[Dungeon Entrance — Enter?]
I hesitated. The purple glow of the doorway pulsed faintly, like it was breathing, like it had a heartbeat. Behind it, the echoes of the hospital pooled, thick and heavy. Pain. Guilt. Fear. They twisted together, weaving a pull that drew me in.
I swallowed hard. "I agree" I murmured, almost a whisper.
The door slid open slowly, the purple light fading into darkness. I stepped forward instinctively, my chest tightening with every step. "I should have gotten a flashlight…" I thought. But it didn't matter. My Perception buzzed like a second set of eyes. It would show me what I needed.
The corridor inside looked like the hospital I had walked through a hundred times—but different. Cracks lined the walls. The ceiling lights flickered erratically, buzzing and sputtering. The air was heavier here, thick, oppressive, as if the space had absorbed the stress of years of suffering. A metallic tang lingered, faint but persistent, underneath the sterile disinfectant smell.
I took my first steps carefully, ears straining. Whispers drifted through the corridor, low and uneven.
"2,500$ for three stitches!?"
"Please… help me… make it!"
"I-I…"
The voices were fragmented. Snippets of pain, anger, frustration, and guilt. My Perception separated them for me. Each was a thread of echo inside the dungeon. Each a thought of a patient, a doctor, a nurse. The dungeon wasn't empty—it was filled with the lingering emotions of everyone who had walked these halls.
The pull of something lighter caught my attention. To my left, a door stood slightly ajar. A faint glow leaked through the crack. Hope. A single, clear point of positivity in this suffocating darkness.
I didn't hesitate. My boots barely made a sound on the tile as I stepped inside.
The room was small and bare. Just a table in the center, under a dim overhead light. It felt staged. Too empty. Like someone—or something—had designed it to feel exactly this way.
On the table lay a small knife and a bundle of cash.
The system chimed.
[Loot found:
+30$
+item obtained
Equip "Small Knife"?]
I blinked. The knife was suddenly in my hand. Smooth. Solid. Familiar. I didn't remember picking it up, but the system confirmed it. A notification on my phone blinked: +30$. My balance updated.
"Yes," I whispered, almost laughing. The knife felt good in my grip. All of this—it was unreal. Like a game, but more real than anything I'd ever played. Everything here felt alive, but in a distorted, wrong way.
[HADES is observing.]
The words didn't scare me. They were just… present. Like a shadow behind the shadow of my thoughts.
I left the small room and returned to the corridor. Darkness pressed around me again. Emotional residue thickened with every step I took. It pooled in the corners, slick and heavy. The echoes of past suffering followed me, brushing against my mind.
Then I saw it.
A small, black shape on the floor. A kitten. Its fur matted, one leg twisted underneath its body. Its eyes were barely open. It shivered faintly, weak. I froze. My instincts screamed to run forward, but the kitten's aura was fragile. I could feel it.
"Did it get lost in here?" I whispered to myself. "Can you even get lost in a portal dimension?" The thought sounded ridiculous, even to me, but I couldn't ignore the pull of its energy. It was faint, but alive. A tiny point of warmth in the cold, oppressive darkness.
My Perception flared. Sharp, urgent. Danger. Not immediate, but close. The threads of emotional residue twisted and recoiled, warning me.
Then I saw them.
Three wraiths. Thin, almost transparent. Their forms flickered like shadows cast on broken glass. They hovered around the kitten, tendrils of dark energy reaching into its chest. Soul energy. Life. I felt the kitten's essence fraying with every pull.
For the first time since the alley, I wasn't scared. I was angry.
[Hostile entities detected.]
The wraiths had noticed me, their forms shifting, reacting to my presence. They didn't scream, but the pressure in my skull spiked anyway. Pain, anger, despair—it all flowed toward me in a wave. My vision sharpened, edges outlined in faint lines where Perception highlighted the residual energy.
I swallowed.
I gripped the knife tighter.
Not to fight. Not yet. To hold. To brace. To mark my position.
[Combat readiness: initialized.]
I exhaled slowly. I could feel my heartbeat. Slow, deliberate. I let my Perception expand. Not just to see them, but to see through them. Through the tricks, the flickers, the dislocations in space. I could see their anchors. The emotional density that gave them form.
Noticing. Watching. Preparing.
The kitten trembled slightly, sensing danger, but still alive. A small warmth in this twisted place.
[Perception: active.]
I didn't move immediately. I let them react. The wraiths hovered, circling the kitten like predators that had been interrupted. One drifted closer. Its tendrils stretched further. I could feel the intent—slow, calculated.
I glanced down at the knife. My hands weren't shaking anymore. The anger sharpened my focus. I could fight smarter than before. I could see the angles, the positions, the true forms beneath the flickering illusions.
I took a deep breath. The dungeon pressed in around me. Darkness, decay, echoes of suffering—they were thick, but I had a guide now. My Perception. My instincts. My focus.
The wraith shifted. Faster this time. A ghostly tendril thrusted towards me
I shifted my weight. The knife in my hand was light but I was clumsy, I had no idea how to fight, no idea what to do.
I fell down with a thump, a noise that could prove fatal.
One of the other wraiths noticed me. The tendrils left the cat, and they turned towards me.
The first now above me. Hungry. Ready to strike.
My fear returned as the three wraiths approached slowly...