Isolation came quietly.
Elara didn't notice it at first—not as an event, not as a moment. It crept in through the edges of her apartment, subtle enough to slip past awareness.
Her phone lay on the kitchen counter while she microwaved leftover pasta, the hum of the machine filling the room. The overhead light flickered once—just enough to make her glance up.
The hallway outside her apartment door was silent.
Too silent.
Normally, Mrs. Hensley's TV would be on by now. The muffled laugh track of some sitcom bleeding through thin walls. Footsteps. A cough. Life.
Elara set the fork down slowly.
Her phone buzzed.
Isolation confirmed.
The words appeared on the screen—but she felt them before she fully processed them. A pressure behind her eyes. A tightening in her chest, like the world had quietly stepped back.
The microwave beeped, loud and wrong, and then—
The world dropped.
Not fell. Not collapsed.
Dropped.
Her stomach lurched as gravity twisted sideways, then inward. The kitchen stretched like pulled taffy, walls elongating, colors bleeding into each other. Elara gasped, instinctively reaching for the counter—
Her hand passed through it.
Cold tore through her body. Not freezing—stripping. Like something was peeling layers off her at once.
She screamed.
The scream cut off mid-breath.
And then—
Stone.
Elara hit the ground hard, the impact rattling through her bones. Air punched out of her lungs as rough, cold rock scraped her palms. She lay there, stunned, ears ringing, heart hammering against her ribs.
The smell hit her next.
Damp earth. Old iron. Something faintly sour.
She sucked in a breath—and choked.
The air was heavier here. Thick. Pressed close against her skin.
"Elara," she croaked, just to hear a human voice. "Okay. Okay. You're alive."
Her phone was still in her hand.
The screen glowed softly.
WORLD DUNGEON — ENTRY SUCCESSFUL
Location: UNREGISTERED
Environmental Safety: NOT GUARANTEED
Exit Conditions: UNKNOWN
The screen felt oddly indifferent in her grip—not fragile, not solid, just… unconcerned with where it was.
Before she could process the message, another sensation rolled through her—neither sound nor touch. A presence. Not a voice. Not yet. Just the unmistakable awareness of something layered over her thoughts, waiting.
She scrambled to her feet, panic surging as she looked around.
The room—if it could be called that—was circular, carved directly from stone. The walls were uneven, scarred by something that looked like claws or tools or both. The ceiling curved overhead, low enough that she felt compressed just standing there.
No doors.
No windows.
Just one narrow passageway yawning open across the room, sloping downward into darkness.
"Nope," Elara whispered. "No. Absolutely not."
She spun in a slow circle, checking the walls, running her hands along the cold stone, searching for anything—anything—that suggested this was a prank, a dream, a hallucination.
Her phone buzzed again.
Dormant Access terminated.
Active participation initiated.
The words didn't feel external this time. They settled into her awareness as if they had always been there, waiting for her to notice them.
Her breath hitched.
"Active participation in what?" she demanded, voice shaking.
Silence answered.
The room seemed to listen.
Then, without warning, another notice surfaced—not on the screen, but directly behind her eyes. Crisp. Unmistakable.
COMMUNICATION LINK: PENDING
Group assignment: IN PROGRESS
Visual feed availability: LOCKED (INITIAL PHASE)
A sound drifted from the passageway.
Not loud. Not immediate.
A wet scraping noise. Slow. Patient.
Elara's skin prickled.
Her instincts screamed run—but there was nowhere to go.
She backed toward the far wall, heart pounding, every nerve lit with fear. The scraping grew louder, closer. Something shifted in the darkness, dragging itself forward with deliberate slowness.
Her phone vibrated sharply.
Threat proximity detected.
"Oh my god," Elara breathed.
She scanned the room desperately. No weapons. No tools. Just bare stone and shadows.
The scraping sound resolved into movement—a shape pulling itself into the edge of the light.
It was low to the ground. Pale. Boneless in the wrong ways.
It looked like a mass of waxy flesh stretched over too many joints, its body segmented like a grub's but wider, heavier. Thin, hooked limbs dragged it forward, claws clicking softly against the stone.
No eyes.
Just a vertical slit along the front of its body that opened and closed, tasting the air.
Elara's stomach flipped.
"That's not real," she whispered. "That's not—"
The thing twitched.
Then it lunged.
Elara screamed and ran.
She bolted around the room, feet slipping on damp stone as adrenaline flooded her system. The creature moved faster than it should have, its body compressing and expanding as it skittered after her, claws scraping loudly now.
She darted toward the passageway without thinking—away from the center of the room—and nearly slammed into the wall when she realized it sloped steeply downward.
No choice.
She threw herself into the passage.
Darkness swallowed her.
She tumbled, skin tearing as she slid down the rough stone, hitting the bottom in a painful sprawl. Her shoulder screamed in protest. She bit back a sob, scrambling to her feet.
The passage opened into a wider corridor here, the ceiling higher, the air colder.
The scraping followed.
The creature slithered down after her, faster now, its body slapping wetly against the stone.
Elara's mind raced.
Think. Think. Think.
She spotted a protruding stone column half-collapsed against the wall. Jagged. Sharp.
As the creature lunged again, Elara dodged sideways at the last second. Its body slammed into the column with a sickening thud.
The slit along its front split wider.
It shrieked.
The sound was high and wrong, vibrating through Elara's skull. She clapped her hands over her ears and stumbled back—
—and then something snapped inside her.
Fear didn't vanish.
It focused.
Elara grabbed a broken shard of stone from the floor, its edge sharp enough to cut skin. Her hands shook as she raised it, every instinct screaming that this was impossible, that she couldn't do this—
The creature turned, damaged but still moving, claws scrabbling for purchase.
Elara screamed and drove the stone into the slit.
The resistance was soft. Too soft.
Hot fluid splashed across her hands as the creature convulsed violently, shrieking louder, its limbs flailing.
She stabbed again.
And again.
And again.
Until the thrashing slowed.
Until the shriek choked off into a wet gurgle.
Until the thing collapsed in on itself, its body deflating like punctured flesh.
Elara dropped the stone.
She staggered back, chest heaving, hands slick and shaking. Her knees buckled, and she slid down the wall, breathing in ragged gasps.
"I killed it," she whispered, disbelief flooding her voice. "I—I killed it."
Her phone buzzed.
She flinched.
Threat neutralized.
No congratulations.
No reward.
Just a statement of fact.
Elara hugged her knees to her chest, staring at the corpse as it slowly dissolved into a dark, oily residue that soaked into the stone and vanished.
Her hands were still shaking.
Somewhere deep inside her chest, something settled.
Not relief.
Acceptance.
* * *
MONSTER ENCOUNTER LOG — ENTRY 001
Designation: Unknown
(Provisional: Flesh Grub)
Encounter Location:
Initial Access Chamber — Sublevel Unknown
Threat Level:
Low (Solo Participant)
Description:
Boneless, segmented organism
Waxy, pale flesh
Multiple joint-like compressions allowing rapid contraction
Hooked limb structures used for dragging and sudden lunges
Vertical frontal slit functioning as sensory and intake organ
No visible eyes