[The White Corridor – Recovery Zone]
I do not know how much time has passed as I lay on this cold, white floor. Was it an hour? A day? A year? In the White Corridor, time is not a straight line, but a recursive loop. I would drift in and out of sleep to the rhythm of my bones realigning and the heat of my muscles weaving their torn fibers back together. Every time I closed my eyes, nightmares assaulted me. The stench of the "Armored Giant's" blood still clung to my nose like a layer of rust, and the smell of my own burnt flesh filled my throat, making me choke in my sleep. I could still see the hammer falling... see the bones flying... hear the screams of the mutants.
But now... something woke me. It wasn't a sharp pain. It wasn't the cold alarm of the System. It wasn't the roar of a monster. It was... a scent. A faint, delicate, invisible breeze caressed my face, seeping through the cracks of the sterile White Corridor. It carried a fragrance I had forgotten existed in this universe—a scent I believed to be extinct. The smell of something sweet... damp... pure... and alive. The scent of "Life."
I opened my eyes. The rest was over. My wounds had healed, leaving behind faint scars that would soon vanish. I stood up slowly and followed the scent like an addict seeking a fix, or a drowning man reaching for air. I walked down the corridor. The door that appeared at the end was entirely different from the previous ones. It wasn't rusted iron, nor was it built of bone and skulls. It was a normal wooden door. Simple, ancient, crafted from dark oak, and slightly ajar, with a warm, inviting golden light spilling through the crack.
I pushed my exhausted body toward the door. I placed my hand on the warm wood and pushed. "WHOOSH..."
The light that greeted me did not burn my retinas as the Salt Desert had. It was a golden, gentle light, seeping warmly into my cold skull and melting the ice accumulated behind my eyes. I gasped deeply. The air here had a "taste." The taste of pure oxygen saturated with the smell of damp earth after rain, wild flowers, and tree resin. The taste of freedom.
[The Green Valley]
I stepped inside cautiously, expecting a trap. My bare feet, accustomed to mud, blood, and scorching salt, touched something soft, cool, and silky. I looked down in awe. Grass. Thick, emerald-green grass covered a vast valley that stretched before my eyes to infinity. I raised my head slowly, unable to believe it. Towering mountain ranges embraced snow-white peaks, and cotton-like clouds drifted lazily across an impossibly clear blue sky. Distant waterfalls thundered with a musical roar, pouring silver waters into a turquoise river that cut through the valley like an artery of life.
"Is this a trap?" That was the first thought that jumped to my mind—the thought of one who has lived in hell and grown accustomed to betrayal. I scanned the area with my Red Eye (Combat Mode). I searched for the heat signatures of hidden monsters, for magical snares, for anything that wanted to kill me.
Nothing. The only red outlines I detected were of a small deer drinking peacefully from the river and colorful birds chasing each other through the trees.
I deactivated my eye. I returned to natural colors. I fell to my knees in the grass. The beauty... the beauty was more painful than the ugliness. I had grown used to ugliness; I had adapted to it. But beauty... beauty reminded me of everything I had lost. It reminded me of my home, my parents, and the world I was stripped of. I dug my fingers into the damp soil and wept without tears.
[The Guide]
I walked through the valley for hours, aimlessly, just to feel alive. I touched the rough trunks of trees with the same hands that had killed hundreds. I ran my hands through the cold river water and drank until I was full. Every one of my senses was celebrating its return to life.
I reached a giant tree, its roots protruding and massive like the veins of the earth itself. Beneath its sprawling shade sat a small wooden hut—simple, as if it had stepped out of a children's picture book. In front of the hut sat an old man. He wore a simple robe of coarse linen. His long white hair was tied back, and his beard reached his chest. His eyes were closed, listening to the sound of the wind dancing through the branches, smoking a long pipe that emitted smoke smelling of tobacco and cherries.
I stopped. My body tensed automatically. Is he an enemy? Is he the Gatekeeper of the Fifth Door?
"You took a long time to get here, my son..." the old man said in a calm, deep voice, without opening his eyes or turning around.
I froze in place, my eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Who are you?" I asked in a hoarse voice. "Are you the next challenge?"
The old man opened his eyes slowly. They were not red, nor yellow, nor black. They were Blue. A blue as clear as the sky above us, filled with the wisdom of centuries. He smiled, his deep wrinkles moving with gentleness. "A challenge? No..." He laughed softly and tapped the ash from his pipe. "I am merely a rest. I am the guide of this place... or you can call me Grandfather, as they do in your human stories."
I didn't answer. I remained standing, my muscles taut. Noticing my tension, the old man pointed his thin hand toward a straw basket beside him. "Sit. You are tired, and hungry."
I looked at the basket. Shiny red apples. Ripe clusters of grapes. A loaf of fresh bread. A jar of water. My stomach, which had been eating itself in the Salt Desert, let out a roar like thunder, shattering the blatant silence of the place. The old man laughed again, a sound like the snapping of dry twigs. "Hell makes you hungry, doesn't it? Come. The food is real, and I am real... as far as you are concerned."
I approached cautiously and sat on the grass, my eyes never leaving him. I took an apple. I bit into it. "CRUNCH!" The sound of the snap, the sweet and tart juice that exploded in my mouth, the flavor of fresh fruit... for a moment, I closed my eyes and felt a shiver run through my body. It wasn't just food. It was a reminder of my humanity. I didn't eat like a beast devouring prey to stay alive... I ate like a human savoring a blessing. A single tear escaped my eye, mixing with the apple juice.
The old man asked me nothing. He didn't ask, "Why are you crying?" He simply smoked his pipe in silence and let me gather the scattered pieces of myself, one bite at a time.
[A Night Without Nightmares]
Night came. The valley sky was not a dismal black ceiling. It was a vast universe, studded with millions of stars twinkling like diamonds, the Milky Way stretching like a ribbon of milk across the heavens. I stretched out on the soft grass under the giant tree, looking up. The old man went into his hut to sleep, leaving me alone with the cosmos.
"Grandfather..." I whispered in a low voice, afraid my words might break the magic. "Is this real? Or am I still in the White Corridor, and my mind invented all of this to escape the madness?"
His voice came from inside the hut, mingling with the peaceful chirping of crickets: "It is as real as you allow it to be, my son. Reality is what your heart believes, not what your eyes see."
I closed my eyes. My chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. And for the first time since I entered this cursed world... since I saw the fire consume my home... I slept. I slept without fear, without being hunted, and without nightmares. I slept like a child in the cradle of nature.