He doesn't reply. His eyes dart frantically, scanning for escape routes while his pulse hammers in his throat. "STAY STILL!" barks the man in blood-stained rags, gripping his shoulder. "One wrong move and those wounds might tear you open like wet paper." Pain sears through his body—he's covered in deep, jagged lacerations. The man's eyes narrow. "Window shards," he mutters, "when we broke in. You were too close." LIES. The wounds are savage, deliberate—carved by something far worse than glass. Fear paralyzes him as the man suddenly announces, "We're HERE." The mountain before them splits open with a thunderous crack, revealing a cavernous passage. Inside, nightmare figures Like people stare with hollow eyes—limbless torsos, faces with chunks of flesh carved away. "Welcome," the man whispers, "To the sector .The place where all kind of horror and tales exists."
"Listen carefully," the man hissed, his eyes darting to the shadows. "Nine sectors exist in this hell. We're trapped in the bottom three—7, 8, 9—where death stalks every corner. The middle sectors—4, 5, 6—are bloodbaths for territory. And the top? Sectors 1, 2, 3?" His voice dropped to a reverent whisper. "Gods walk there. GODS." He grabbed #### by the collar. "The only escape is 'The Exit,' but finding it..." He laughed bitterly. "Every six months, a single item materializes in our sector. This shelter? Won it in a massacre. Three factions rule here: The Shadows—silent killers who appear from nowhere; us, 'The Angels'—" He cut #### off with a sharp gesture. "And the 'Insane Bastards'—savages who'll tear your flesh for sport. They outnumber everyone, but we..." His eyes gleamed. "We have something far deadlier than numbers." He suddenly relaxed. "Hungry?" #### nodded cautiously, knowing they wouldn't kill him—yet. They'd had plenty of chances already.
Chunks of glistening meat slammed onto the metal table, blood pooling beneath the raw, pink flesh. #### stared, his throat constricting. A question about the meat died in his throat when he realized intelligence might be a death sentence here. The man's eyes locked onto his, predatory. "What's your skill? Nobody survives here without one." The unspoken threat hung between them—answer wrong and join whatever poor bastards were currently being digested. #### gambled: "Medical student." The man's lips curled into a smile that never touched his eyes. "We'll see. Eat first. A good lamb is a full lamb." The first bite hit #### like a sledgehammer—copper-sweet, gamey yet familiar. His stomach revolted as recognition dawned. Human. Unmistakably human. He forced himself to swallow, keeping his face blank as death. "How was it?" the man asked, eyes glittering with malice. #### met his gaze unflinchingly. "You know exactly how it is. And so do I." The man's expression hardened. "Follow me if you want to live. Time to test those skills."
The man led him down a spiraling stone staircase that descended into darkness, the walls slick with condensation that caught the flickering light of a crude torch—nothing more than a splintered branch wrapped with oil-soaked rags. The stench hit #### first: a nauseating mixture of blood, excrement, and something sickly sweet that clung to the back of his throat. Then came the sounds—moans that seemed barely human echoing against stone. When his eyes adjusted, #### froze. Women lined the walls in rusted cages, their swollen bellies grotesque against emaciated frames. Many were missing arms or legs, cauterized stumps black with infection. One woman, her eye sockets empty weeping holes, rocked back and forth, chanting in a cracked voice, "Let my child live, he did nothing wrong." Cell 381 was marked with charcoal on crumbling brick. Inside, a woman lay on filthy straw, her face contorted in agony, legs spread wide as dark fluid pooled beneath her. "Before you," the man said, his breath hot against ####'s ear, "we left it to luck. Time to prove those skills. Not scared, are you?" #### swallowed the bile rising in his throat. "Scalpel." The man's eyebrows shot up. "We only have stone knives." He held up a jagged, crudely chipped blade. #### eyed the primitive tool. "Disinfect it with lime water or she'll die of infection." Surprise flickered across the man's face as he signaled to a guard. "You're not bluffing." He studied #### with newfound interest. "I'm Michael Miller. And you are?" #### barely hesitated. "Dex... Author. My name is Dex Author.