-LV3-
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Ryan's consciousness flickered back into existence, his vision blurred, his head pounding like a war drum. Distant voices—urgent, panicked—swam through his ears, muffled as though underwater. He could feel hands shaking him, desperate attempts to pull him back from the abyss. With a gasp, he jolted upright, his body drenched in cold sweat.
The moment he did, chaos came into sharp focus. The group was scrambling, Aaron gripping a makeshift barricade against the door while Linus and Aiden reinforced it with whatever they could find. Helen stood a few feet away, her eyes locked onto Ryan with a mixture of relief and fear.
But it was the sound beyond the door that sent a chill racing down his spine.
Low, guttural growls. Heavy breathing. The telltale scraping of claws against the cold, hard floor.
The barricade wasn't going to hold.
Ryan's grip tightened around the sleek, black metal rod in his hand. It pulsed faintly, as though resonating with him. His body felt—different. Stronger. Lighter. His movements, no longer sluggish, held a newfound sharpness, an awareness that coursed through his veins like wildfire.
He took a step toward the barricade.
Ryan: "Open the door. We fight."
Aaron: "Are you out of your damn mind?!"
Aiden: "If we open it, we're dead—"
Ryan: "If we don't, we're already dead." His voice was sharp, commanding. "You want to sit here, cowering behind a pile of junk, hoping they'll just walk away? Or do you want to survive?"
Andrew: "He's right! We have to stay strong, brothers! If we believe in the power of—"
Ryan shot him a withering look. "Andrew. Not now."
He exhaled, eyes locked on the door. "On three. One. Two. Three."
The barricade was shoved aside. The door flung open.
Two creatures—hound-like, twisted mockeries of hunting dogs—lurched forward the instant the gap appeared.
Entity 8 – "The Hounds" Bipedal yet animalistic, their movements grotesquely unnatural. Black, matted hair cascaded over their bodies, concealing grotesquely elongated limbs. But their most terrifying feature lay in their faces—or rather, the lack thereof. A writhing mess of shifting skin, folding in on itself like an ever-changing nightmare.
The first leapt at Ryan. He was faster.
The black rod in his hand whistled through the air. A brutal downswing connected with the creature's skull, sending a sickening crunch echoing through the corridor. It staggered, stunned.
Ryan wasted no time.
"Aaron! Take the other!" he barked, tossing a second rod toward him.
Aaron caught it, barely regaining his footing before the second beast lunged at him. Andrew and Linus reacted instantly, throwing themselves at it. Chaos exploded in the confined space—wild swings, desperate movements.
Ryan drove his weapon downward, pinning his opponent. Then, with relentless force, he rained down blows, each impact cracking bone, tearing through flesh. He didn't stop until the thrashing ceased.
Across the room, the others unleashed a barrage of kicks, stomps, and desperate strikes, pummeling their foe into a pulp of twitching limbs and shattered bone.
The air was thick with the stench of iron. The floor, slick with blood.
Helen, standing at a distance, felt her breath hitch.
Ryan just took down an Entity 8 by himself.
Ryan: "We keep moving."
He turned on his heel, stepping over the mangled remains without hesitation. Helen hesitated, then hurried to his side.
Helen: "Hey… can I walk behind you?"
Ryan smirked. "Wow. You actually talk to someone other than Sacium? That's rare."
Helen's cheeks reddened. "Shut up!"
Ryan chuckled, patting her head. "Sacium was right. You do look cute when you're flustered. Let's go."
Aaron, grumbling, took up the rear. Andrew, still riding the high of their victory, walked just ahead, muttering about how he was clearly the protagonist of this story.
Ryan ignored him. He was focused on something else.
Something was wrong.
He could hear them. The entities. Their movements. Their breathing. The low, distorted murmurs that slipped through the walls like whispers of the damned. He avoided danger before it even appeared, leading the group through the labyrinthine halls with an eerie precision.
Helen noticed.
How does he know? How is he so… aware?
They reached another room. Ryan swept through drawers, searching. Nothing.
Helen's gaze flicked downward. Two flashlights, discarded on the ground.
She reached for them—
Then stopped.
Down the hall, a figure emerged.
A woman in a white dress. Long hair veiling her face.
The group froze.
Aiden: "W-what the hell is that?"
Ryan: "Don't. Move. Don't. Provoke. It."
Helen, fingers still wrapped around the flashlights, barely breathed.
The figure tilted its head.
Then, it pointed. Past itself.
Ryan: "Thank you."
Without hesitation, he led the group forward, slipping past the entity. Helen's heart hammered as she passed it, too afraid to look directly. When they reached the room beyond, Ryan spoke.
Ryan: "Entity 9 – 'The Faceless.' Non
Andrew: "Ohhh."
Ryan: "Search. Anything useful. Preferably bottles that smell like ice cream cones."
They scoured the room. Within minutes, they had an abundance of almond water and… spray guns?
Then—
A soft click.
The door opened.
Everyone froze.
Then—
Sacium.
The relief was immediate—then instantly replaced by resentment. The group eyed him with thinly veiled contempt. He always disappeared when things got rough, only to return when something valuable was found.
Helen watched as Sacium stepped into the room, but instead of relief or joy, an unfamiliar sense of irritation welled up inside her. It was subtle at first, a quiet unease creeping into her mind, but the longer she looked at him, the stronger it became. She had always admired him—his confidence, his sharp mind, the way he carried himself with an air of effortless control. But now, something about his presence unsettled her.
It wasn't that he had changed. No, Sacium was still the same person—the same sharp-tongued strategist, the same ever-resourceful survivor. He was Ryan's closest friend, his unwavering companion through every trial they had faced together. Objectively, nothing was different.
And yet, everything felt different.
The way he walked in, just in time to reap the benefits of Ryan's efforts, as if he had been waiting for the right moment. The way the others eyed him with thinly veiled resentment, their gazes heavy with the unspoken accusation that he was more of an opportunist than an ally. The way Ryan, despite his easygoing nature, held himself just a little too relaxed around him—as if he had already accepted this dynamic, as if he had long since grown used to carrying the weight while Sacium merely followed in his shadow.
Helen clenched her hands into fists. Was this frustration always there? Had she simply ignored it until now? Or was it only because, for the first time, she wasn't just watching from the sidelines—she was part of this struggle, feeling the exhaustion, the fear, the desperation clawing at her nerves?
Sacium was still Ryan's best friend. That hadn't changed.
But maybe—just maybe—Helen's perception of him had.
Sacium: "Hey, Ryan. Pass me some water."
Ryan tossed him a bottle. Sacium caught it, downed a mouthful, then smirked.
Sacium: "By the way, that's Royal Rations. Be careful—it's addictive."
He threw something at Ryan, who caught it easily.
Sacium: "Found an elevator. But…"
Ryan: "But?"
Sacium: "It's guarded. Four male Entity 4s. And one female."
Entity 4 – 'Death Moths' Massive, moth-like creatures. The males, pretty docile unless you have some light source in. The female… lethal.
Ryan: "Tricky."
Sacium: "If we can lure the males away with a light source, we might be able to slip past the female. But where do we get a reliable one?"
Helen's grip tightened around the flashlights.
She stepped forward.
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