Thump...
Thump...
A highly rhythmic, mechanical sound echoed through the hollow expanse of the abandoned warehouse. Sylas worked with the focus of a machine, while Eri stood a safe distance away, fastidiously recording descriptions of the environment in his weathered notebook.
Compared to the yellow labyrinth of Level 0, Level 1 was remarkably stable. The spatial distortions were less frequent, and the psychological "hum-buzz" was replaced by the cold, grounding silence of industrial concrete.
Sylas was a whirlwind of deconstruction. He diligently excavated everything in his path: metal shelves, cardboard boxes, rusted copper pipes, buzzing light fixtures, and faded safety signs. In his eyes, every object was a resource node.
However, the harvest was meager. Most miscellaneous items only yielded between 1 and 3 Energy points. Only special anomalous items—like Almond Water—provided a significant payout. Unfortunately, such treasures weren't exactly common.
"Sylas, look!"
Eri pointed toward the high ceiling and shouted. Sylas instantly ceased his mining, manifesting a Stone Axe in a smooth, practiced motion, his eyes scanning for movement. But when he followed Eri's finger, he didn't see an Entity. He saw a smear of vibrant, blood-red graffiti.
"Do you want to come to our Party? =)"
"Sylas, I swear that wasn't there ten minutes ago," Eri whispered, his voice trembling.
Sylas's expression darkened. He lowered his axe but kept his guard up. "Eri, listen to me very carefully. Never, under any circumstances, touch graffiti that appears out of nowhere. Especially if it has a smiley face. That is a Partygoer's trap."
Eri nodded vigorously, his trust in Sylas now absolute. "What... what happens if you touch it?"
"You join the party," Sylas said grimly. "Which means you're either mutilated and transformed into one of them, or you're processed into a 'cupcake' for the rest of the guests to enjoy. A wise man doesn't stand under a collapsing wall, and I have no interest in being dessert."
Sylas scanned the rafters. He wasn't particularly afraid of a rogue Entity C-233, but he was a strategist. He didn't want his only "data-entry tool" getting infected.
The Partygoers were aggressive, sentient nightmares with cartoonish smiles. Their arms ended in lamprey-like mouths filled with rows of needle teeth. A single bite could inject PTG-A, a brownish-yellow toxin that would rewrite a human's central nervous system and physiology within 24 hours.
"It's time to go. I'm taking you back to the Overworld to rest."
"Open the door!"
The reassuring pixelated portal appeared instantly. Sylas ushered Eri back into the safety of the misty pocket dimension.
"If you're still hungry, I have another bottle of Almond Water," Sylas offered as he checked his UI.
"I'm fine for now," Eri replied, leaning against the wall. "I haven't moved much, so my energy levels are stable."
Sylas turned his attention to his floating HUD.
[Current Energy: 12,487]
"Twelve thousand... it's enough. System, Upgrade!"
As the command left his lips, the gray mist at the borders of his world began to boil and recede, revealing a significantly wider expanse. The cold, mosaic-like Bedrock floor was replaced by vibrant, emerald Grass Blocks. In the center of the clearing, a perfectly square Oak Tree materialized out of thin air.
Eri's eyes nearly popped out of his head. He had initially thought Sylas was just a squatter in this dimension, but watching the landscape rewrite itself confirmed a much deeper, more terrifying connection.
Sylas, however, was less impressed. "Only doubled in size? Just a layer of grass? I was hoping for at least a full Chunk."
He manifested a Stone Shovel and dug into the grass beneath his feet. When he hit gray Stone just a few blocks down, a small smile finally broke his stony facade. "Not bad. At least there's stone. Let's see if there's ore beneath the surface."
Thump...
After digging through three layers of stone, the familiar, unbreakable Bedrock reappeared. Sylas clicked his tongue. "Generous, but not by much." It was essentially a Minecraft Superflat world with a three-layer depth limit.
Coming back to the surface, Sylas looked at the lonely oak tree swaying in a non-existent wind.
"Sylas... is this your power?" Eri asked, approaching the tree with cautious wonder.
"Something like that. You can record it in your little notebook—though I hope you give me a respectable designation."
He knew Eri viewed him as an anomaly rather than a man. To Sylas, if Eri was a scientist, the scrutiny was annoying; if he was a "historian," then Eri was a perfect biographer for his burgeoning legend.
"Designation?"
"A number. A name. Whatever the Foundation calls things like me," Sylas shrugged. "When I have time, I'll take you to an M.E.G. outpost to cross-reference your data. They have a wealth of info on the Backrooms."
Eri didn't press further; he was too busy scribbling. Sylas watched him with a trace of pity. He didn't have the heart to tell the man that his chances of ever seeing the "Frontrooms" again were statistically zero.
Sylas turned to the tree. He raised his stone axe and struck the wood. Familiar mosaic cracks appeared on the trunk, spreading with every hit until a block of wood popped into his inventory.
"Only five logs? Tsk. It's like Skyblock survival all over again."
He looked up at the leaves floating in mid-air, defying every law of gravity known to Eri's world. Sylas began to pace, muttering a silent prayer. Must drop saplings... please drop saplings...
If the tree didn't yield a sapling, his progress would stall indefinitely. He refused to break the leaves manually, superstitious that a natural decay would yield a better drop rate.
As he waited for the foliage to vanish, a new wooden door suddenly shimmered into existence on the far wall. It wasn't one of Sylas's.
The door pushed open, and a young boy wearing thick glasses stepped through, looking absolutely dumbfounded as he stared at the green grass and the man with the stone axe.