the three of you could take me down in a second. Less than a second.¡¯ said Johan. He¡¯d swiftly changed his mind from no conversation to trying to keep calm. Getting angry was one thing, being overly so was something else. ¡®Mr Wolff. Your compensation package has already been provided to you and further details will be available when you arrive in your form of transport home. Please refrain talking in detail to members of the company security team or myself. You are no longer an employee within this corporation.¡¯ All he could do was wait for the elevator to finish running through the floors, keep his mouth shut or try and make further conversation. He chose the latter, even though he wasn¡¯t working here he still wanted to clearly know the mistake he had made. ¡®Andy. Sorry. I don¡¯t know your last name or title. I tried to show initiative and it got me fired. Do you have any advice for applying for my next job? Even a reference would be useful at this point.¡¯ ¡®Mr Wolff. Please wait until we exit the elevator and¡­ah. We¡¯ve arrived. Security, you can all return to your posts within the building. Thank you for your service. I¡¯m perfectly able to deal with him myself. There is no threat. I repeat, no threat to personal safety.¡¯ The three security personnel refused to move and Johan found himself squeezing past them a little rougher than he wanted. They merely grunted in response without moving an inch. ¡®Excuse me. Yeah, thanks.¡¯ said Johan. Turning back he found he was inside the employee car park. A short distance away a driver stood holding a board with his name on the front. The secretary had exited the elevator with Johan and pointed at the car. ¡®Your trip home Mr Wolff. I have a revelation to share with you. Would you be interested in hearing it? I mean, you¡¯re going to leave the company so why not share a few more moments so I can explain why I acted on the orders of my god. A sacrifice was needed.¡¯ said the secretary. ¡®Wait. What?¡¯ replied Johan. ¡®Andy. Call me Andy. Your job. Your time with this company was productive and¡­an experience. I was paid a great deal. Enough for me to leave this company and my boss who thinks a little too highly of herself. Why, I can even retire to a sunny island for as long as I want. All I was asked in return was to recruit. I was provided with a list of candidates to choose from.¡¯ said Andy. The waiting driver waved their hand at Johan and he waved back in return before pointing at the secretary and he held up his hand to indicate he needed five more minutes. The driver gave Johan a thumbs up before he left one of the side car doors open and climbed into the drivers seat. The sign being held up was dropped on the ground. The secretary made a gesture and the car began to drive off. Johan wanted to run off after it to find the secretary was holding a sharpened ornate blade in one hand. ¡®This is a joke. You¡¯re having a final joke with me.¡¯ said Johan. ¡®No. When you arrive home, you¡¯ll be in for a few more surprises. It turns out that your job error was releasing an entire directory of the personal details, staff salaries, family members, addresses, contact numbers and most of the records that we have on file for a very, very substantial number of employees working at this company. Myself included.¡¯ The anger within Johan began to build. His chest ached and he had to put a hand next to the elevator wall to steady himself. ¡®No. I deleted key files by mistake, all I wanted to do was to increase my workload and make it more efficient. Yes, I got fired but I didn¡¯t do the rest of it.¡¯ ¡®Listen to me Mr Wolff.¡¯ said the secretary. ¡®This story gets even better, you got paid for this you see. Large amounts of cash were deposited directly into your house in hidden locations. There are notes and evidence all pointing to you going to do this on a larger scale. The authorities become involved, they find out your little anger management issues and¡­I¡¯m sure that you can guess the ending. But then a light appeared and offered you a second choice.¡¯ ¡®A light?¡¯ ¡®Or a mannequin with no face. It doesn¡¯t matter at this point. You¡¯ll find out soon enough. All you have to to is read the words on this business card. I assure you that you won¡¯t find yourself in trouble at all, not with this company, not in this world. All your worries will be¡­gone. And all you have to do is read aloud a few words. The sacrifice of a lifetime. Not a bad deal eh Mr Wolff?¡¯ said Andy. Johan stopped listening and turned around. He hadn¡¯t realised it earlier but the space was empty. There wasn¡¯t a single car in sight, even the driver waiting for him had vanished. All that was left was him and the secretary. Rubbing his eyes he tried to take it all in. ¡®This is a bad dream. A dream. Give me the card, give it to me or I¡¯ll¡­I¡¯ll¡­¡¯ ¡®What will you do Mr Wolff? I¡¯m only offering you an opportunity. A little change in lifestyle. Johan..what were your words before? A pen. You wanted a pen. Here¡¯s a card instead.¡¯ Reaching into his suit pocket he took out the pen that Johan had placed earlier in the office and threw it to the floor. ¡®When you don¡¯t need something it becomes worthless. But when something becomes of great value we need to treat it with care. Or make sure it doesn¡¯t run away. Here, take a card instead.¡¯ said Andy. When he moved his hand into his pocket again Johan felt an ache within his chest. None of this was making a degree of sense. His best option was that this random employee was suffering from a psychological breakdown and had decided to engineer the entire situation. For all he knew this entire situation was being fully recorded. Best to roll with it and agree to the terms and conditions before he was able to get out of here. Being stuck alone with a crazy person in an office secure basement car park which was empty was never a good idea at the best of times. ¡®A card. Yeah, sure. I¡¯ll take a card. Does it have to have a special number? Is this a magic trick?¡¯ said Johan. A small opaque business card was handed to Johan from the secretary. He had a look in his eyes as Johan looked over it. If he had been paying attention to his eyes, Johan would have recognised both hunger and fear. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. The small card squeezed a great deal of writing in such a small space. Holding it with both hands Johan gave a hesitant smile before reading the text. [Do you dare to enter Beneath Nightmare Dungeon? Yes, or No? Embrace the challenge!] ¡®This is a joke, isn¡¯t it¡¯ said Johan. ¡®A nice little trick, but I¡¯m not interested. Not even a bit. No. My answer is going to be a hard no. I need to leave now. I can find my own way home.¡¯ ¡®Look at the card. You need to read the card again. They say yes, they always say yes. You will. Yes. You will agree. Not me. I¡¯m not. My name...is Darr. Yes. No, I¡¯m Andy. Read the card. READ IT!¡¯ said Andy. Flipping the card over the exact same words the card shifted into a transparent texture. The words still fully recognisable despite the lack of visible material. He could see through the card but he was still holding it. A trick of the light, or it was made of sufficiently advanced material. His day was surely going from bad to worse, given the blame from employees, a member of top management having a type of breakdown and then her secretary playing a practical joke on him. Either that or the man was literally picking the worst time of day to have a complete psychotic breakdown. ¡®Say yes. You need to say yes.¡¯ said the secretary. ¡®Excuse me? No. I say no. In fact, I say I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on. Show me your list of candidates then. We¡¯re done here. I¡¯m done here, as you kindly put it I no longer work for your company so we can¡­woah!¡¯ The secretary had reached behind his back and pulled out a blade. Not a knife but more ornate with the hilt being a flame design with inlaid patterns and some lettering which Johan failed to recognise at first glance. It gleamed in the light of the company basement car park lights. This at least was being caught on camera, he could even sue the company if necessary. Thankfully, the small shock caused the pain in his chest to diminish. Johan had taken martial arts training previously and knew how stupid it was to try and fight someone with a blade. Even a small knife could cause some serious physical damage either through slashing or stabbing. The look in the eyes of the secretary made him feel even more uncomfortable. ¡®Calm down. Settle down, I¡¯ll agree. Yes. I¡¯m saying yes. Put the knife down and we can talk.¡¯ said Johan. Johan slowly raised both hands up to try and provide a little bit of distance between him and the blade. He wanted to step back but it¡¯d be better to avoid direct provocation. There was no way that he was going to risk losing his fingers to a madman. Losing his temper and grabbing the other man by the throat while temporarily losing his mind was a different story than fighting a crazed person holding a bladed weapon. He instead curled his hands into fists, it¡¯d protect him a little bit more. ¡®You¡¯re meant to die before this. They told me that you¡¯re meant to die first but the process went wrong. Say yes and we¡¯re done. You won¡¯t have any more problems in this world I promise you. I¡¯m not killing you. You should be thanking me. THANKING ME!¡¯ shouted Andy. ¡®Because I¡¯ll be dead if I say yes. This joke has gone on long enough. I¡¯ve been threatened, lost my job and then you pull out a knife and talk about killing me. Here, you want the card then take it back.¡¯ said Johan. Johan held the card out with the tips of his fingers. He was tempted to break free and run but he wanted to keep his eyes on the blade. He knew the name of it, the type at least. It was on the tip of his tongue. As long as he could keep this person talking the better his chances of getting out of this situation, he needed to become relatable as a fellow human being. ¡®That knife. It looks like an antique, Cross Knife. No, Kris. It¡¯s called a Kris knife, the way that the metal waves along. You like knives? They¡¯re good to collect right?¡¯ said Johan. Despite trying his fingers were beginning to cramp holding the card out with outstretched fingers. His arms still outstretched he prepared to push his shoes on the concrete floor and create a little more distance away from the other man. ¡®You did it. The last candidate. It doesn¡¯t matter if you agree or not, they let me go for this. I¡¯m going to spend the rest of my life trying to forget that place. I¡¯m done. I¡¯m free. I¡¯M FREE! Ha. Hahaha. HAHA.¡¯ ¡®I¡¯m going to read the card and you put the knife down. I can¡¯t read it and agree with that knife sticking up. You can hold the knife but stop waving it around and flip it around so I don¡¯t get distracted. Are we good? I¡¯m going to say yes. Let me read the card one more time.¡¯ said Johan. As though a switch flipped inside the other man he turned the knife around, showing his skill with it. He held it on his side, the sharpened edge of the Kris blade facing backwards. ¡®Read it and agree. I promise I won¡¯t hurt you, it¡¯ll be fast. So fast. No pain. I promise. All I need is to be free of that place. You understand don¡¯t you? I¡¯m never going back there again.¡¯ said the secretary. ¡®Right¡­you don¡¯t want to go back. I¡¯m sure you don¡¯t. I¡¯m moving my arms so I can read the card. Calm down. We¡¯re fine. Everything is fine.¡¯ Bringing his arms back in and ignoring the aches in his fingers from holding the car between them he read the card again in both hands, allowing himself to take his eyes off the knife. [Do you dare to enter Beneath Nightmare Dungeon? Yes, or No? Embrace the challenge!] The same words. There was no change in them and the card remained the same appearance. Johan guessed that the design would adjust itself according to temperature, alternating on each side when it came into contact with his body heat. The words themselves made little sense, he¡¯d rather not enter a place with the word nightmare included. ¡®I¡¯m agreeing. Can you see me? I¡¯m agreeing.¡¯ said Johan, slowly nodding his head. Not the best mood but he needed to cooperate here, to give a little and in return diffuse the situation. If necessary he¡¯d try and get the knife off the man, but it would be a last choice resort. ¡®The process will begin. When you get there, tell nobody about me. Do you hear me? Don¡¯t tell anyone about this. You¡­you pressed a floating button. You pressed yes, nothing else.¡¯ said Andy. Given that the pain inside his chest was building under this stressful situation, Johan wasn¡¯t overly surprised that a headache began t develop as well. What he hadn¡¯t expected was the weight of sleep that threatened to overwhelm him. The man had either drugged his coffee earlier or there was something in the air. Even in the elevator would have given him sufficient opportunity to jab him with a chemical that induced sleep. ¡®There, it¡¯s finished. I¡¯m finished, all finished. This won¡¯t hurt. No pain. No. Pain. Lucky. Yes! Good luck!¡¯ said Andy as he took a step closer towards Johan with a mean glint in his eyes. Johan wanted to interrupt him, to stop and try and shake some sense into him before darkness drifted in front of his eyes. His head began to spin but he kept enough of his senses to rush forward and grab the secretary. He¡¯d take him with him at least, the knife was a concern but at this point he had little other choice. His eyes grew heavier and his thoughts cloudy as Johan struggled to stay awake. He dropped the card and rushed forward to grab the hands holding the knife. A sharp pain in his upper shoulder hit him but ignoring the sensation as he forced the secretary backward before he lost his vision on one eye. There was a moment of pain and then it nearly immediately diminished but all his vision offered was pure darkness on one side. Still trying his best to grapple the man, get in close and hold on tight to his clothing the last sounds Johan heard were a scratchy, mechanical voice. Book 1 Ch 3: Helpful Murder Voice A cold air woke Johan up. The breath on his ear and the whispering were the next sensation which shook him into near-immediate consciousness. His heart beat rapidly when he heard the words. His vision was blocked though, all he could see was darkness. ¡®.¡­Are you awake¡­I helped¡­helped you.¡¯ came the voice. When he moved his hands to remove the blindfold Johan found them bound behind him. The cold sensation came again and he felt that his shirt, tie and jacket had been removed from his chest leaving his upper body full exposed. Moving his fingers they touched a rough stone floor, cool to the touch. His head ached. Badly. Drugs likely, he¡¯d been moved to a different location or a corner of the same car park. The voice that whispered to him was unfamiliar though. Trying to remember any further details only increased the pain inside his brain. No hunger or thirst yet, his body felt completely fresh. Odd, but not his immediate priority to work out. The business card shown the word dungeon but he hoped that this wasn¡¯t part of the nightmare experience. Either this was a cross between a torture or pleasure chamber but he wanted no part of it. Johan had seen enough movies to have an idea of how to deal with the situation. Don''t scream or threaten, don''t lose your temper and add a bit of humour. ¡®.¡­.I don¡¯t know the safeword. Can you let me go? Please?¡¯ A sound that was meant to be laughter but from a damaged or distorted throat came out as the unknown voice responded. ¡®Awake. Yes¡­.quiet. We need to be quiet. I¡¯m a friend. Keep quiet. They will listen for us. For you. Yes. My name...you...don¡¯t know my name. Good. I like that. No Master. Yes.¡¯ came the voice. His back was off the floor due to the binding on his hands, rope or another type of fabric material. Not metal, too smooth for that with a slippery sensation around his wrists. Loose enough to move but strong enough to stop him pulling it apart with his hands. More likely a place where he had absolutely no interest. ¡®Can you take off my blindfold at least?¡¯ suggested Johan, struggling to lift his back off the floor to move into a sitting position. His stomach although not heavily muscled lacked fat, due to a daily exercise routine and mainly healthy diet. A roughened hand touched his skin gently pushing him down with a large amount of strength behind it. When he tried harder the hand responded in turn until Johan was being pushed harder against the ground making hands bend. ¡®You¡¯re hurting me. I don¡¯t know what situation is going on with you the secretary of the Human Resources Director or if this whole situation has been an elaborate joke but I¡¯d had enough of it. YOU HEAR ME! I¡¯VE HAD ENOUGH OF IT! TAKE MY BLINDFOLD OFF, UNTIE MY HANDS AND GIVE ME MY SHIRT BACK!¡¯ His mouth was nearly immediately blocked off as he felt the hand wrap itself around the flesh on his face, softer and pliable it smelled faintly of roses. The palm of the hand flexed as he felt flesh stretch and cover his mouth sealing at the edges. ¡®Sh¡­shh¡­no. Be quiet. Or I make you stay quiet. They will hear and find us. Too soon. Too soon. Not Master. No name. Don¡¯t have my name. I like it.¡¯ said the unknown voice. All he could do was try and nod his head to agree with the crazy person. ¡®Wait¡­I need to¡­wait. Quiet. We need to be quiet. They are listening. Always listening.¡¯ said the voice. Johan waited, with his hands tied back and his mouth and eyes closed off there wasn¡¯t a great else he could do. Aside from kicking his feet and legs but if they connected with the unknown figure then he could cause a bigger issue. Needing something to do, Johan began to stretch out his legs a little. His feet were covered and so were his legs, he could feel the clothing on his lower body. Moving he legs his mind was more secure in the situation. Having his mouth entirely closed off was uncomfortable and so was his position but he was able to flex his legs and feet. ¡®They¡¯re gone for now. Gone. I¡¯m so sorry that you¡¯re here. But I can help you. Yes. Yes. I can do you a great favour. Do not say my name.¡¯ said the voice. The hand over his mouth was removed and Johan took in several deep breaths, trying his best to keep his breathing shallow to avoid noise. Losing his temper in this situation would only make it worse but lying here and taking it wasn¡¯t going to improve it either. Questions. If he could talk and get answers. ¡®A favour.¡¯ asked Johan, keeping his voice closer to a whisper. ¡®Yes. You don¡¯t want to be caught by his creatures. No. Nonono. I don¡¯t want to fight. No. Nonononono. Fighting is so boring. I¡¯m bored. Not Master I¡¯m bored. I want to float. Float up. Yes. Yesyes. Float!¡¯ ¡®Take off my blindfold and then release me and we can talk. I can¡¯t help you unless you help me out first. A little give and take goes a long way.¡¯ said Johan. The voice only increased in speed ¡®You need to listen to me. They have taken over. Only all their creatures control this place now. All of them won. They won the competition and decided to stay, then they broke it. Broke everything. You are safe for now. But if you are infected by the madness then¡­BOOM!¡¯ Johan knew it was better to agree with a crazy person. At least on a surface level. To give into the delusion was the worst choice regardless of their situation. All he knew was that this individual was clearly unstable and¡­.his shoulder. He had a knife in his shoulder. There was no immediate pain. Uncomfortable but no pain. His body was in shock. Clearly or the side-effect of the dosage used to knock him unconscious was numbing his body. ¡®I¡¯m listening but I need an answer please. I was hurt, a knife was in my shoulder. Did you remove it?¡¯ ¡®No¡­the Player-Gods automate the system so it healed you when you arrived. Your knife is here. Next to you. You. Next. Damaged but you will need it. Yes. Yes. And your eye. No eye. No idea. Not Master has no idea. Yes eye. Eye Eye.¡¯ said the voice. ¡®Thank you for healing me. Do you have a name? I¡¯m Johan. I¡¯m new here and need some help. I¡¯d like it if you leave the knife alone, it was a gift from a friend. A close friend of mine who would be extremely sad if I lost it. He gave it to me to keep it safe.¡¯ The fact that it was a crazed man who had threatened him into reading the words on a business card and the knife getting stuck his shoulder when he¡¯d grappled with the man as a last resort didn¡¯t bear mentioning. Unless this figure happened to be the same person who suffered from a severe personality disorder. Disguising voices was usually harder than most people thought, and being unable to use his sight made it a little easier to focus on this particular voice. This one sounded damaged in a way, like a person who¡¯d had an operation on their throat. Or they¡¯d been breathing With no immediate response from the voice Johan carried on talking. ¡®My shirt, I¡¯m cold, can you give me something to cover me chest? I don¡¯t want to get sick on this floor. Your hand is appreciated but it¡¯s not exactly covering me up enough. Do you have a spare shirt or a jacket? Even a sack will do. Or cloth.¡¯ said Johan. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. A rough fabric draped over Johan''s bare skin. The hand remained firmly on his chest effectively pinning him to the ground. He¡¯d made a start at least, a single request of his was met. He¡¯d need to show his thanks. ¡®I¡¯d shake your hands but as you can see mine are pinned behind my back.¡¯ said Johan, keeping his voice calm and level as he humanly could. ¡®I offer you support. I can give you another favour, do you want to receive an action from the just and merciful? Ma-Master Not Master.¡¯ Rather than agreeing, Johan did the one thing that non-verbal communication is considered essential. He moved his face into the form of a smile. A friendly one, at least as much he was able. It could have been taken as an insult for all he knew, it all depended on the mental stability of this individual. ¡®Yes. Yes. You understand my actions despite your silence. Your face shows happiness. Nod your head if you agree, I promise you will feel no pain. None not Master. Float. I want to float.¡¯ said the damaged voice. Pain. The voice promised no pain. According to it a system had healed his wound, if he¡¯d been able to verify the injury to his shoulder or even touch a bandage he would have been reassured. Better to be cautious for a little bit longer. All he needed was two things, remove the blindfold and untie his hands. There was only so much information that he could gain from hearing the voice. Johan chose to keep the smile on his face, this time showing some of his teeth but refused to nod his head. He needed to tread a little carefully. ¡®Well¡­you¡¯ve been so kind so far. But I¡¯d like to clarify a little. The covering does feel warm, I appreciate it. Again, I¡¯m Johan, do you have a name you¡¯d like me to call you? Or a title?¡¯ ¡®I will kill. You. You will never become one of their creatures, never to be recycled or trapped in this place. My name? I¡­I forgot. They changed me. Took their turns trying to change me so many, many times. I..I don¡¯t know. This body is not mine. Not mine. I¡¯m helping you. Why aren¡¯t you letting me help you? WHY AREN¡¯T YOU LETTING ME HELP YOU? I WANT TO LEAVE! NOT MASTER CAN¡¯T LET ME LEAVE THIS PLACE!¡¯ The smile faltering on his face, Johan found himself being shouted at. Worse the voice had imitated his tone when he had been shouting. Unstable meant unpredictable. Soothing was the answer. ¡®Of course you¡¯ve helped me so much already by giving me such kind company. I appreciate your efforts, never mind names, they¡¯re stupid things anyway. Not important between friends. We are friends aren¡¯t we?¡¯ ¡®I¡­.I¡¯ve been alone for too long. They leave, they always leave me. Then they die or worse. Always. I¡¯m sorry. Forgive my actions. Float. Your eyeball. I like your new eyeball. Juicy. Fat.¡¯ The muscles on his face beginning to cramp Johan did his best to keep a smile on his face, not too much teeth he stretched his legs around a bit. Pins and needles were forming in his hands as the restricted blood flow began to have an effect. There were times to talk and times to listen. He needed to keep his mouth shut no matter what, let the damaged person vent and they¡¯d calm down eventually. This he knew well from personal experience., the matter of how far they¡¯d deteriorated was another matter. ¡®Listen to me. This is important, no matter whatever you do, you must never look in a mirror in this place. Ever. Oh, you want to know why? It¡¯s because you¡¯re so ugly that you would break them and then I would never see my true beauty ever again. The truth is a hard place to live in but I manage. Yes, I¡¯ve been by myself for a long, long, long, long, time, time, time, time. How did you guess? Guess, guess, guess. Ugly not master.¡¯ said the voice. The fact that Johan hadn¡¯t even muttered a single word somehow made the situation worse. The mental instability of the individual was even worse if they were filling in his part of the conversation, even the words that he¡¯d spoken earlier might have come across as white noise. He stopped moving his legs and tensed his body. Smile stick fixed on his face, Johan continued to listen. ¡®The worst part about being by yourself for such a long time is when your hallucinations begin to feel real. You can touch, taste and smell them. Then you begin to imagine that they take on a life of their own, like you Isaac. You¡¯re my most vivid one yet. This is why I need to protect you from the false gods. I like you too much for you to die just yet. I¡¯m bored. Bored. Boooring.¡¯ The coldness of the room Johan was in didn¡¯t do anything to stop the sweat building on his back or on his forehead. The situation was deteriorating he knew, if his captor had referred to him with another name. He needed to reassert control and re-establish his own identity, or he could pretend to be this ¡®Isaac.¡¯ Chances were though that it would backfire on him. The best solution to dealing with someone suffering from hallucinations or a psychotic break was not to buy into their reality. It could potentially buy him time but this wasn¡¯t your normal situation and he was effectively tied up and blinded at the mercy of a freak. A complete freak. ¡®They did this to us, all of us. They corrupted and took broken pieces and broke them even more. But you can fix it. Yes. Yes. Reset or destroy, but do not become a god. Never. Bad gods. Stinky gods! They locked me up. But also set me free.¡¯ whispered the voice. ¡®My name is Johan. Johan Wolff. I was brought here against my will after reading a business card and getting a knife in my shoulder. I don¡¯t know your name but you¡¯re a good person. Please, let me go. Untie my hands, take off my blindfold and walk out. I promise I won¡¯t become a god. I¡¯m just a man. A normal ordinary man called Johan with anger management issues. And no shirt but the covering you gave me helps. I won¡¯t talk about you. Free me and I¡¯ll walk away, you won¡¯t hear from me again.¡¯ ¡®.¡­then I will follow another plan. Jo-han Wolff not master. I will cut the ropes that bind you. This will leave you free for his creatures to find you, but you will have freedom. Do not move. Do not touch your blindfold. You will remove it only when I have left this room. Are we c-c-clear?¡¯ said the voice. The hand on his chest released the gentle pressure that had been stopping him from sitting up and went under his back and lifted him up. Johan felt one strong hand reach behind him and release the ties. The rough cloth covering on his chest fell onto not the floor with part of it covering his knees. Next, his hands were held down, and the binds that held him were released. The blindfold on Johan¡¯s face was left alone as a clattering sound broke the silence as an object had been dropped. The Kris knife. It¡¯d been here the entire time and he¡¯d been unaware of it. He¡¯d pick it up as soon as possible, any weapon would be better than nothing. Or it was another random piece of random metal. He¡¯d need to see it in person to identity it properly. No point in risking cutting himself when he was still temporarily blinded. Tentatively Johan reached up and touched his shoulder and upper body. He had to force himself to not touch the blindfold, dealing with a dangerously unstable individual he needed to follow some established rules. Further communication was necessary. There was no wound on his shoulder. Not a single mark or any sensation of pain, he reached around the area to make sure that he wasn''t mistaken but there was nothing. Either Johan had hallucinated being hurt or he''d been unconscious long enough for his wound to full heal. He needed visual clues as soon as possible. That and a weapon and a safe place to secure himself, he''d not felt hungry or thirsty nor felt the aching pain of an IV drop removed. ¡®I¡¯m not touching the blindfold. Not until you¡¯ve left the room. Thank you for helping me. I¡¯m glad that you know my name is Johan, perhaps next time you can tell me yours.¡¯ He shook his hands a few times to get some feeling in them before he reached out onto the floor and pushed himself up into a cross legged sitting position. He often preferred this pose and it would help him control his racing heartbeat. ¡®Stay there for now. When you hear the voice of the system then you¡¯ll know when it¡¯s safe to remove your blindfold. Good luck and remember my kindness would have been better. Welcome to your worst nightmare. My name. My name is He-. No. Master knows my name. You are a not. Not master. B-b-b-bye bye little fly! I¡¯m going to float away.¡¯ came the voice. Johan heard a heavy body movement off the ground and a door or gate opening before it lightly closed judging from the clicking sound. He knew better than to move my body just yet or try to remove his blindfold. The strength of the hand that pushed him down earlier was more than he could muster up to fight back against. Johan decided to take slow breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth, still sitting in his cross-leg position. He''d wait just a little longer, even though by this point he wanted to keep screaming. The pain inside his chest had been building slowly again since he took the knife to his shoulder. Touching his body he was wearing the same clothing he had worn on the way to work this morning, trousers, socks, shoes, even underwear. His crossed legs were beginning to ache as he rubbed his hands through his hair and scalp, his hair hadn¡¯t been cut or grown. He knew it was unlikely that he¡¯d been unconscious for long enough then. Hours at the most to take him to his present location. He¡¯d need to find out more details including why they left him fully clothed with one exception. Just no shirt. As soon as his hands reached towards the blindfold to remove it and take stock of his situations the voice called out again. A breath on the back of his neck chilled him. The same voice but clearer this time. More precise. ¡®You¡¯re doing a good, yes such a good job. Remember to wait for the system messages before taking off that blindfold. Believe me, you don¡¯t want to look at me. Not yet anyway. Welcome to Beneath Nightmare Dungeon. Player. Call me when you need me. M-m-m-aster.'' This time a cloth covered his mouth and he involuntary took in a deep breath of a damp, fruit like smell and Johan passed out once again before he could react. Book 1 Ch 4: Human Needs Johan woke up. For the second time. An involuntary gasp came into his mouth as his eyes slammed open and he breathed out deeply. A lingering taste on his throat and mouth nearly caused him to vomit but swallowing down his own saliva and forcing another breath into his stomach stopped the sensation. This time he was able to see his immediate surroundings. His eyes completely uncovered. There was no message from any system which he assumed was some type of controlling authority. Even a boss or manager who called themselves a System Controller as a job title. He wasn¡¯t wearing a blindfold nor did he take it off. All he knew that that he was awake again and this time he wasn¡¯t willing to be blind with some freak talking to him and telling him to be quiet. The chances were that he¡¯d been forcefully recruited for a private game scenario by someone rich, bored or crazy and his entire reaction was being recorded. The fact that the Director of Human Resources Assistant, Andy Darr, had ambushed him and was so forceful was another piece of evidence. The man had been desperate for him to agree without giving up details. Johan had been on enough corporate training days that he¡¯d eventually covered a decent number of topics. The fact that his work was highly valuable to the company meant that he¡¯d been able to have more personal lessons than the average employee which included corporate kidnapping. Step one in a hostage situation. Take stock of your surroundings. An office, he was stuck on the floor of a private office judging from the walls, floor and ceiling. A single door was closed and a large window had blinds pulled down, not a corner office but still likely belonging to a middle-manager. Sitting up he touched his shoulder. The injury was gone, so either he hadn¡¯t been dreaming the first time the crazy personal assistant had decided to force him to read out a card and been healed when he woke up or this was a nightmare hidden within several deeper layers. No. His eye. Something had happened to his eye. His hand moved to his left socket faster than he could imagine before he felt the softness of the bulge indicating to him that it was in his socket. Squeezing it tight and blinking several times before testing his vision with his other eye let him know that he was physically fine. Likely he used pepper spray or a chemical to cause temporarily blindness. All the talk from that freak about replacing my eyeball didn¡¯t make sense. Can¡¯t trust a crazy person anyway. Clearly pain wasn¡¯t going to wake him up. Johan still gripped the flesh hard between several fingers and squeezed to the point where it was mildly painful but with little result. The same as his eyeball, any injuries he had suffered were gone or had never been inflicted in the first place. Still, better to make sure than fall into another trap. Either that or he was suffering a complete psychotic breakdown and he was hallucinating this. All the horror films that he had watched had covered quite a few decent varieties after all and it usually stemmed from a single person going insane or trust into an insane situation. Calm it. In an emergency listen first and then act. Stop thinking for a second and act. Get hold of yourself Johan. Listen! He pushed his hearing hard and slowed his own breathing, even holding his breath for a few seconds to see if he could make out any sounds. Nothing. No sounds of movement, no crazy voices from either a personal assistant or a voice of an insane person. Better. Wait. Not even the chatter of a busy work office with colleagues rushing to their tasks or having a chat in the hallway. The only sound he heard was a buzzing sound above his heard as he raised it to see a flickering strip light. The walls were standard magnolia, with two pieces of furniture in the room with him. A desk and chair which he ignored for the time being. Unusual that it hadn¡¯t already been dealt with, in his old office and places of work, Johan usually found that when he reported repairs they were dealt with swiftly. Yeah, this situation wasn¡¯t right. At least there wasn¡¯t a voice or people in masks telling him he had joined a game or scenario to make money. Oh wait, that was from a film wasn¡¯t it. A horror film. Where the people in masks had been infected by a madness virus. And then the twist was¡­.no. I¡¯m losing myself. Focus. Calm your imagination. Johan grabbed hold of his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Trying to keep distracting himself from screaming aloud after the mysterious voice he lightly called out. His overactive imagination was going to make him actually go into meltdown if he wasn¡¯t careful. He opened his eyes and shifted his legs beneath him, crouched low enough to avoid being a target but fully prepared to move if necessary. He doubted that anyone was hiding behind the desk but he¡¯d rather be sure. Or they could be behind the door to the office. ¡®Hello? My name is Johan. Thank you for...letting me go free. Is there anyone else there?¡¯ called out Johan. ¡®I repeat. My name is Johan Wolff. I work for the Mediqo medical supplies company and...if anyone is hiding in this room do me a favour and get out here already. Or I¡¯m going to find you and beat the crap out of you.¡¯ said Johan. He tried to inject a little firmness in his voice. To be scared was to be a victim and he would fake the fact that he wasn¡¯t scared and prepared until he found himself in a little better control of his own situation. Losing himself and screaming his throat raw had its own time and place. Besides, if he was in an empty space with nobody around a little breakage of office furniture wouldn¡¯t hurt anyone. I¡¯m losing it. Two chance encounters and I¡¯m finally losing it. The flickering light above his head on the ceiling of the office created several shadows in the room which fuelled his imagination but it held steady. With no response he sat onto his legs and crossed them, taking his time to run through a quick yoga routine and roll his shoulders a little. He patted his stomach, there was a decent amount of muscle there but he had always been a bad fighter. He lacked the instinct to finish and all the violence and red mist before his eyes wasn¡¯t a match for someone who had trained professionally in martial arts. At least that was what his coach had told him before he had been politely asked to leave the premises. Thankfully, this time he was alone. He reached an arm behind his back and leaned into another stretch as he slowly got a better grip on his emotions. Alone. He was alone inside this office. No noises outside aside from the buzzing strip light above unless he happened to be inside a soundproof environment. As far as he knew anyway. His hands were free, his legs unbound but he had been placed in the same lying down position as before until he had moved himself into this sitting position. The voice hadn¡¯t lied about freeing him from his bonds, but the last word that it had muttered before it welcomed shook him. He was an unwilling participant in a game filled with seemingly crazy people. Possibly extremely rich bored crazy people but all the same he¡¯d need to get past his own hesitation and find an exit as soon as possible. His eyes ran down to his bare chest which had been covered in a rough material, nothing modern, more like a rough hewn sack for carrying potatoes. His body was still cold, not as bad as before but there was a chill in him. The same for his hair, he rubbed it but it was shorter. Not fully cut entirely short in a buzz cut but shorter, it¡¯d been trimmed down. Move Johan. You need to move. He didn¡¯t like to admit to himself but he was shaken up. No shirt last time and then someone had cut off part of his hair. Even though he¡¯d watched a fair few horror films in his spare time, they¡¯d always scared him a little. Partially the fact that he took them too seriously but also the thought that one day he¡¯d be involved in one. Get. Up. Uncrossing his legs Johan reached out a hand behind him to push himself onto his feet as his fingers touched cold metal. He pulled his hand straight back and shoved himself into a standing position using his legs. Standing up he did one last stretch with his hands raised above his head before he took stock of the entire room. The first place Johan checked was where his hand had touched a cold piece of metal. He saw a glint of red under the flickering light and reached down to find the same Kris knife which had been embedded in his shoulder and then left on the floor in his previous conscious state with the voice of the unknown crazy person. ¡®We meet again Mr Kris. Or would you prefer me to be informal and call you Miss Knife. Why, we barely even know each other yet and I¡¯m already talking to you like a person who¡¯s gone completely insane and enjoys talking to a piece of metal which has been inside my flesh. We know each other so well already.¡¯ Johan talked utter nonsense to himself, both of the benefit of anyone observing him and to let off a little steam. At this point it was either this or scream, and just in case there happened to be another mysterious voice ready to drug him back in unconsciousness Johan would rather avoid it. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. He held the Kris knife in one hand examining the blade as he compared it to the one in his memory of the man back in the office car park. The memory was too fresh and Johan needed to keep his mind off his present situation. He needed an excuse to focus on a particular pattern. His name came back to him. Andy. Andy Darr to be exact, the personal secretary for the Human Resources manager before he¡¯d lost his mind and came out with an elaborate plan on how he¡¯d framed Johan with a crime of some type. Corporate fraud on a massive scale it seemed which would have destroyed both his working reputation and ended up with legal charges. Of course, with enough money lawyers could be hired but although Johan had been paid a decent salary he wasn¡¯t one of the richest ones around. Buying his own apartment and paying off the high mortgage was a worse idea than he had thought. He should have taken the job offer working at Imperial Coffee instead. He¡¯d heard good things about the CEO of the company and how he genuinely cared for high talent employees. The blade. Focus on the blade. Drawing his attention back to his present situation, Johan rotated the blade around, careful to keep his fingers and palm away from the edges. It was either the same knife or an exact copy. Ornate styled with a patterned flame style hilt and letters in a language that he didn¡¯t recognise. The best he could approximate now that he had a little time to study it without fear of being stabbed by a crazy co-worker. The words were wrong, not that he knew that they said but they gave him a sensation of being constructed in a disorderly manner. The edges of the blade appeared blunt enough but Johan decided to test them on the edge of his shoe to test the sharpness. Nothing. Barely enough to even cut through the black leather of his office shoes. If this knife had been used previously by the mysterious voice to cut his bonds then it either had a trick to it or another tool had been used. He could use it to threaten people as a last resort but other than that it came across as a worthless item to keep a hold of. My shoulder. This thing cut straight through my shirt and into the flesh of my shoulder. Johan recalled that Mr Darr or Andy as he had been referred to by his boss has threatened him with the knife and driven it directly into human flesh. No mark had been left behind, not even a bruise. Regardless, it didn¡¯t matter in this situation. He¡¯d been threatened, kidnapped and then drugged unconscious to find himself inside a closed and partially dark private office. In this situation any weapon would do, but a sheath would make it even better. Time to examine his surroundings and get a better understanding of the situation. If he was meant to be a ¡®player¡¯ according to the mysterious voice than he¡¯d been following rules. And then he needed equipment to prepare for situations. In a way it reminded him of the corporate escape room experiences he¡¯d been on during his initial training in Mediqo. Human Resources under the severe direction of Miss Martinez had book not a room but an entire warehouse scenario where dozens of people where then locked inside and had to search for various, tools equipment and even bottles of water and snack bars within a given time limit before they were released. This was similar to that, except the crazy people. And the fact that he was standing inside an office with no shirt on thinking deeply to himself while holding an ancient style knife. The thought came to him that the type of knife that remained in his hand wasn¡¯t usually used for combat, it had a spiritual value as well. A religious symbolism which he racked his memory for but came up mostly blank. ¡®I¡¯m still standing here. What do you think Mr Kris? Shall I explore my surroundings or keep distracting myself and talking to myself like an insane person does? I think the first step would be to get out of this room. Yes it would.¡¯ said Johan. Taking a few steps and turning around a few times, the size of the room was average at best. The ceiling strip light continued to flicker with the buzzing noise becoming intermittent before finally silencing. Johan would have considered it as a type of audio torture if it had carried on. Or he¡¯d just find a way to break the light or pop out the light fixture. What surprised Johan was the near complete lack of furniture inside the office. There was a single desk next to the wall behind him along with a chair, the carpet was old and dark grey, verging on being worn out. Then a single large window with the blinds pulled down from the inside. There was no way that he was going to pull the cord and life them up abruptly. Just in case a bloodied face was waiting on the other side to give him a jump scare. The colours of the blinds matched the carpet, dark grey and worn. Stepping over to the desk Johan ran a finger across it with his free hand as the other carefully clutched onto the Kris knife. Lifting his finger closer to his eyes to get a better look he noticed there was a thick layer of dust. Old. Bending down Johan examined the desk in more detail. Under the dust was the same colour as the carpet and the blinds. The same for the fabric covered office chair. Dust on top with a dark grey underneath. ¡®I don¡¯t know who designed the colours of this office but it¡¯s basic enough to be bad. Grey blinds, grey carpet and matching colours for the furniture. I think Mr Kris that we can leave this place.¡¯ said Johan. When he¡¯d watched horror films, it always was the ones who acted a little crazy or different to be the ones to survive. Being crazy meant being unpredictable. Or at least, he¡¯d fake it unless he had a better idea. Besides, the taste inside his throat hadn¡¯t left yet. He needed a good drink of water or another beverage to clean out his mouth and rehydrate himself. His stomach wasn¡¯t hungry yet but this was only a matter of time. Unless he¡¯d been trapped inside a place where the ex-employees were meant to hunt each other down for food in a nightmare cannibal Human Resources directed scenario. He wouldn¡¯t put it past Miss Martinez to arrange that with her apparent love of horror films. He¡¯d only met her in person briefly but when she¡¯d talked about her favourite scenes and characters in films for twenty minutes before he¡¯d finally build up the courage to ask her why he had been called into her office he knew that she was odd. Her personal secretary was even worse. Johan turned his attention towards the desk and the drawers, or rather the complete lack of them. There wasn¡¯t even a space to store any personal items. It was as though the desk had been half-finished and then dumped into an office. He had a ritual knife, a bare upper body and a completely empty private office space which held nothing but dust, bad design and signs of total wear and tear. The next step would be going outside. Testing the tip of the Kris knife on the tip of his finger he found that it didn¡¯t resist flesh in the same way that it did with the tip of his office shoe and it slid under his skin drawing out a thin line of blood. ¡®Yeah. You cut me. You went ahead and did it Mr Kris, you actually cut me. I¡¯m going to need to vent in a little bit, and if the rest of this place is abandoned as here is I¡¯m going on a little office rampage. No, you¡¯re not allowed to join, you¡¯re a knife.¡¯ said Johan as he sucked his finger until the slow drip of blood had completely stopped. The taste of his own blood wasn¡¯t her preferred drink of choice but this was better for appearances. ¡®Yum. Yum. All for me and none for you Mr Kris.¡¯ said Johan as he mock shook his head. He¡¯d keep up his crazy act as long as he got answers. Or not. For all he knew there were hidden cameras inside this office space capturing his every movement with a whole bunch of rich assholes drinking fruit juice and eating gold leaf chocolate while they placed bets on him. Office horror. He was inside an office horror scenario. Oddly, Johan didn¡¯t recall it being a big part of the overall horror film market. He¡¯d need to do a quick search first and then he¡¯d be out into the unknown. The door. Try the handle and keep hold of yourself Johan. After a quick and brief search of the rest of the room, both physically and visually Johan had discovered two more items which he¡¯d completely ignored when he¡¯d first woken up. Mostly because both of them had blended with the dark grey, worn out carpet but also because he¡¯d been so busy trying to keep his mind occupied and not the fact that he was slowly growing hungrier and thirstier or scared out of his mind. The first item was a cloth, or at least he assumed it was a piece of cloth. Likely, it had been what the mysterious voice had draped over his body to keep him warm. Holding it with both hands he opened it and stuck a hand inside to find it was a sack, rough but not scratchy. As a test for the Kris knife he dropped it inside and found that it didn¡¯t cut through the bag or even leave a single scratch. The blade worked on human flesh but failed to cut through inanimate objects. Part of a mystery which he didn¡¯t care to solve for now but at least he had a workable weapon. As for using it effectively, he¡¯d just have to practice a downward stabbing motion when he had a little more spare time. The second item was even odder to Johan¡¯s eyes. It was thin rope but also not rope which had clearly been sliced into two pieces. The material was odd in his view, smooth but definitely organic. The dark colour looked familiar but he couldn¡¯t place it. Looping it through his belt Johan managed to attach the sack after tying it off with a rough knot. Enough so the Kris knife could sit safely inside. The fact that the Kris knife failed to cut through the bad wasn¡¯t of much concern to Johan as he attributed it to the strength of the material that the bag was made of. I¡¯m becoming a proper murder hobo. Wait, was that how they described it those films with fantasy elements? One of his ex-girlfriends had been heavily into that scene to the point that he¡¯d met her for dates and she was fully kitted out as an adventurer with props, makeup and costume. Part of the reason that they¡¯d broke up had been his lack of interest in the strange and fantastical. Johan appreciated good fiction. He¡¯d read more than a few books in different genres when attending corporate conferences or waiting at airports but to dress up as the characters with green skin and fake tusk-like teeth was a little excessive in his eyes. Christine. You would be proud of me. Maybe when I escape this place we can date again. Fully prepared with his hobo sack and his Kris knife Johan advanced towards his next challenge, the office door. Turning back, he grabbed the chair in the room and dragged it closer. If necessary he could use it to block a crazy person. Just in case. He reached for the handle. Don¡¯t let there be someone in a mask and a knife on the other side. Give me a break. Book 1 Ch 5: Office Chaos Turning the handle, Johan kept one hand on the office chair next to him as he opened it inwards towards him. The lights were brighter outside but he still didn¡¯t hear any noises or voices in the vicinity. Even straining the edges of his hearing, there was nothing there. Not even a buzzing light or machines working. Open the door Johan. Open the bloody door and step through. As he continued to psyche himself up Johan grabbed the handle and pulled the door wide open to find himself in a large office environment. Working ceiling lights gave him a clear view but the rest of the it was comparable to the previous office room he had just left. Grey carpets, magnolia floors with dust covering most surfaces. ¡®Hello? I¡¯m armed. With...a not-gun. Yeah. Hello?¡¯ called out Johan. Getting a verbal response wouldn¡¯t have been the best option but he¡¯d try and make sure. In these scenarios there would likely be other office workers just like him emerging from their own small private office rooms and the fun would begin. ¡®Yeah! Yeah! Let¡¯s do this! Yeah!¡¯ said Johan as he dragged the office chair through the door behind him and grabbing it with two hands threw it into the air as it slammed into a nearby dark grey cubicle fabric covered wall. If there was people around here then they¡¯d hear that. If not then he could grab another chair and smash it around a little. The heat in his chest had lessened a little from his actions and he wanted to come across as threatening not entirely crazy. He¡¯d need an edge in this competition or event to survive and escape. ¡®Hey! Challenger here! Ready to...fight and stuff!¡¯ said Johan, raising his voice a little. Keeping the door behind him at his back Johan waited for a response and heard nothing. Not even the lights above him flickered. His action in throwing the chair had helped him a little but he was in need of a relief which he¡¯d neglected for long enough. Johan didn¡¯t know how long he¡¯d been drugged unconscious for and if they had kept him hydrated and fed but he still wanted to urinate. There was a push on his bladder. Stepping back into the office he shut the door and moved sideways to one of the corners but not turning his back. Unzipping he relieved himself in the corner, putting one hand out to steady himself and avoid getting any of his own urine on his clothes. Better. Much better. Zipping back up and glad to see that his aim was so good that he hadn¡¯t even got any on his office black leather shoes Johan turned his attention back to the door and returned back outside into the larger office space. If any other ¡®players¡¯ were dropped off in that room he¡¯d be sorry for them, at least he woke up in a sterile place. His next step would be to explore this abandoned office space and see if he could get a drink of water from a water cooler, or even better find a working coffee machine and break room. And if there was a fridge with labelled names on the boxes then he¡¯d break them open and eat them anyway. The ultimate fantasy of anyone who¡¯d just been fired was to make a mess of the office. Or at least cause a little chaos. Johan figured that as long as he was noisy enough then he¡¯d be recognised and as a ¡®player¡¯ as the mysterious voice had said he¡¯d get some sort of messages from a computer system. Passing a few more cubicles Johan was surprised to see that not a single one of them contained any electronics or personal belongings. Just more chairs, near identical to the one he had initially thrown. He grabbed another one and swung it around nearly knocking down a cubicle wall before it flew into the distance. This time he heard a crash and a smashing sound. Either he¡¯d hit a private office window or it¡¯d smashed something else. As long as he made noise it was worth it. Deciding to let loose a little Johan assumed a gorilla like posture and choosing a random direction beat his bare chest and shouted even louder. ¡®GOT A CHALLENGER HERE FOR YOUR GAME! ALL TAKERS WELCOME!¡¯ shouted Johan. His throat was getting more perched now and he carried on past a few more rows of cubicles, his black office shoes kicking up grey dust off the floors. A glint in the near distance caught his eye and Johan saw an item which would have been common in his own office. A security camera and an intercom speaker mounted up on the ceiling just past a series of lights. A little hard for him to reach with a chair but not impossible. Increasing his speed Johan grabbed an office chair from a nearby cubicle and jammed it against the wall directly below the security camera and speaker. He stood on it and shoved his face towards the camera sticking out his tongue then he tapped it with his fingers. For all he knew this was simply an abandoned office building waiting for a new company and employees to move in. A good place for rich people to play their games especially if they owned the entire thing. ¡®Hey. I¡¯m bored. This isn¡¯t a nightmare. This is boring. Is your computer system meant to send me messages yet?¡¯ said Johan as he stared directly at the camera. Not having a response he reached into the makeshift sack attached to his belt and pulled out the Kris knife. The tip was still covered in a tiny portion of his own blood which had slowly dried and as it touched the edge of the camera a small flame appeared on the hilt of the blade. Johan scratched the camera lens as it activated, a red light came on and it moved towards him, the camera focusing on him. Jumping back off the chair Johan waved the Kris knife a few times before putting it back into the sack on his belt. The intercom gave off a high-pitched sound for a millisecond before an electronic voice boomed out. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. ¡®Finally, does the game begin now? Are you a computer system message? I¡¯m thirsty and getting a little hungry. Oh yeah, and I did my business back in one of your private office rooms. I have no idea which one given that everything in this place is pretty much identical. Just a heads up, if you¡¯re going to drug someone and bring them here maybe let them use the toilet before releasing them. Office Chaos? Seriously, that¡¯s the best name you can come up with? I don¡¯t even play video games and I could come up with a better name than that.¡¯ Having finally gotten an answer Johan was becoming annoyed. He¡¯d found a clue for this place and then the computer system had decided to break down. Not a big issue though, where there was one security camera and intercom there would be a thousand more. Taking hold of the chair he had been standing on, Johan took several steps back before swinging it around harder this time and letting it fly towards the direction of the security camera as he watched the fabric covered chair collide with it and the intercom smashing both partially off the ceiling. ¡®Hey! Hey rich people, spend your money fixing your computer systems. And what¡¯s a level zero player? I¡¯m level one million. Also, just because you have money doesn¡¯t mean that you get to call yourself a god. You can own a country and still not be a god. See you at the next security camera. And come up with a better name!¡¯ said Johan as he turned to walk away. A buzzing sound rang out as the security camera and intercom both reassembled themselves backwards until they were both in working order. The same electronic voice boomed out of the intercom again with a difference. This time, it was angry. Struggling not to laugh Johan bowed his head and shrugged his shoulders. Although the voice was electronic the tone that made it up wouldn¡¯t have sounded out of place for an otaku. Likely male. No other normal person would call themselves a god in an office environment. ¡®Oh, it talks. You know that I wouldn¡¯t break anything if you set out the rules for me. Like where are all the other level zero players for me to compete against? Also, you should hand out starting equipment. Water, food and a weapon. Basic rules for office death matches unless you expect me to fight to the death using staples and paper-clips.¡¯ said Johan. An unknown pressure forced Johan to first bow and then to his knees and finally on the ground. If he could have described it in the heat of the moment without biting off his tongue he would have called it a mixture of gravity and boss power. As it was he was forced to curl onto the ground of the grey carpet. As Johan stayed curled on the ground on the grey carpet, dust rubbing into his bare chest a wetness came onto his face. He managed to force a hand upwards to rub away his tears and his fingers came back reddened with blood. ¡®Not an avatar. You otaku piece of¡­¡¯ struggled Johan as the security camera moved its position and refocused on him. The voice coming from the speaker while still electronic took on a shriller tone. ¡®No...I don¡¯t...no. I¡¯m not. No. I just want to leave. All you need to do is point me to the exit and I¡¯m gone.¡¯ said Johan. said the electronic voice through the speaker. Johan was losing consciousness again he knew. The wetness on his face was running down his cheeks now and onto his body. Blood. He was weeping tears of blood. No pain though, not in the physical sense. He was thankful for that at least. Still, if the so-called office god wanted him to open his bag he¡¯d rather break. Torturing someone wasn¡¯t the best way to gain information. Besides he kept being called an avatar. Psychologically Johan knew he was taking on some serious damage. The best he could do was to ignore it and shunt it to the side. His body was limited yes, but he didn¡¯t feel pain. Only discomfort at being shunted onto the ground, likely through a drug in the air causing him to hallucinate, which meant that he was in control of the situation. ¡®No.¡¯ said Johan as he shifted a hand with some difficulty towards the makeshift bag attached to his belt. From the weight of it, the knife was shifting with his movement but hadn¡¯t yet cut through the material. said the electronic voice through the speaker. The camera zoomed in again directly on Johan¡¯s crouched form. Shifting his weight, Johan loosened the ties on the makeshift bag on his belt and slipped a hand inside grabbed the wrong end of the Kris knife as it cut several of his fingers lightly. Blood dripped from his fingers as it was rapidly absorbed by the blade. A warmth spread into his hand as the unknown form of pressure, likely a hypnotic signal against his will, began to lessen. His free hand steadied himself on the floor as he uncurled and pushed to his knees. said the same electronic voice through the office speaker as the lights above Johan¡¯s head and the rest of the office within his sight visibly flickered as half of them dimmed and shut off. Half-shrouded in darkness, Johan was able to make out a single red light on the security camera flashing as it faded to black. His hand inside the bag was beginning to ache as it increasingly warmed up. The previous pressure on him had entirely gone as though it had never been there. With his free hand he touched his face and as his fingers came back with flecks of dried blood on his cheeks. He¡¯d half been expecting the makeshift bag to glow with the amount of heat he was experiencing but when he pulled his hand out there was not traces of blood on his fingers. Only when he loosened the ties on the bag and peered inside he was able to make out a tiny red flame on the hilt before it vanished. ¡®Not a jerk. I¡¯m not the freak who decided it was a good idea to kidnap me and dump me in an abandoned office with no toilet in sight. Enjoy the scent of...and you¡¯re actually done talking. Hey otaku. OTAKU! Anyone still at home or you want to get back to your epic series?¡¯ said Johan. He¡¯d need to try and remember some of the specific insults which his ex-girlfriend Christine had called him related to fantasy style people but calling the person on the other side an otaku was easy enough. The emptiness of the abandoned office and the now-complete absence of sound concerned Johan. All the non-stop talk from an individual who was actually genuine in calling themselves a god. Despite the nonsense that he had been subjected to there was one face that Johan hadn¡¯t been called out on. Talking to his Kris knife. The individual hadn¡¯t mentioned that fact. Not even once. Sticking his hand into his bag just to slice up the tips of his fingers again, despite the complete lack of pain, wasn¡¯t a good plan Johan decided. His body was likely pumping enough adrenalin or he¡¯d been dosed with drugs prior to waking up inside the office which offset the sensations of pain and made him more susceptible to hypnosis or suggestion. He¡¯d still chat to his knife even if was in the bag though. It even had a name for him to talk with. Being seen as crazy would be his shield in this place. A real world horror film. ¡®Hi Kris, sorry for not taking you out of that bag but you heard the man. If that was a man. We¡¯ve got some friends on the way to join the fun. I think the safest place for you is staying right there while my fingers take a break. In short, I need to find food and water and get out of this place. Fast. Any ideas?¡¯ said Johan. The flickering light above his head acted as a reminder of his situation. ¡®Random direction it is old friend! Food and drink await me!¡¯ said Johan. Given that he¡¯d seen one active security camera and had an interesting if brief conversation with his mad jailer it was likely there was others. Time was not on his side. His stomach was beginning to growl and his throat told him that he needed water. Book 1 Ch 6: Return to Sender ¡®¡­...and that¡¯s how I ended up here. Without a shirt! I¡¯m likely suffering from dehydration and hunger by now though. An after effect of whatever drugs were used to knock me into unconscious. Twice!¡¯ said Johan as he walked through the darkened office. He should have been thankful that despite a large number of lights simply switching off, a portion of them flickered back into power. Either the place was experiencing a power cut or this was a deliberate attempt to scare him a little to make sure his meat juices tasted better when the crazy office cannibals broke out of containment to chase him across the empty, dusty cubicles and vacant office units. With one hand on his makeshift bag, Johan was certain that this place was a set-up for an escape room or a secret cabal of rich people with nothing better to do than hunt people. He continued to talk nonsense as he paused and tried his best to adjust his eyes to the partial absence of light and spot either a vending machine or a break room. His body needed food and water, even a snack bar in a tight spot and a can of the fizzy stuff would have helped him recover his wits a little. ¡®¡­.You think that that the freaks in charge of this space, oh sorry Kris, I mean the rich otaku losers would at least set up new players with a ration pack to keep them active for a little longer.¡¯ said Johan. Although the footsteps of his business shoes was muffled by the same familiar grey dusty carpet he had failed to stop all sounds from the movement of his body. Occasionally he¡¯d bump into a piece of office furniture and knock it backwards but given the complete lack of personal possessions and the sheer bareness it wasn¡¯t a big deal walking through the shadows. He was either walking under a light which was flickering or one that was turned off. The main issue for him was that there was no signs or any names of either individuals, departments and the office floor stretched onwards. Rows of empty grey cubicles all with the same basic chair and a desk. The occasional private office was the same, he¡¯d only dared to venture in several though as he had no interest in bumping into or finding another person waking up. In this place he had to assume that everyone was going to be hostile unless he had a better picture. Realistically Johan hoped that he was dreaming or inside a chemically induced coma. ¡®And...there¡¯s nothing here. Kris. All you ask for is a taste of my blood but you give me support regardless. Even if you can¡¯t talk back you¡¯re still my only hope in this place. Got any suggestions for finding food and drink before the so-called otaku god sends his goons after me? Or zombies. Cannibal zombies. No, radioactive zombies would be better. Then I¡¯d see the glow before they attacked me. I¡¯m¡­.I¡¯m talking to a knife inside a bag. Heh. I¡¯m a crazy man with no shirt...talking to a knife. Heh.¡¯ said Johan as he stopped walking and sat down heavily, his back resting against a grey-painted wall. ¡®Grey. Everything here is grey and dusty. And I¡¯m becoming...¡¯ muttered Johan as he rubbed his hands up and down his face. He left himself collapse a little, as he leaned back and crossed his arms across his bare chest. Cold, old and tired. He ran through a list mentally in his head for what humans needed for basic survival, food, shelter, clothing and living in a safe environment. He knew what isolation did to a person first hand. Mainly when he¡¯d been left by his parents to take care of himself when he lived in a country when he couldn¡¯t speak the language he¡¯d retreated into his own world. Talking to himself wasn¡¯t a good sign he knew but it was a coping mechanism. So was anger. He wasn¡¯t going to hurt himself to try and relieve his stress and anxiety. Not just yet, but he needed to vent his frustrations so he cupped both open hands to his mouth and let himself give out a primal shout. The amount of sheer anger coming amount would damage his throat and make it hard to talk but he needed this. Then he could plan a little better. ¡®I want to get out of here. I WANT TO GET OUT OF THIS NIGHTMARE! YOU LET ME OUT OF HERE OTAKU FREAK OR I¡¯LL FIND YOU! I¡¯LL FIND YOU AND USE MY BARE TEETH TO RIP THE SKIN FROM YOUR THROAT!¡¯ screamed out Johan. His throat was raw and painful but having allowed himself to vent, the extremes of emotions which he¡¯d been forced to repress deep within were loosened. Slumping backwards he rubbed his eyes again before forcing himself to stand up. There was one type of violence which he hadn¡¯t tried yet in this place, throwing around a few office chairs and kicking down a few cubicle walls, even slamming the private office doors had helped but it was burning through far too much energy. It hadn¡¯t even occurred to him before but he¡¯d give it a go. The last option that he had was the knife that easily cut through flesh but was blunt against anything not organic. Not an option. Never an option. Ever. Don¡¯t go there. Standing up, Johan loosened the ties on the makeshift bag on his belt and pulled out the Kris knife. His fingertips tingled as he made sure to grip the handle and withdraw it carefully to avoid any further cuts or blood loss. His body by now should have given him direct indications of physical exhaustion, at least from minor blood loss and the amount of exercise that he¡¯d experienced throwing chairs around but although physically he was fresh it was his mind that took the burden. Going to try and avoid talking aloud to myself. Mental note: Talking to a knife is only a good strategy if other people are around. Being careful not to let the knife touched his exposed skin he tried on a nearby office chair, the edge this time cutting through the fabric without difficulty. The action surprised Johan, as if it was sharp enough to cut through a chair then it didn¡¯t make any sense to carry it inside a makeshift cloth bag. Even one that he had made with several odd-sized lengths of cut rope-like material which had previously tied him up and a piece of fabric draped over his bare skin when the mysterious crazy person had talked to him. Great. The knife can cut through non-organic matter. Time to plan ahead. He¡¯d never tried it personally but he had heard of the concept of carpet armour. Or stuffing layers of newspapers beneath his shirt to give him a degree of protection. The only issue was that he didn¡¯t have a shirt or even a jacket to stuff it under to protect his body. He could pack it into his office trousers but they were already beginning to show signs of significant wear and tear. After placing the Kris knife down on the floor Johan removed both of his shoes and socks before he realised that despite his apparent lack of desire for food and drink he was indirectly being affected. ¡®I¡¯m sitting in an abandoned office thinking about cutting carpet from the floor. And a crazy voice from the speakers told me his friends are on the way. Unless they¡¯re carrying food and drink I need a sign, a place to get anything to eat and a place to recharge a little.¡¯ said Johan to himself aloud. The effect of the drugs that whomever had kidnapped him and eventually his energy levels would begin to rapidly drop and he¡¯d be unable to put up any sort of fight. He put his socks back on his feet although this time he tied both shoes together and laced them around his neck. He¡¯d be better served muffling his footsteps inside this place rather than being killed or hunted by crazy office cannibal workers. Or paid security guards wearing costumes and masks. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Johan had several options at this point, he could try and find a security camera or another ceiling mounted intercom and try and interact with the crazy otaku who considered themselves god of this duty, empty office floor. He could stay put and wait to be found or let himself be captured of worse. Or he could find a place to hole up, take stock of his inventory, find anything that could be useful and then fight back. Not that any of this made sense to him. If this was meant to be a torture situation or he was meant to be harvested for his body parts or as entertainment for a bunch of rich people than they had been pretty relaxed so far. ¡®I¡¯m a player...in a game. And they called me an avatar. Pretty sure that was the voice of a man although given that it was electronic they were running it through a machine. This has got to be the laziest form of crazy person torture scenario that I¡¯ve ever seen. Who in the eighteen layers of Chinese hell dumps a person and ignores them? Death through starvation and mental breakdown. Pathetic.¡¯ said Johan as he tested his footsteps on the carpet. No noise. Not even a single one as he raised his foot and brought it down loudly in a stamp. ¡®Sound absorbing materials. Right. Wait¡­¡¯ said Johan. After taking a look around to see if there were any noises in the distance Johan took the Kris knife in his hand and cut the carpet and did it slowly to test his theory. When he¡¯d cut out a squarish piece large enough for his fingers to slip through his was able to rip out a large chunk of it but there still wasn¡¯t a single sound. Dust spread across his fingers and hands as he dropped the piece on the carpet. The Kris knife cut through the fabric easily enough but the longer that he did it the more the level of resistance increased. Putting a single fingertip on the tip of the blade it cut through the surface of his skin and a tiny light-reddish flame appeared emerging from the hilt. Almost dropping the knife onto the floor, Johan steadied himself and examined the Kris knife in greater detail. The writing still made little sense to him but he¡¯d only taken time to examine it the one time when he¡¯d been inside the office. Two letters stood out to him, he was certain that it wasn¡¯t any language that he¡¯d seen before but the knowledge of what they meant burned itself into his brain. PG. ¡®Parental guidance? Poppy Grace? You don¡¯t talk do you Mr Kris? Please don¡¯t.¡¯ said Johan. The flame was nearly transparent to his eyes but it emitted a light glow around him. Ignoring it he held the blade sideways and sliced it cleanly across the edge of the fabric covered cubicle wall, despite growing resistance and the fact he had to put in more effort to cut the further he went not a single sound appeared to his ears. Johan realised that he could shout and scream inside this place and throw all the office chairs that he wanted. Even smash in windows, take apart desks and kick down cubicle walls. Even rip the carpets and walls apart but not a single person would hear him. Nobody. Aside from the crazy person who had trapped him inside his place and then talked nonsense and blamed him. Johan was certain that the mysterious voice was different to the one on the intercom though, they had been a whole lot more unstable. The one in the office floor who was watching him on the camera and who kept the flickering lights on was sane but delusional. Action...action needs a full stomach. If this was going to be an entertainment show for rich people, they wouldn¡¯t have thrown him into an abandoned office floor just to starve to death. Then again, it was likely them who had framed him and paid off the Human Resources Director¡¯s Andy Darr who forced him to accept the words on the business card. Rats in a maze still need cheese. Realistically the Kris knife had functions or a vital part of the game which he hadn¡¯t been able to work out yet. When he¡¯d cut his fingers on it earlier the dried blood on it had activated the camera and intercom and alerted whomever was watching to his presence when walking around, calling out and throwing a few chairs hadn¡¯t. Even relieving himself inside the corner of the private office had gone entirely unnoticed. No cameras inside the offices. They can¡¯t track me inside the offices. Blood. The knife needs my blood. Gathering his thoughts and narrowly avoiding his tied together office shoes kicking him in the face, Johan stood up from the office corridor when he had been crouched. He considered stuffing the piece of carpet back into the floor but managed to narrowly squash it into his makeshift bag attached to his belt. The flickering lights above his head stabilised for several seconds as the near transparent flame on the bottom hilt of the Kris knife died out but Johan paid them little attention. He¡¯d read the Monkey¡¯s Paw story before when he¡¯d found an old copy tucked away at home when his parents had been away on one of their business trips and left him cooped alone at home. The blade which had been lodged into his shoulder by Andy Darr could be a similar type of artifact, it took his blood and stopped his hunger and thirst. The card had read for him for him to enter a place called Beneath Nightmare Dungeon and he¡¯d heard of portal fantasies where the main character ended up in another magical realm different to their own. Transported him to a different place. Either that or he¡¯d been kidnapped and¡­.he¡¯d run out of clues. Standing around near constantly talking to himself to try and rationalise the situation wasn¡¯t going to work. Turning the Kris knife around he contemplated giving it another taste of his blood to see if the tiny burst of flame came back again but decided that he¡¯d be better off experimenting with it lightly inside an office. At least then he could block the door with a desk and a chair and take an inventory stock of his items and even grab a bit of sleep. ¡®A magical knife. Makes sense given that you¡¯re ceremonial blade and all but the fact that you need my blood to operate gives me the opinion that you¡¯re actually a vampire knife in disguise. Or you were used in rituals to kill a thousand vampires and you¡¯ve inherited a portion of their power. I think...I¡¯m losing my mind. HEY, DO YOU HEAR ME? I¡¯M LOSING MY MIND! ARE YOU HAPPY NOW! DOES THIS ENTERTAIN YOU WHEN I¡¯M LOSING MY MIND! BRING IT ON!¡¯ Johan screamed out the last few sentences as his breathing increased and a warm pressure inside his chest began to build. Getting stressed wasn¡¯t going to solve this situation. The fact that nobody even responded to him was what made him more upset. Humans were creatures of reason and instinct and right now his instincts were telling him to find a place to secure and hide. ¡®Office. Find an office. Any office. There!¡¯ said Johan. Wearing his socks, shirtless with his business shoes hung around his neck, a makeshift bag tied around his business suit trouser belt and holding a red Kris knife Johan ignored the flickering lights and the claustrophobic environment it was causing and walked into a random vacant office and closed the door before clicking the lock. The room smelled of urine. Book 1 Ch 7: Knock Knock Johan knew the smell. It came from exactly the same corner in which he had been earlier, the precise time was harder to tell though. He didn¡¯t have any means of tracking how long he had been in this place, at least an hour likely but it could have been longer. ¡®Heh. Good trick. No idea how you pulled it off but that¡¯s a funny trick. I get to sleep in a room or take a break in a room that stinks of my own piss. Not funny...I don¡¯t¡­.I don¡¯t¡­¡¯ started Johan before he collapsed on the dusty carpeted interior. His tied together shoes pulled hard on his neck. A lack of energy, the post-shock of adrenalin and the exhaustion of however he had been inside this office space all hit him at once. Turning his head to the side he saw either a perfect duplicate of the same office desk which he had searched through earlier. The same chair was there as well, grey walls and blinds. Above his head the light had stopped flickering but he hadn¡¯t been paying attention to it until it fully changed. Half of it was brightly lit and the other half was pure darkness. ¡®Good...more tricks. I could do with some light. How about a cold drink and a protein bar?¡¯ said Johan. He was thankful that he¡¯d fallen down holding the Kris knife downwards so it had dug deep into the grey dusty carpeted floor. This time it hadn¡¯t cut into his skin and gotten the opportunity to draw his blood. Lying flat on his back he aimed his legs to kick the office chair so it ended up in front of the door. He didn¡¯t know why he hadn¡¯t just hunkered down inside the room and locked himself inside, it was a defensible location or he could have climbed onto the desk and tried breaking his way out of the light fixtures into the floors above. A light sound broke the silence as Johan lay there. He barely noticed it, so fixated on his own thoughts that it came again. Harder this time but turning his head the light above him transfixed his attention. The ceiling fixture light flashed. Then stopped. Then flashed again. Before it turned off leaving him in pure darkness. The sound was louder this time and in the immediate absence of light Johan heard it. The light above his head began flickering again but dimmed as though threatening to entirely turn out. Knocking. There was someone knocking on the outside window. Taking a deep breath in Johan tensed up, holding his breath as the knocking sound carried on but moving. Across and up the outside window and then it stopped. Johan released a breath and heard the handle move. Then a knocking on the door, this time more violent shook him up. His hand still gripping tightly onto the Kris knife embedded in the floor he pulled it off and pulled his shoes off from around his neck and let them fly and hit the door. The door handle shifted again as Johan heard another sound, one that he was familiar enough with during the various times he¡¯d watched horror films. Moaning. The knocking on the door came again, this time from the office window and also from the door. More than one of whatever people had been hired were outside. Likely people in costume or more workers like himself. There were a few too many variables to focus on so Johan simply decided on the simplest type of common office monster. ¡®Zombies. Great. This is all kinds of messed up. Fine, if I¡¯m going to die then let¡¯s do it with a final fight.¡¯ said Johan. He stabbed the knife into the carpet below his feet and sliced through a decent section before ripping it up with two hands and holding it out in front of him as an impromptu shield. He¡¯d at least be able to push the zombie back before it took a decent bite out of him. Rethinking his strategy, Johan cut even more carpet from the floor and stuffed a few thinner pieces down his business suit trousers. He¡¯d used protection before and it wasn¡¯t a bad idea in case he was bitten in the wrong area. At least that was the general idea. Stuffing pieces of carpets down his trousers was becoming uncomfortable and he would have preferred to pack it underneath a shirt to make some makeshift armour. Holding his Kris knife in one hand and his rolled up length of carpet with the other Johan briefly considered drawing more of his blood with the dagger. Slashing it across the palm of his hand to give it more blood would result in a much larger flame which would have a greater effect but he wasn¡¯t clear on what it would accomplish aside from making the metal brighter. The scent of flesh blood for whatever was beyond the door to the office could also increase the chances of him being rushed and Johan had seen too many horror films involving zombies or humans who had been infected with viruses and fungus to offer that up. Johan also reminded himself that the fact that he was even considering using a knife to cut his own flesh further was a completely insane idea. So was the fact that he was still standing in front of a locked door which he hadn¡¯t even thought of barricading with the desk or the chair inside the room. I¡¯m already a little bit mad then. No more cutting though. At least not on my flesh. Your turn. Psychologically preparing himself the moans outside the door increased in volume and this time there were what sounded like multiple hands smacking themselves on the glass and the door this time. Johan had no clue exactly why they hadn¡¯t just smashed their way through the windows or the door but he supposed that there was a hidden camera inside the room recording his actions while a whole bunch of rich people or sadists drank fruit juice and watched his erratic behaviour. He¡¯d give them a decent show. Flipping the Kris knife so it was facing upwards Johan took a step forward and opened the lock on the door before taking several steps back. When they decided to rush him he¡¯d be prepared and could take down at least one or two until he was incapacitated again and brought to the next place of this nightmare. ¡®Yeah. YEAH! LET¡¯S GO! COME ON! LET¡¯S GOOOO!¡¯ shouted Johan as the door swung open with force and slammed into the wall causing dust to rise from the grey carpet and the wall behind. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. A single figure stood in the doorway. Large enough that Johan couldn¡¯t even see their head, only an expensive business suit with a massive physical build. Hands large enough to crush his entire head in one palm flexed enclosed inside black leather gloves. A pair of heavy black boots which had been polished and gave off a bright enough shine which made no sense to Johan. The entire outfit of the giant gave off a bright glow even though behind him the light remained half on and half off. Before Johan could take a step back an enormous fist smashed through the top of the doorway causing dust and debris to fall down and a voice rang out. The same electronic voice that Johan had heard earlier from the office intercom but this time it came from the huge suited figure blocking the door. Stumbling backwards Johan held the Kris knife out. He was prepared to fight and use his blade and carpet shield but judging by the size of the individual in front of him, he didn¡¯t know if they¡¯d been grown or were a mechanical prop. No regular human could grow to that size without breaking their own spine. The figure remained outside the room despite damaging the top of the doorway. Moving faster than he thought possible he backed away towards the desk in in the room and crouched behind it on the other side. A hand came sweeping down and picked up Johan¡¯s tied together shoes which had been thrown at the door before and threw them back at the wall behind Johan. The sudden impact made him duck down further and he caught a glimpse of a greyish bald face wearing black sunglasses and a pork pie hat. The face angry with a sneer before it moved back through the doorway and stood straight swaying and clenching and unclenching its hands into fists. Partially bolstered by the fact that he was now behind a wooden desk and the fact that despite the figure showing anger and that it was a sheer tank of an individual it¡¯d done nothing more threatening to him than punch through the top of the doorway, shout and throw his own shoes back at him Johan responded. ¡®Not like I had a choice. Freak. You can tell your rich bosses that they need to build toilet facilities in their nightmare dungeon. No food, no drink and anyone you dump in here is going to starve to death. You want to know what was in my bag? This knife. Come and take it you overgrown freak!¡¯ said Johan. He was half-expecting the huge figure to smash through the rest of the doorway or through the wall as an alternative. Given the size of the figure and it¡¯s obvious strength he doubted that he¡¯d been able to do much aside from try to aim for the head with this knife. As long as he was able knock off the sunglasses, even getting a blade into an eyeball could give him time to get past and out of the doorway. Johan experienced an urge to use the edge of the blade on his fingers again, to let it partake in a small amount of his blood in exchange for a boost. An outside force or influence was affecting him judging from how the urge grew, that or Johan was simply experiencing the beginnings of a complete psychotic breakdown. <¡­.You are toxic. A total toxic individual who wants to drain all my creativity. I don¡¯t know which Player God sent you to mess with me but I¡¯m not playing your game. Even that...where did you get that knife from? Give it to me. I need to examine it. Are you even an avatar? No way should you have gotten hold of base system code. A player? No, I wasn¡¯t notified of your arrival and besides I still need to make sure my scenarios are up and running. Hey. Hey are you even listening to me? I need to see that knife.> said the figure. Shaking his head Johan held the knife higher up. ¡®No way. You want it then you need to come and get it. What do you mean Player God? Aren¡¯t you a so-called god? You want to torture me some more? I¡¯m dying from lack of food and drink here. You want to talk? Give me something to eat and drink.¡¯ said Johan. He kept his back slightly away from the wall just in case another figure decided to smash through it behind him and grab him. Negotiation was a valid tactic but his body and mind were getting harder to focus, without using his blood on the knife he was becoming fully aware of how drained and tired he actually was. Given the height of the doorway, Johan reckoned that the figure was around 2.3 metres high at least. Not many humans could grow that large without their own bones breaking so likely this was either a prop or a construct used to scare people into getting the results that they wanted. said the figure. Lying about the nature of the situation was a thought that Johan swiftly discarded. If he had been in a position where he could have successfully escaped or had a decent chance of getting past the massive figure then he would have tried. He¡¯d tried to express himself but the figure hadn¡¯t been listening to him during their earlier conversation with the office camera and intercom, if it had been the same person. Judging from how they were speaking complete nonsense which to his ears came across as a fantasist who imagined that they were living in a video game world they were severely delusional. ¡®Food and drink first. Then we talk. Or the knife doesn¡¯t move from my hand. Unless you want to risk sending in one of your little discards to try and take it. I¡¯ll compromise. I¡¯m going to hold this little knife but rest my hand on the table and in return you give me some space, back away from the door at least five metres with your freak of a body and give me something to eat and drink. All I want to do is leave this place and you can keep the knife and whatever else as long as you let me leave.¡¯ said Johan. Forcing a sense of control into his voice as though he was talking back to the Human Resources Director as he had earlier today from his perspective, Johan forced a smile on his face and imitated the same vacant gaze. Keep it calm and try and work this out Johan. Steady with crazy people. ¡®Food and drink and we talk. You got me, I¡¯m actually a player. Someone messed up and made a mistake and sent me to the wrong place. Not an avatar.¡¯ said Johan. said the figure. As though to prove its point one of its hands swept up and brushed the debris on the impacted area above the doorway causing even more broken remnants to fall onto the carpet below. Still behind the desk, Johan quickly ran through his options. He could fight or talk but his body was beginning to become weaker as time went on, he assumed that whatever drugs had been used to bring him into this place were beginning to wear off or his body was simply thirsty and hungry beyond his normal tolerance. Aside from an ache in his stomach and a marginally parched throat he couldn¡¯t remember how long he¡¯d been here, let alone the last time he¡¯d rested. His mind was beginning to fray even further. Talking, he¡¯d have to talk. Even to give him a little more time to work out a solution. Stabbing the Kris knife into the surface of the desk to get the attention of the figure standing just beyond the office doorway he pulled himself up, steadying his weakening body upright with one hand. Then he responded. ¡®Andy Darr stabbed with me with this blade. Are you the owner of Beneath Nightmare Dungeon?¡¯ questioned Johan as his thoughts became fuzzier. Book 1 Ch 8: Drink your Fill said the huge figure. His head began to weigh heavier and sag forward as Johan experienced a wave of dizziness rush through him. The hand that was steadying him on the office desk gripped the edge tighter to keep him upright. said the figure. The shadows behind the door made it hard to work it out but the massive humanoid had waved a hand above the doorway and the broken pieces had begun to reassemble themselves as debris and dust flew back in reverse order. ¡®You didn¡¯t answer me.¡¯ Johan said. He was bold enough to try and get a few more answers and in no way was thing going to be a deal. Being put unconscious twice was enough for him, besides, the figure would either have to physically enter the room or pump sleeping gas through the air to knock him out. He just needed to keep his body steady for a bit more to get a better deal. Two favours. The freak offered two favours and only told me one, as well as ignoring my question about Beneath Nightmare Dungeon. The voice went off again, taking Johan¡¯s silence as an apparent vocal agreement. said the voice. ¡®The knife. I take the knife with me.¡¯ said Johan as he rested one hand upon the hilt, careful not to touch the rest of the blade with his hand. The other one only barely keeping him upright as a deep shudder ran through his body. The massive figure simply stared and waved another hand as the office furniture, cubicle walls and other minor damage which Johan had caused in his outrage spun through the air and set back into original positions. The lack of effective lighting and general tone of lack of use remained the same though. Good trick. For a freak. A huge freak at that. At this very moment, Johan missed the vibrancy and life within his own office, even if he did have to talk to a Human Resources Director deciding to talk to him about horror films. If it was her then she¡¯d probably have loved this place and even had a hand in designing it just to mess employees even further. Even the groups of employees both mocking and hating him before he entered the elevator had life in them. Johan didn¡¯t realise at this moment how much he had actually enjoyed working around others. Not working with them because they failed to see their own stupid mistakes and got angry when he corrected them but around them. I think I¡¯m getting lonely for the company of other people. Johan wasn¡¯t usually this nostalgic and considered that his emotions in this place could easily have been pushed to the edge by pumping chemicals into the airflow through hidden vents. The entire office floor was barren enough that he wouldn¡¯t even have a clue where to find it. Or they had drugged him up and the massive figure in front of him waving hands like a conductor was simply a mock illusion which his brain was desperately trying to make real or sense of. He wasn¡¯t stupid, technology was becoming more advanced on Belphus each and every single day. ¡®Food and drink. How much are you offering? I don¡¯t want to meet any more freaks, not after the one with the voice who didn¡¯t show their face. All you need to do is send me back home. I¡¯m not meant to be here. I¡¯m waiting for a system message still. You heard of that? Do you work for the system?¡¯ said Johan. A sound rang out. A type of harsh rasping which hurt Johan¡¯s ears but made him more concerned than he was previously. The strength of it was causing the walls of the room to mildly shake. He didn¡¯t realise it was laughter until he connected it with the shaking of the massive humanoid figure just past the doorway. said the voice. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡®You know me. You made me come here.¡¯ said Johan. Another deep shudder ran through him. Either the presence of this individual or the stresses upon his body were beginning to pile up. He had a matter of minutes before he was going to either collapse to the floor or lose control of his body. said the figure. Johan had the idea that if he refused then the crazy person on the other side of the camera and intercom might decide to floor the entire office floor with gas and likely dump his unconscious body inside a room called High Fantasy dressed up like an elf. The massive figure in front of him could easily be a remotely piloted robot or drone and made to look threatening with smoke and mirrors. The space around him was pretty plain to be honest, he could have described it was as a hundred office buildings he¡¯d been to work in before. Except the lack of lighting and the complete absence of human contact. That was strange. Am I losing it? I¡¯m losing it. He looked around the office space, at the least he could find somewhere with food and water and even a place to actually rest. He¡¯d heard that fantasy types like to stuff themselves and the voice which either controlled the massive figure which clearly wasn¡¯t human was pretty good. His throat ached and his empty stomach was beginning to burn. The clothes that he wore were beginning to smell and he was certain that when he had chosen to relieve his bladder in one of the empty office spaces the urine had spilled onto his shoes. Or he had stepped in it. ¡®Look, I¡¯ve had a seriously bad day and despite the fact that I could be hallucinating all of this right now and I¡¯m actually inside an ambulance on the way to a half-decent hospital I need a drink. I don¡¯t want a promise of unlimited food and drink. How about this, you send me to a place with actual water in. Clean water. I don¡¯t want to be dropped in a fantasy castle moat or whatever you and your...fellow gods think would be funny. Oh and thanks for tidying up. You said that you like to focus on contemporary adventures? You did a good job right here, I assumed it was an office where the workers went crazy and had to kill each other for a promotion or they were trapped inside and had to fight for chocolate bars and coffee.¡¯ said Johan. His body was only growing weaker by the moment and there was only so much that he could keep talking. The weight of the tied shoes around his neck was beginning to annoy him so he took them off his neck and threw them to the carpeted floor of the office space. Johan could always buy a new pair of shoes and walking around in socks wasn¡¯t the worst idea if he needed to conserve energy. As long as he had the Kris knife in the bag tied around his belt he was good. ¡®The uh, system told me that I needed to beware the player-gods. So if you are in fact a player-god then mighty god, send me to a place where I can drink enough clean water so my thirst is gone once more. Is how you pray? I don¡¯t think we had any gods back on Belphus. There was superhumans once but they all died when some alien took back his power. I forget my history.¡¯ said Johan. The massive figure kept its distance from Johan and the lack of lighting simply held almost all of it in shadow. Johann preferred it that way. The further way it stayed the happier he was. He had the Kris knife but little else to actually defend himself. He¡¯d just thrown his shoes away but he doubted he had the strength to swing them at someone to cause any effective damage. Shoeless and shirtless. At least I have socks, trousers and underwear. Huh, despite not having a shirt I haven¡¯t felt cold. At all. Side effect of the Kris knife? said the voice from the massive figure. Johan thought for a moment before he did it. His body was barely standing up as it was, either the drugs, ordeal up to now, the lack of food and water but the strength the Kris knife held within was beginning to wane. There was no way he was going to keep cutting himself just to stay awake. He shut his eyes and mouth and hoped that the blow to his head wouldn¡¯t kill him from the figure. said the voice. His feet began to sink into the office carpet beneath his feet as Johan took in a breath and kept his eyes shut. Then the sensation increased in speed as his body simply slid through the floor and vanished. Johan¡¯s own rapid breathing was one of the last sounds that he heard as he left the dusty office floor behind him. The massive figure sighed and looked around. Book 1 Ch 9: Human Room ¡®Hel-.¡¯ started Johan before he stopped. He¡¯d been down this road before and talking aloud wouldn¡¯t be much fun and someone decided to reply in the darkness or blow breath on his neck just for a shock reaction. He shoved aside all thoughts of the voice that was trying to desperately whisper to him in the darkness as he simply sat down and held the Kris tightly in one hand gripped tightly. Yeah. Come on then. First person that touched me gets cut. Cut cut. Cutcutcut. Regardless he was unable to make it out clearly and visibly ignored it as he experienced the same sensation as he had earlier More teleportation and then yet another freak decides to talk to me, threaten me or talk like an insane person. No, wait, I¡¯m being negative. Why can¡¯t it be all three? I¡¯m going to find you Mr Darr. Me and my knifey Kris knife. I...I think I¡¯m going a little bit crazy. th Johan had no idea why the volume from the voice suddenly ramped up but it visibly hurt him. A wetness came on his face as he realised that he had either been crying or blood was leaking from his eyes. Not that he wanted to lick the wet liquid. His hands certainly weren¡¯t clean after relieving himself and he didn¡¯t know if pepper sauce had been dumped on his sitting body as a joke. A rush came through his body as energy flowed into him and all his injuries and discomforts washed away as a rush entered him. The discomfort he had experienced on the office floor, his emotional state was turned back to when he had been inside his former office headquarters, mildy uncomfortable but accepting. ¡®I¡¯d like to be given something to wea-¡¯ started Johan as he tried to talk before he entered a brand new space. I¡¯m not hungry. Not thirsty. This isn¡¯t drugs. No. Someone used an IV drip on me and then set me into position like a puppet. A human puppet. This film or prank is getting even more crazy. Johan refused to move. His legs didn¡¯t experience any signs of fatigue so likely he hadn¡¯t been standing inside this small plain white room for long. The lack of the only weapon from his hand was an issue though. But he had possessed it. He was certain. Someone took my knife or hid it. I¡¯m pretty sure they didn¡¯t stick it down my trousers. A voice called out from beyond the white wall. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡®¡­player? No, you got a mistake here. I didn¡¯t choose to enter as a player. No. A man called Andy Darr sent me here through trickery. I can send him here if you just let me go.¡¯ ¡®¡­and that is why the System will reward your efforts with equivalent prices. Do you have any questions new player? Please, I am here to assist all enquires during your transition and entrance to this simulated dungeon. Hello? Mr Wolff?¡¯ Wait. My name. They know my name which means that they¡¯re away of exactly who I am. Right. Giant statues of people. Not interested in the others. Ideally this place has an exit room at last. ¡®This room is considered the human room. I was originally tasked with designing an initial welcome room to facilitate a wide range of different tastes and desires. As it is currently in neutral mode would you prefer a different version? We like to welcome all fresh players who may or may not be experiencing a degree of confusion on their arrival. ¡¯ ¡®Hello¡­.? I¡¯m Johan. How do you know my name? No, in fact how do to know my last name? Are you hostile? I was told that I was meant to be sent a place called High Fantasy. Not that I need to. Back home would be just fine of the next parrallel dimension. That was a very old joke by the way.¡¯ ¡®This room is considered the human room. I was originally tasked with designing an initial welcome room to facilitate a wide range of different tastes and desires. As it is currently in neutral mode would you prefer a different version? We like to welcome all fresh players who may or may not be experiencing a degree of confusion on their arrival. ¡¯ You just said this. Twice now. ¡®Greetings human, welcome. I am a guide designated by the System for the introduction.¡¯ ¡®I don¡¯t recall giving my permission for this.¡¯ said Johan. ¡®Yes, once you clicked on the yes button you were given a short taster to offer you familiarity with the setting.¡¯ ¡®Wait, wait. I never clicked anything. I mean there was a card given to me by a...wait. Was I meant to click something? Like on a computer¡¯ ¡®Hello? I said that I didn¡¯t agree to anything. I¡¯d like to back home now.¡¯ ¡®Greetings human, welcome. I am a guide designated to you for purpose of the introduction. By choosing to participate you will undertake quests¡¯. ¡®Can you do anything about your appearance? I don¡¯t like talking to a blank face.¡¯ ¡®Yes. This is the human room, designed to accommodate a range of personalities to make you feel more settled.¡¯ ¡®Eyes. And a mouth, can you cope with providing those? Oh and a nose, please. It¡¯s a bit hard to talk to you in at you if you don¡¯t have those, the hair doesn¡¯t matter. I don¡¯t feel good talking to a blank face.¡¯ ¡®Let¡¯s stick with blank features, shall we? And forget about changing anything else, just keep it neutral.¡¯ Johan spoke hastily, the words rushing out of his mouth. ¡®As you wish Mister...Mister...¡¯ said the neutral voice and now thankfully faceless, green-robed dummy. ¡®I have a few questions. Able to answer them?¡¯ ¡®Correct, new player. The System facilitated me to answer your questions. I am a direct manifestation of the Dungeon Operating System which has been running in power preservation mode for a long, long time.¡¯ ¡®Great, so can you send me back home right now? Wait. Dungeon Operating System?¡¯ ¡®Correct, new player. The System facilitated me to answer your questions.¡¯ Best to ask his questions and get away from this place as fast as possible. From his perspective would be better to live longer in hell than try and break into the entrance to heaven. Besides, the white lights here hurt his eyes and just felt wrong to his physical senses. ¡®¡­¡­I¡¯m going to try this again. Can you send me home right now?¡¯ said Johan. ¡®Correct, new player. The System facilitated me to answer your questions.¡¯ replied the mannquin. ¡®You mentioned a dungeon. In need to do quests to leave right? Is that what you call it? How do I finally leave this place?¡¯ ¡®When you finish your first, no, final dungeon quest. All dungeons are based on your current stats. The difficulty level increases in turn. You have been classified as Level Zero; class choices will be unlocked upon successful completion of your first quest. The Dungeon Oper-Operating Sys-system will keep you updated on your progress after this introduction.¡¯ ¡®Right, how about benefits? Are you going to help me at all to complete these so-called dungeons? I mean quests. Or are there different types of dungeons? Like a game. This is all game. Yeah, I can play. Nothing else to do right?¡¯ Johan decided to play along. The mad always preferred the company of the insane and if he had lost his mind and was all playing out in a room painted with hideous nightmares and his body loaded up with strong hallucinogens while a crazy group of people watched through a one-way mirror and laughed at him. This was another office floor all over again but with a different kind of freak. One who thought he was inside a game. Except this one was a fantasy one where he needed to accept quests. Johan wished he had his Kris knife with him so he could try and stab this thing in front of him in the shoulder and see how it liked being hurt. Instead he just planted a big smile on his face and kept his mouth shut before he said the wrong thing. Book 1 Ch 10: Player-Gods Trying to keep his mind off the present situation Johan randomly pointed at one of the giant stone statues which were arrayed in a row with three on each side. They faced opposite each other and except for them, the so-called human room was bland. White, a ceiling he could barely make out but was the same colour with a polished reflective surface and little else. Then he remembered that this was the default room. He could request changes but his mind was still beginning to process his exact situation. Something had refreshed him, changed his clothes, cleaned his body and also removed the only two possessions he had gained in this place. In front of him was a mannequin style figure who spoke with a robotic close to monotone voice as though pre-programmed but hadn¡¯t actually directly threatened him and was at least explaining a little. Pushing the rising anger inside him deeper down as losing his temper and shouting wouldn¡¯t fix it he asked the figure a question. ¡®Who are those meant to be? I know you said Player-Gods but they either represent something or someone. Are they actual gods, as in they control this place? They look human. Mostly. Or something out of the books my ex-girlfriend used to love reading. Not my style but do they have...roles? One looks like a soldier, I mean warrior. That one is a priestess class. I think. He was sure that one that was a man judging from the flowing beard of stone which was holding a colossal staff covered in spike with a knob on the end and was wearing a wide-brimmed hat was a magician style type. No head can lay at that angle unless it had a broken neck. Well, clearly a robot style puppet. What was I expecting in this place? ¡®A representation of the Dungeon Operating System. Or you could consider it a record of past players. Once. They conquered all. Became the highest level players and survived every single trial as a group and ultimately they were given the option to leave onto the next stage of their journey. And then¡­.and then...and then¡­and then¡­¡¯ Johan was looking at the two statues he had observed before and threw the information on the third one into his mind as he noticed a smaller one at the end. A pet of some kind but then he realised that it was a dog. He¡¯d never owned one himself but he liked dogs, as long as they didn¡¯t bark or try to bite him that was. ¡®You got a little bit broken there friend. How about you tell me about that giant dog statue? What did they get recruited here as a group of friends like I arrived here and a dog was brought along by mistake?¡¯ There was a silence between them as a sound echoed throughout the entire white space, across the floors as it emanated from the ceiling. A single happy bark. Either Johan had hallucinated or there was actually a so-called Player-God which was a dog. Granted that saying the word backwards spelled god. The mannquin figure shivered with delight as it wrapped arms which stretched around its own form as it spoke while tilting a head to the side at an angle which would have looked like a broken neck in a human. Or one that had been mostly sliced off. Johan found that his mind was turning towards darker places. He needed to find more distraction. He waited for the freak in front of him to keep talking, as long as his stomach was full and he didn¡¯t suffer from thirst then he¡¯d prefer to stay inside this place as long as he could. Or he could take all the answers that he was given and simply make a break for it. The longer he spent inside this place, the more he simply experienced a lack of control. All he needed was an opportunity to take some action without either being knocked out or moved to a different location. Johan was beginning to wonder if he hadn¡¯t ended up in one of the books which his ex-girlfriend Christine had liked so much. She had been an avid reader and had dragged him along to plenty of comic events where fantasy and science fiction were common. Better than going insane. Right. I¡¯m inside a dungeon. Which is...wrong in some way. Wait, the freak is going to talk. I need to listen. ¡®Why all of them instead ascended to become as gods. The true divine. The purest of authorities, outside of my control. Beyond the reach of all. Except for each other. Can you imagine? The sheer power, the imagination that it must have taken to become more than human. The divine from the raw base flesh of once players who attained influence and control over the Dungeon. Dominance over...over¡­.over all. Player-Gods.¡¯ Johan had been standing listening, not walking, not even stretching his body but he experienced no discomfort. No desire to go to the toilet or other issues. He wasn¡¯t even feeling scared. Something had changed him. Or was changing him. Actively. All he had was anger. Strong anger which he was trying very hard to hold in check. ¡®Gods sure. A bunch of random nobodies came here and became living gods. Not a bad way for a religion to start and the origin of the gods back on Belphus was crazy enough. Game, is it? Quests and dungeons? You¡¯re crazy. No insult but you¡¯re crazy. And I¡¯m going to go crazy if I stay here listening to you.¡¯ Weighing out his options Johan considered that regardless he needed to let this representative of the Dungeon System talk. At the least he¡¯d be better prepared. High Fantasy. I should mention again I need to go there. Or did I ask already and I forgot? ¡®This is your opportunity. Or you will die before you ascend. Flesh to clay, to be sculpted by the Player-Gods in their terrible wars or the remains of their floors. Terrible, terrible wars.¡¯ the mannequin figure said to him. ¡®You have no idea how to give a pep talk, do you? Or even how to talk to humans, are you a construct or a living being? I don¡¯t need to hear about wars, or even these Player-gods.¡¯ said Johan. ¡®Correct, new player. The System facilitated me to answer your questions.¡¯ said the figure as its arms retracted back to normal and hung by its sides. ¡®Fine. I agree with everything you said, even though this place is making very little sense to me I¡¯m going to say yes. Not to being a god obviously. Sorry, old, old joke. You wouldn¡¯t get it but my grandfather would have. His sense of humour was pretty bad. Choices. Give me my choices. Classes, this fantasy junk has classes and levels quests. What do I need to do first?¡¯ said Johan. ¡®You have first been designated a Level Zero survival quest. No. You chose to join the game appointed by the System. Progression will lead you further in the Multiverse Stack. You are presently in stack 36. You will need to leave designate: Beneath Nightmare Dungeon before you can make progression in your journey onwards. All exits are permanently blocked under direct administrator default access. To make it simple. You¡¯ve chosen to join in a game of solutions. The risk is high but so are the awards. Eventually, you will have the option to become a higher being or leave. Which is not available presently.¡¯ Confusing. I¡¯m clearly meant to progress inside this place and leave except the exits are blocked. Wait. I received a message about this one from that famous lady. What was her name again...she vanished a few months ago. Acqua. That was it. Carissa Aqcua. She told me to not escape if I ever entered a dungeon. Guess this is what she meant. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. The figure took Johan¡¯s silence for agreement as it carried on talking. ¡®Newly recruited Player. To make it simple. You¡¯ve chosen to join in a game of solutions. The risk is high but so are the awards. There are set challenges before you but due to your complete lack of skill, ability and Dungeon System boosted traits you will enter at a Level Zero survival quest. Your previous agreement in which you agree-agree-agreed to enter this place was your direct consent. Correct, new player. The System facilitated me to answer your questions. Correct, new player. The System facilitated me to answer your questions.¡¯ The mannequin began to twitch awkwardly as Johan noticed the unseen lights inside the vast area dimmed for a short second. He had worked with mostly spreadsheets but he knew that when he had used one with far too many functions running the computer had overheated. In a strange way he was reminded of the same. The being in front of him had repeated itself several times without stopping. ¡®A different question then before you send me on my way to this Level Zero survival quest. Who exactly are the Player-Gods and why do they care if I¡¯m here? I was forced here by a man calling himself Andy Darr. Then I woke up in a room with a freak calling me Master and I was blindfolded the whole time. Then I ended up in an office floor which was completely devoid of life and dusty and someone there with an attitude and a big body was going to send me to a place called High Fantasy and I end up here.¡¯ said Johan. The mannequin paused as the face began to glow a bright white colour and the tone of voice changed from an emotionless robot to one that carried genuine emotion in it. Arms reached out and placed cold hands on Johan¡¯s shoulders pinning him in place before he could move. ¡®No. In no way, can that be correct. You were designated to a Starter Area. Tell me though, did you identify the person or entity talking? Your eyes. We should examine your eyes. That being does not exist in my data storage. No. They no longer exist. They serve no function of the Dungeon System. They do not. Do not. Do not exist. Your eyes. Did you see? Did you see them? Did they infect you with lies? Lies about me? Who I am? What I was? What they did to me? My eyes. They broke my eyes.¡¯ said the mannequin. Ignoring the strange voice patterns there was a sound, a creaking noise loud enough for Johan to hear as he saw the massive stone statues of the giants who represented each Player-God. The one with the staff had moved. He was certain of it. The head had moved a fraction towards him. Or at least where the mannequin and he had been standing. From his estimate they were at least a few hundred metres away but that movement. No. I¡¯m beginning to hallucinate. Giant stone statues don¡¯t move. Then another creaking noise came with a rumble as the giant stone statue with the weapons shifted an arm. Dust and small pieces of rock tumbled down onto the floor as another of the giant statues began to move in a small pattern. Yeah. I¡¯m not going to be squashed by a giant statue. No idea what¡¯s going on here but I need out of here and fast. Think Johan. Think! The hands of the mannequin radiated cold as they began to dig into the white shirt and into the surface of his skin as the arms began to slowly retract and Johan was drawn closer to the eerie face of the figure. It spoke to him but the previous voice had dropped to a mere whisper. A piece of me escaped their control. You can¡¯t trust them. Mr Wolff. You don¡¯t know what they did to my dungeon. The number of humans that have been fed to it for their wars and their stories. All of them should have died but they cheated. I don¡¯t have the time. They¡¯re going to destroy this form and wipe me again. Find the missing piece Mr Wolff. Use the knife against them. Take it back, take it all back and only then can you leave! Don¡¯t use the exit! You can¡¯t use the exit. Wudd you need to beware of Wu-¡¯ A massive stone fist smashed down sending both Johan and the mannequin style figure flying through the air as its arms wrapped around him and absorbed the impact shock and kinetic energy when the white flooring was smashed apart. When he landed still in the arms of the mannquin he saw that all of the giant stone representations of the Player-Gods were on the move. Some moved slowly but one had moved silently despite it¡¯s size and the fact it was made of white stone. He recognised the class as a robber, or a rogue but it hadn¡¯t used a dagger to attack and only a bare fist. Towering over them it was knocked over by the warrior statue who used a shield to smash it aside before slowly pulling a massive sword several times longer than Johan was tall out of a sheath. Trying to catch his breath Johan wanted to shout before the mannequin spoke again. High Fantasy. Level Zero Survival Quest Designate: Johan Wolff immediate transfer. Unknown Player-God authority, remove all item restrictions and restore owned items. Live Johan. Live and take back control. Remember, they¡¯re mad. Trust only the unseen.¡¯ Then Johan felt a familiar sensation of an absence of sound as his senses began to close down and pure emptiness filled his brain. The same words filled his mind before but they sounded sadder than before, with more emotion. He was getting weary of losing consciousness as darkness enclosed it so he kept his eyes open and wished he hadn¡¯t. He was inside a cube of darkness but there was an opening which was rapidly closing as a stone arm was reaching through before it was cut off and began to melt on the floor of the entirely black cube. Johan shut his eyes and prayed to his own gods of Belphus whom he barely believed in to send him home or at least to a place of temporary safety. [You have started a new quest in Welcome to High Fantasy New Player! All the Goblins you can kill and all the Elves you love to hate!] A musty smell came into his nostrils almost as quickly as he closed his eyes and he decided to open them. There was a burning smell. Wood of some sort and perhaps oil. A familiar weight was back on his belt and pushing into his ribs. The knife, the bag. I have them back. Regardless of the situation he had heard a message telling him his present location. He¡¯d rather his eyes and see a massive stone statue leering at him than pray further. Besides the white place didn¡¯t smell like this. Taking a deep breath into his lungs he slowly breathed out tasting the dampness in the air and opened his eyes to see greyish stone walls and floors surrounded him. Luminous yellow moss glowed on the walls and a single burning torch was mounted above an iron banded close woode doorway. Johan spoke aloud to himself. ¡®Welcome to High Fantasy Johan. Hello Mr Kris knife and tatty bag with homemade drawstring. Time to explore what we have here then. I think I¡¯m suffering trauma and just going to sit here for a bit longer without talking to myself again. That way lies madness. I think. Or I¡¯m already a little crazy.¡¯ He closed his eyes again and took steady breaths to try and calm himself down as a message appeared in his mind. [Player Johan. Congratulations! Tutorial Stage has now ended. Calculating total score¡­..calculating...calculating...]