《Wander Rust [Grimdark + Dungeon Crawl]》 Prologue To be honest, my life is already over. And I¡¯m not being pessimistic or nihilistic or whatever it¡¯s called. It¡¯s genuinely over. Try to imagine the sensation of horribly failing an exam, or rear-ending a car when you already have a violation on your license. Now, multiply that feeling of despair and regret by ten¡ªmaybe even one hundred¡ªand you¡¯ll understand what I¡¯m currently experiencing. And no, I¡¯m not overreacting. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful, isn¡¯t it?¡± A voice cuts through my thoughts, sharp and nasally, dripping with smugness. It¡¯s the type of voice that would normally make my skin crawl, if I wasn¡¯t already bracing for what¡¯s to come. The old me would¡¯ve shot back with a snarky comment, maybe a sarcastic, ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m pretty beautiful.¡± But today, I¡¯m feeling pretty empty. ¡°Allllright, time to begin.¡± The sticky voice announces from above me now, accompanied by the sensation of cold latex gloves prodding my body. Right. Because today, I¡¯m going to be emptied out. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Immediately, something enters my eye. Presumably, the tip of a needle. There''s a slight pop as it pierces the cornea, slipping through the membrane. I don¡¯t even flinch. I just imagine the cold metal sinking deeper, reaching into the back of my skull. Maybe I should have splurged on the anesthesia package. But then again, I¡¯m getting gutted either way. So is there even a point? Is this the so-called illusion of free choice? A blade traces my chest, the steel biting through skin and flesh with a remarkable efficiency. snip snip snip The sound is methodical, almost rhythmic, like a soldier¡¯s boots marching in beat with the war drums. Then, a deeper cut. My stomach is opened up, a gaping wound exposing my squish organs to the sterile air. Gloved fingers burrow inside, yanking and tearing. My intestines uncoil, slick and trembling in the artificial light. My ribcage creaks, then cracks, each segment neatly separated, stripped away like unwanted scaffolding. I¡¯m reminded of the vultures I saw long ago in a documentary. Before they went extinct. And somewhere in the middle of it all, one thought surfaces. What the hell am I doing right now? The kind of thought you get when your friends convince you to do something stupid¡ªsomething reckless¡ªand mid-way through, as the consequences start to sink in, you realize just how badly you¡¯ve messed up. Well, the answer to my question¡­ is a letter. I should have thrown the letter away the moment I saw it. It had arrived in an unmarked envelope, slipped beneath my door as if it had simply materialized there. And for the record, there is no space between my door and the floor. I can still remember the content of the letter, it¡¯s almost like they¡¯ve been ingrained into my head. As the gloved fingers wrap around my heart, I silently mouth the words, chanting. You¡¯ve been invited to explore an abyss of rusted metal and bloodshed! They remove my brain and put it inside the machine. -1: Good Morning! Good morning. Truth to be told, I can¡¯t really tell if it¡¯s morning, afternoon, or evening. But I¡¯ve decided to call it morning. If I had to say one thing about the situation I¡¯m in right now, it would be that my head hurts. A lot. Usually, I¡¯m not one to complain, but this level of pain is ¡­ abnormal. It¡¯s not a dull headache or a cute little migraine. It¡¯s sharp and precise, like searing needles piercing into the base of my skull, burning away at all the fleshy bits inside. Wincing slightly, I look around, trying to distract myself from the pain. The room is empty. Cold and industrial. Smooth steel walls stretch outwards in all directions, except for a single door in front of me, about twenty steps away. I¡¯m reminded of the padded rooms they used to put crazy people in, for their own good. But why am I here? The pounding in my head wont stop. I raise my hand upwards, or at least, I try to. I can¡¯t. Looking downwards, I observe the thick metal encircling my wrists, strapping me down to my seat. The restraints are not just limited to my arms, but my legs and torso too. But why do my arms look like that? I don¡¯t think these are my limbs. I expect to breathe in sharply, to feel my chest rise and fall with panic, but nothing happens. A phrase that comes to mind is ¡°deafening silence¡±. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever felt this alone. What has happened to me? beep A small alarm echoes once throughout the empty room. Following that, a section of the ceiling opens up, the panels sliding away and converging with others. From the hole, a monitor slowly drops, unfolding until it¡¯s fully displayed right across from me. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. The screen is old, its edges lined with faint scratches and the glass slightly warped, as if it has been used for far too long. Yet the text it displays is sharp. WELCOME TO IRIDISCIENCE CORP. UNIT 001 ONLINE. Before I can process my thoughts, a voice echoes from the speaker above. ¡°How¡¯s the new shell feeling?¡± It''s smooth, casual. Almost amused. There¡¯s no mechanical coldness to it¡ªjust the kind of lazy drawl you¡¯d expect from someone leaning back in their chair, watching a show they¡¯ve already seen a hundred times. The monitor flickers, showing new text. NEURAL LINK STABILIZING¡­ DISORIENTATION EXPECTED. PLEASE REMAIN CALM. The taste of metal floods my mouth, pressing against my tongue and the roof of my mouth. Instinctively, I spit it out. ¡°Looks like you¡¯re waking up just fine. That¡¯s good. Some of the others didn¡¯t handle the transition too well.¡± Transition? Black ooze drips from my mouth, spilling onto my torso. The word lingers, twisting in my mind. I try to remember how I got here, what happened before this. But something¡¯s off. I look down at my hands. Not hands. Long plated metal with artificial joints, reminiscent of a knight¡¯s greaves. It reflects the glow of the monitor. ¡°Yeah¡­ Might take you a second to process. That¡¯s a good sign, by the way. Means you still have a little something left in that head of yours.¡± ¡­COMPLETE. ding! A bell chimed somewhere. No, it could¡¯ve been the sound of an explosion. The sensation of the world surrounding me being flipped¡ªas if my mind was being expanded on all four sides. My hearing went numb and everything felt distant, my vision kept flickering. It was as if someone was opening and closing my eyes for me. My consciousness stopped. Then. And then¡­! CONGRATULATIONS! YOU¡¯VE BEEN INVITED TO A SPECIAL DINNER! And then the strangest and longest dream began.