Inside the vast, industrial skeleton of Level 1, Sylas had shifted his strategy. He wasn't dismantling the walls for pennies anymore; he was hunting for high-value scrap—pipes, conduits, and heavy steel shelving.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
The pipes running along the ceiling were pressurized with water, but the moment Sylas broke a segment into a collectible block, the fluid would vanish into thin air. It was a bizarre phenomenon—either the Backrooms were manually scrubbing the "leak," or the pipes only contained a localized pocket of stagnant water.
Sylas didn't care. He was having more fun than a player on a high-speed Minecraft prison-break server.
"This beats mining in a dark hole any day," he chuckled. Level 1 was virtually endless, meaning the metal was endless. For a regular Wanderer, deconstructing a warehouse with hand tools was an impossible chore; for Sylas, it was like "picking up money" from the floor.
"Repair Durability!"
His Iron Pickaxe, which had been sparking against the galvanized steel, instantly hummed back to full health at his command.
Squeak... buzz...
The rhythmic sound of his work was suddenly interrupted by a flickering current. The overhead lights fifty meters ahead buzzed violently, flickered twice, and then plunged the hallway into an oppressive, pitch-black darkness.
Sylas didn't hesitate. He dropped from the scaffolding he'd built, manifesting an Iron Axe and a heavy, reinforced Shield before his feet even hit the concrete.
Level 1 was "habitable," but "safe" was a relative term. In the Backrooms, lights going out usually signaled a "Refresh"—a localized reset of the environment—or the arrival of an Entity.
"Damn. A Smiling Wraith."
A glowing, crescent-moon smile suddenly manifested in the dark corner. It was the most iconic nightmare of the Backrooms: The Smiler.
The Smiler was a creature of pure, glowing malice. It possessed a mouth full of jagged, needle-sharp teeth and a pair of white, luminescent eyes. The rest of its physical form was naturally invisible to the naked eye, leaving only the horrifying visage floating in the void.
They were phototropic—drawn to light like moths to a flame—and would relentlessly hunt any source of illumination. Standard survival protocol was to maintain eye contact, back away slowly, and use Smiler Repellent.
Sylas, however, had no repellent. What he did have was an itch for combat and a desperate need for Experience Orbs.
"Hey, grandson! Over here!"
With a top-tier taunt as his opening gambit, Sylas watched the Smiler's attention snap toward him. He slammed his axe against his shield with a resounding CLANG.
Enraged, the creature lunged. It moved with terrifying speed, a blur of glowing teeth hurtling through the dark. Even as it emerged from the shadows, its body remained a ghost, but the sheer displacement of air told Sylas exactly where the bulk of the monster was.
"Good grief, you're a big one."
As it closed the distance, Sylas realized the mouth alone was large enough to swallow his torso. He braced himself behind his shield.
CLANK!
The Smiler collided with the wooden-and-iron barrier. Sylas felt the force of the impact, but the shield's absolute defense held. Before the entity could recoil, Sylas swung the Iron Axe in a brutal horizontal arc, aiming for where the "face" would be.
The Smiler flashed red—the universal indicator of damage. For a split second, its invisible form was revealed: a massive, five-meter-long horror with unnaturally twisted limbs and a translucent, oily hide. Then, it vanished back into transparency.
A sudden force slammed into Sylas's side, but he pivoted his shield with a practiced flick. THUD.
"Sneaky bastard," Sylas grumbled. "No wonder Wanderers don't survive you. Good thing I've got the ultimate defense."
The Minecraft Shield was, frankly, broken. It blocked 100% of physical damage from the front—including attacks aimed at the head or legs—as long as the user was bracing. Unless the Smiler had a shield-disabling move or a non-physical psychic attack, it was just a dog barking at a brick wall.
Sylas went on the offensive. He timed his swings between the Smiler's lunges, aiming for the glowing teeth—the only target he could see.
- 7 (Target has high Natural Armor)
The combat became a rhythmic dance. Lunge, block, counter-swing. Lunge, block, counter-swing.
- 7
- 7
"Repair!" Sylas commanded as his shield began to splinter. The energy value drained from his hoard, and the shield was instantly pristine.
[Entity: Smiler — HP: 4 / 74]
With over seventy HP, this thing was a tank compared to the Bacteria he'd slain earlier.
"Die for me!"
The final blow caught a massive upper fang. The force was so great that the tooth snapped off, spinning through the air before the entire entity collapsed. The lights in the distance flickered back to life, and a swarm of high-value Experience Orbs flooded into Sylas's chest.
[Level Up: 6]
"Phew. High HP, high XP. I wonder if I can find a Spawner for these things? I'd make a killing on a mob farm."
He pushed the thought aside. Smilers were sentient enough to have their own social hierarchies and racial enemies. They weren't just mindless drones.
Sylas walked over to the now-visible corpse. It was a mess of gray, rubbery flesh and twisted joints. "A definite Wanderer-killer," he noted. "Speed, invisibility, and enough jaw pressure to snap rebar. Too bad I'm an anomaly."
He looked at the creature's mouth, his eyes glinting with a different kind of hunger. "Those teeth look like good crafting materials..."
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Ten minutes later, the Smiler—now missing every single tooth—was shoved into Sylas's Backpack. He didn't know what use an entity corpse had yet, but he followed the golden rule of survival: Take everything; sort it later.
He walked toward the corner where the entity had spawned. As he suspected, a "Refresh" had occurred. A fresh cardboard box sat waiting.
He flipped it open:
Gray Almond Water (x2)
Flashlight Battery (x1)
18+ Adult Magazine (x1)
Stale Bread (So hard it could be used as a mace)
Used Socks (x1 pair)
"Aside from the water, this is literally garbage," Sylas sighed, tossing the socks aside. He stood up, looking deeper into the darkness of Level 1.
"Time to see if there's a village in this warehouse."