Huff… huff…
A man clad in a yellow hazmat suit panted like a bellows, his breath echoing harshly as he sprinted through a labyrinthine space.The place was composed entirely of rooms lined with endless yellow wallpaper.Overhead, the incandescent lights crackled with a piercing buzz, but he had no time to dwell on it—for a towering monstrosity, nearly three meters tall, was pursuing him relentlessly.
Damn it—why is there a creature here?!
The abomination was formed of writhing, wire-like sinews, its grotesque limbs stretching forward like desperate tendrils.From its black, fish-drum-shaped head erupted a shriek so sharp it pierced the air, though nothing about its tangled frame suggested it even possessed a throat.He dared not glance back, nor even slow his stride.Adrenaline numbed his exhaustion, but the hopelessness of such a flight gnawed at him, threatening to drown him in terror.
Just as despair tightened its grip, a door materialized in his sight—a simple wooden door embedded in the yellow wall.
A door?!
A surge of desperate strength welled up inside him, urging his weary body forward.To enter might mean death, but not to enter meant certain death—there was no true choice.He hurled himself against the door with all his might. In an instant, the monster's screech faded into silence, and he crashed heavily to the ground beyond.
Flat on his back, he gazed through his visor at the ashen sky above.I survived…
The throbbing ache in his legs left him unwilling to move."What is this place? There's no record of it in the files… could this be a new level?"
Before he could rise, a voice, laden with smoldering fury, resounded behind him:"I was imprisoned for ten thousand years and cast out from my homeland.And now you dare trespass upon m
The words—so melodramatic in tone—froze him in place.A young man now stood at his back: an Asian male in his twenties, plain in dress—a blue T-shirt, ordinary denim jeans—yet his eyes regarded him with a chilling calm.
That flamboyant proclamation was absurd, even laughable, but the man on the ground did not so much as twitch.Not when a longsword, forged of countless pale-gray blocks, hovered at his throat.
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Yang Tao. Welcome to my world."
It was the first time in his life he had ever been welcomed at swordpoint—and he hoped it would be the last.
Yet strangely, though the young man spoke no English, every word reached his mind with crystal clarity.In such a place, nothing could be taken lightly. Forcing his nerves steady, he asked cautiously:"Are you a wanderer? What is this place?"
The atmosphere here was utterly different from the Level 0 he had just fled, which was why the question pressed so urgently on his tongue.
Wanderer—the name given to those who stumbled into the Backrooms.And the Backrooms themselves were the hidden Inner Halls, a world apart from the Frontrooms—the reality men once called home.There were many ways to slip inside: clipping through a wall like in CrossFire, tumbling backward while filming with a camera, and countless other accidents both absurd and uncanny.
Yang Tao's heart stirred at the sight of this yellow-suited figure who could actually speak with him. His earlier theatrical outburst had been nothing but the pent-up madness of a week spent trapped in this strange gray-misted realm. No matter what method he tried, escape proved impossible. The ground beneath his feet—bedrock itself—could not be broken.
Yes, bedrock, the indestructible block of Minecraft, impervious in survival or adventure mode.
And his so-called cheat… well, it was less a cheat than a transformation. He had become Steve of Minecraft.He possessed health, hunger, inventory, quickbar—everything Steve had—save that he was not a blocky caricature, but flesh and blood.
"This place?" Yang Tao gave a faint smile. "Didn't I already tell you? This is my world."
His gaze swept over the faceless visor, then he added,"Now sit up. Remove your mask. I need to see your face and confirm you're human."
From the first moment, the yellow suit had felt oddly familiar. When the man asked if he was a wanderer, Yang Tao had already guessed his origins.
After a pause of hesitation, the man slowly lifted off the hood.Beneath appeared a golden-haired, blue-eyed Westerner, handsome by any measure—save for the bloodshot eyes and pallid complexion that marred his beauty.
"Good. Now answer me honestly. What is your name? You may invent one if you wish—I only need something to call you.And where do you come from?"
Even as he questioned him, Yang Tao kept the stone blade tight at his throat, ready to strike at the slightest provocation.
"My name is Erik—you may call me that. I come from Level 0. I was being hunted by an entity when I stumbled into this place. If I have trespassed, I offer my apologies."
At the mention of Level 0, Yang Tao's suspicions crystallized. The Backrooms… weren't they supposed to be only an urban legend?
In 2019, a photograph had spread across 4chan: a corridor smothered in yellow wallpaper, dim lights glowing sickly above. Harmless at first glance—until someone commented, If you slip out of reality in the wrong place, you'll find yourself in the Backrooms.
Thus the myth was born.
Well… since I've already become Steve, slipping into the Backrooms isn't the strangest fate to accept. The question is—which version of the Backrooms is this?
There were many interpretations—fandom, wikidot, Kane.Though they shared some core ideas, their differences were vast.
And therein lay the confusion: the "yellow-suited wanderer" appeared only in the Kane variant, yet that version had no concept of levels at all.
It was maddening.
With a flicker, the stone sword vanished from Yang Tao's hand.Meeting Erik's wary eyes, he extended his palm.
"Erik," he said with a measured smile, "it's a pleasure to meet you."