Consciousness returned slowly, reluctantly, as if I were rising from beneath a kilometers-thick layer of icy, murky water. It clung to the merciful void of oblivion, resisting the reality that awaited me, poised with a rusted hammer raised above my head. Some primal, animalistic part of me already knew it was better not to wake. Better to remain in that darkness, where there was no pain, no torment—only nothingness and a compassionate emptiness.
A dry, ragged cough tore through me, doubling me over before I could even open my eyes. My throat felt as though it had been scraped raw with a rasp, leaving bleeding furrows behind. My mouth was filled with a vile, sharp chemical taste, like I'd swallowed a mixture of acid and old blood. I tried to draw a deeper breath, but thousands of scalding glass needles stabbed into my lungs. Another coughing fit seized me, so violent I barely managed to bite my lip to stifle a scream.
With immense effort, I pried my eyelids open, only to find my face pressed against something rusted, sharp, and cold as a blade protruding from the ground. My cheek burned. I hissed through clenched teeth, feeling the jagged edges of metal biting into my skin. My fingers twitched, instinctively groping the surface: rough, pockmarked metal, damp and coated with a sticky, repulsive grime.
The air assaulted my nostrils. It wasn't merely a smell—it was a concentrated poison. A choking, acrid blend of decay, chemical bitterness, and rotting flesh. It clawed into my lungs, burning them, leaving a taste of pus and metal on my tongue. I pressed my jacket sleeve to my face, but the expensive fabric was powerless against it.
The surroundings were a haze. A warped, rusted surface stretched out beneath a dim, sickly light pouring from above. No ceiling, no lamps—just twisted, alien shapes. My head spun, a low, oppressive hum building in my temples, as if my skull might split open.
Clumsily, trying not to cut myself further, I rolled onto my side. I looked around. And panic, which had been dormant at the edges of my consciousness, began to rise like an icy wave.
This was a wasteland. An endless dump stretching to the horizon, filled with mangled iron, torn pipes, and grotesque fragments of some colossal, long-dead machinery. Piles of debris, razor-sharp metal edges jutting from the ground like the broken ribs of a titan. Above it all loomed a murky, stagnant sky, the color of pus and smoke. This isn't a room… not a hall… everything's wrong…
I ran my hand along the ground—my fingers grazed sharp debris. My hand jerked back, blood seeping from a cut, staining the rust a fresh red. I was in a mansion… My mind thrashed, desperately seeking a rational explanation. A party. A flash. Screams. Faces… I tried to grasp at a specific image, a detail, but my memory held only darkness. An emptiness wrapped in pain. I felt that darkness in my mind begin to spread, threatening to swallow me whole, and I instinctively recoiled from it. No. Not now. I couldn't let myself think about it. I mustn't.
But what could explain this hellish landscape? Amid the panic and pain, a wild, absurd thought surfaced, drawn from countless books I'd read.
Had I… crossed into another world? Transported? Like in those stories? But why was everything so wrong? Wasn't I supposed to appear in a castle before a king who'd call me a "hero"? Why, instead, was I in some toxic dump, choking on poison and bleeding out?
Or perhaps… I was dead, and this was the afterlife? If so, I must have lived a far less virtuous life than I'd thought. A grim prospect, indeed.
Enough. I couldn't dwell on this. These thoughts were just a weak, frightened mind grasping for familiar patterns in this nightmare. But there were no patterns here. Only pain and this endless wasteland.
I froze, listening to my own breathing: it was strange, ragged, uneven. My body protested against the very act of breathing in this place.
"Damn…" I croaked, my voice sounding alien, weak, barely audible.
Fumbling, I searched for something to brace myself against. Every movement was accompanied by the rustle and clank of debris. The sound felt deafening in the dead silence. Fear gripped me—fear that this noise might draw something or someone. Was I alone in this hell? The thought of solitude was almost as suffocating as the air itself.
I tried to stand. My legs buckled but seemed intact. At least they're not broken… Another ragged cough doubled me over. This air would kill me if I stayed here long. Perhaps it would be easier to just lie down and let it end? To close my eyes and sink back into the darkness. Forever.
No. I couldn't.
"What… is this place…" I forced out, knowing no answer would come.
My heart pounded, erratic and frantic. No. I couldn't just lie here. Fear—raw, primal fear—outweighed despair. I knew if I didn't pull myself together, I'd collapse and suffocate. Swallowing hard, I took a few shaky steps, clinging to protruding metal plates for support.
Then, the silence shattered. A strange scraping sound—like a blade dragged across metal, grinding against bone—pierced the air. It was followed by a heavy, staccato thudding. My body froze, petrified with terror.
---
I expanded the fragment, delving deeper into the protagonist's spiraling thoughts, his irrational choices driven by panic, and the slow, agonizing transformation of despair into cold, calculated rage.
Cautiously, almost inch by inch, I peered from behind a pile of twisted scrap. My heart pounded in my throat, a dull drumbeat like an executioner's march. And then I saw it.
It was neither machine nor living creature. It was an amalgamation, an industrial heresy forged from alien pain and engineering madness. A tall, unnaturally elongated skeleton was draped in bundles of synthetic muscle and patches of tarry, dead flesh. In place of arms were a complex mechanical manipulator ending in vibrating claws and a crude, asymmetrical pincer welded from industrial debris. But the worst was its face—or what passed for one: a shattered skull with faintly glowing optics, burning with a cold, lifeless amber light. There was no rage in it. Only… hatred and hunger.
I stepped back, my foot brushing against a hidden pipe beneath a layer of rusted dust. The clang was sharp, deafening, slicing through the dead silence.
It froze.
Then it turned—swiftly, mercilessly, instantly.
A hiss. A crack of joints, louder than before. And it lunged.
I leaped back, my heart plummeting, threatening to burst from my chest. Behind me, I heard the metallic crunch of its claws raking through debris. It was pursuing me, moving too fast for its grotesque form. As if death itself, clad in iron and decay, had decided I was its sole target.
Stumbling, I wove through the labyrinth of scrap, tripping over every jagged piece. Every second was precious as the creature's claws scraped metal behind me, producing a soul-rending screech. I imagined there might be more of them; I heard echoes of howling voices converging, closing in. I wanted to scream Help!, but my mind roared, You'll only draw more of them, you fool, shut up!
Breathing grew unbearable; coughs tore through me, choking on this vile atmosphere. Each gulp of air burned like acid in my lungs. Adrenaline drove me forward as I vaulted over another pile of metal, seeking salvation in any crevice, any shadow. I realized I'd likely die of suffocation before the monster caught me, but primal fear propelled me onward. The creature leaped over debris, its blade clanging against iron, hissing ominously. Other voices echoed—there were more of them. I tore through the wreckage, nails breaking against rusted shards, hands bleeding, but I couldn't stop, couldn't slow down.
The creature's cries grew closer, rising into a wail as if summoning others. The nightmare's party raged on, and I was its main attraction.
"No… no…" I muttered through gritted teeth, zigzagging between corroded structures. My heart threatened to burst my chest, hammering like a forge. I knew I'd collapse soon if I didn't find a place to hide, to vanish from their sight.
I stumbled over sharp debris, narrowly avoiding impaling my foot, though my pant leg tore. I couldn't keep this pace; my lungs burned. Help, someone, anyone… my mind screamed, but I dared not speak, lest I summon more monsters and seal my fate.
Ahead, a dark gash yawned in a wall of compressed metal. A hiding place. Salvation.
There. I had to run there. My only chance.
But…
The gash looked like an open maw. Black, silent, it seemed to inhale the dump's fetid air. Conveniently placed right in my path. Too convenient. The creature's cries suddenly ceased, and the abrupt silence was more terrifying than any howl. I lacked the courage to look back.
I could dive into that gap and keep running, but what if it was a dead end? I'd be trapped, torn apart.
Don't think, just run to safety, a panicked voice in my head urged. Run into the dark, you can hide there.
But another, colder terror gripped me. Fear of confinement. Of that creature blocking the only exit and dismantling me piece by piece in the pitch black.
To my right was another path. A narrow trail along a rusted beam, leading to a drop. A wide chasm, maybe four meters across. I could make the jump, but the creature… I doubted it could. Below the beam lay a bottomless abyss studded with needle-like spikes. One misstep, one moment's hesitation, and I'd be dead.
It all flashed through my mind in a second. Two paths. Two traps. A quick death below or a torturous one in the dark.
Behind me, a piercing wail. The creature was closing in.
Panic, irrational and all-consuming, made the choice for me. Not the maw. Not the darkness. Better to risk shattering than be eaten alive. I veered right.
I ran along the slick beam, balancing on the edge. There it was—the chasm. Desperation fueled me. I leaped, pouring all my hatred and will into the jump.
The leap was a disaster.
There was a moment—a fleeting, intoxicating moment of flight—when I almost believed I'd made it. I nearly reached the other side. My foot grazed the edge, but the wet metal slipped from under me. My ankle twisted with a sickening crunch as I crashed down.
My leg! My leg!
In midair, I narrowly avoided impaling myself on a jagged beam. I hit the ground chest-first, a searing pain shooting through my ribs as if a red-hot knife had been plunged into them.
"A-ahh…" A half-scream escaped, laced with unbearable pain and terror. But fear of the creature forced me to bite my hand until it bled, stifling the cry. Pain surged in waves, threatening to drag me into oblivion. My ribs were likely cracked, maybe broken. My ankle, judging by the sharp agony, was sprained—or worse. My vision darkened, my head buzzed, my heart raced, and another dry, torturous cough clawed at my throat.
Get up, you pathetic wretch, or you'll die here! my instincts screamed.
I tried to stand—my leg buckled, the ankle's sharp pain nearly breaking me. Tears streamed down, burning my face. No, not this… Panic surged, overwhelming. I limped, each breath stabbing my ribs with a needle of pain. The creature's hissing echoed from above. I dragged myself forward, hands scraping sharp edges, leaving blood smears on the rusted metal.
Another gap loomed in the wall, like a door in the debris. Dark as a grave, but better than staying exposed. Groaning, I crawled inside, fumbling for a jagged piece of metal to block the entrance with trembling hands. A cough wracked me, and I nearly passed out from the searing pain in my ribs.
Inside, I scanned the dim space: a low, narrow chamber reeking of mold and rot, like a crypt. A hole in the ceiling revealed the same pus-yellow sky. The air here was even heavier, but I was out of the monsters' sight… for now, for a fleeting respite.
My ankle throbbed unbearably, and each breath sparked sharp pain in my ribs. I touched my side and flinched at my own touch.
Outside, shuffling. I froze. Hissing, the scrape of claws on metal. It was close, sniffing me out like a beast hunting prey. I bit my lips until they bled, suppressing a cough. Please don't find me… please…
The noises stopped. My head swam in the toxic haze, consciousness slipping, but primal fear kept me tethered. Broken ribs, a swollen ankle the size of a ball. No medicine, no water, no food. No one.
I listened. Silence. Only the occasional drip-drip of some liquid and, far off, a guttural krrr… like something heavy being dragged. Maybe other monsters. I was trapped.
Fever gripped me; I was burning up. I'd die here—of infection, starvation, or the creature's claws.
"Please…" I rasped into the void. My voice was hopeless, pathetic. And in that moment, something inside me snapped.
I hated it.
I hated that voice. That weakness. That plea.
I slammed my head against the wall. The pain briefly cleared my mind. I pressed my forehead to my knees and sobbed, almost inaudibly. Tears burned my cheeks. I hated myself for it.
No hope. No kind face to offer a hand and say, "It'll be okay…"
Lies. It was all lies.
The joyful dreams of university. A better future. Under the weight of pain and despair, memories began to resurface. False friends who smiled to my face but mocked my dreams behind my back. Parents who despised me for not being what they wanted, perpetually disappointed in my existence.
My entire damned life was one long, black streak.
Why? Why? WHY?
It had all twisted into this perverse hell. And they'd abandoned me here.
My tears dried. In their place came pain—a constant companion, drilling into my brain. And beneath that pain, at the bottom of this well of despair, something new began to stir. Cold. Heavy. Rage.
I cracked my eyes open, staring at the warped door leading deeper into the structure.
If I was fated to die, it wouldn't be here.
No.
I wouldn't die here.
Reality shrank to this dark, filthy corner and a single thought.
I refuse to die here.
And at that moment, my consciousness, unable to withstand the monstrous pain and psychological exhaustion, plunged into darkness.