James's arms ached as he sliced through the churning waves, his strokes frantic and uneven. The shore was tantalizingly close, the pale sand shimmering under the harsh sun, but the tidal wave's roar thundered behind him, a relentless force. His lungs burned, saltwater stinging his eyes, yet he pushed forward. The system screen's warning 5 minutes until shoreline impact pulsed in his mind, each second a hammer against his resolve. He had to reach the shore. He had to survive.
His feet grazed sand, and he stumbled upright, water streaming from his sodden clothes. The beach stretched endlessly before him, framed by distant dunes and patches of coarse grass. His chest heaved, his headache throbbing in sync with his racing heart. The others from the sea were scattered across the shore, some sprinting, others staggering, their figures blurred by panic and spray. James didn't linger to watch. His only thought was escape.
As he lurched forward, a shadow loomed beyond the dunes: a ginormous mansion, its sprawling silhouette dominating the horizon. Ten wooden walkways, weathered and creaking, stretched from the beach to its base, each one a fragile thread leading to the colossal structure. The mansion's size was mind-boggling, its towers and gables clawing at the sky, walls sprawling wider than the beach itself. James froze for a moment, shocked. How had he not seen this from the ocean? It was as if the building had materialized from nowhere, a monolith defying reason.
The walkways swayed in the wind, their planks splintered but beckoning. Shelter. It had to be shelter. James sprinted toward them, boots sinking into the sand. Why ten walkways? The question flickered, but he dismissed it. No time for doubt. His eyes scanned the paths, landing on the fourth. It felt right, a gut pull he couldn't explain. He veered toward it, the sand dragging at his steps.
The walkway groaned under his weight, slick with sea mist. He ran, heart pounding, the wave's roar growing louder. Halfway across, he glanced back, checking the wave's distance. His foot caught on a loose plank, and he stumbled, crashing into something solid. A figure, indistinct and fleeting, jerked away from the impact. James caught only a blur of movement, no face, no details, before it vanished, dissolving into the air like mist.
Something clattered onto the wood. A small, metallic key glinted in the sunlight. James stared, breath hitching. Before he could grab it, the key shimmered and melted into his hand, a strange warmth spreading through his fingers. A system screen flickered before his eyes, blue text stark and cryptic:
??? Acquired.
"What the hell?" James rasped, voice swallowed by the wind. His mind reeled. A figure that vanished? A key that absorbed into him? The screen gave no answers, only that cryptic message before fading. His headache pulsed, but the wave's roar snapped him back. No time. He had to move.
He sprinted the rest of the walkway, the planks creaking beneath him. The mansion loomed, its decaying facade a maze of cracked stone and peeling paint. Its sheer scale overwhelmed him with towers spiraling into the clouds and windows like dark eyes staring down. He reached the stone platform at the walkway's end, stumbling before a massive wooden door. He yanked the handle.
Locked. Of course.
The wave's roar was deafening, shaking the air. James's heart slammed against his chest. He searched for a keyhole, but the door was smooth, unyielding. The key, whatever it was, wasn't physical. Panic surged. The wave's shadow darkened the beach, its crest curling closer. His eyes darted to a shattered window nearby, its jagged edges glinting.
No choice. James grabbed a loose plank, wrapping his sleeve around his hand, and smashed the window. Glass sprayed, shards biting his palm. He cleared the frame and hauled himself through, tumbling into the mansion's interior.
He landed on a dusty wooden floor, the air thick with mildew and decay. Dim light revealed a cavernous room cluttered with strange relics. Rusty scythes leaned against walls, blades dulled by time. A cracked plow sat in a corner, draped in cobwebs. Crates overflowed with ancient farming tools such as sickles, hoes, and a warped rake strewn as if abandoned mid-use. The sight deepened his disorientation. A mansion this vast, filled with farming relics? It made no sense.
James stood, breath ragged. The system screen? The vanishing figure? The mysterious key? His mind churned, grasping for meaning, but answers slipped away. His headache throbbed, a reminder of his missing memories. What is this place? The question echoed from the beach, unanswered. Was this a game? A trap? The relics felt like pieces of a puzzle he couldn't solve.
The wave's roar outside grew louder, vibrating through the walls. The mansion groaned, as if bracing for impact. James scanned for an exit, a staircase, anything to escape the coming flood. The room offered no clear path, only shadows and relics. His hand brushed a sickle, its handle cold and rough. He pulled back, unnerved.
The system's warning reverberated in his mind, a constant reminder of the danger he still faces. How much time remained? Two minutes? Less? The mansion was his only shelter, yet its vastness felt like a labyrinth hiding secrets he couldn't grasp. He moved deeper, boots scuffing the floor, each step a question. Why was he here? What was the key? What came next?
The air thickened, the wave's roar acting as a constant pressure. James's heart pounded, his thoughts a storm of fear and confusion. He was alone, stripped of memories, thrown into a world bent on breaking him. But he was alive. For now, that had to be enough.