Thump… Thump…
The rhythmic sound echoed through the vast emptiness of the abandoned warehouse, while Eric stood at Yang Tao's side, carefully recording every detail of their surroundings.
Compared with Level 0, the structure of Level 1 was remarkably stable, exerting little strain upon the mind.
Yang Tao labored tirelessly at the warehouse walls, breaking apart shelves, crates, pipes, lamps, and signboards—anything his eyes happened to fall upon became his target.
Yet most of these scattered objects yielded little, each containing no more than one to three points of energy. Only rare items imbued with unique properties—such as Almond Water—could provide anything of true worth. But such treasures were hardly scattered at one's feet.
"Yang, look!"
Eric raised his hand and pointed toward the ceiling. Yang Tao froze mid-swing, drew a stone axe from his pack, and braced for battle.
But when he followed the gesture upward, what he found was no entity at all, but scarlet graffiti scrawled across the concrete above:
[Would you like to join our party? =)]
"Yang, I swear to you—this writing wasn't here before."
Yang Tao gave a grave nod.
Though Level 1 was stable, stability did not mean immunity from anomalies. This was one of them.
He spoke with deliberate weight:"Eric, remember this—under no circumstances are you to touch graffiti that appears without warning. It is bait from the Partygoers."
Eric nodded solemnly, trusting Yang Tao's words completely, even though Yang Tao scarcely seemed human at all.
"And if one were to touch it…?"
"Then you join the party. Either you are remade as a new Partygoer—or reduced into cupcakes to be served at their feast."
A wise man does not linger beneath a crumbling wall.
"Eric, that's enough for now. I'll take you back to rest."
It was not hidden ambushes that troubled him, but rather the risk of Eric's accidental infection.
Entity C-233, better known as the Partygoer, was an aggressive creature possessed of its own mind. Its "face" bore a grotesque cartoonish smile drawn from crimson ichor. At the ends of its arms gaped circular maws, like those of lampreys or crimson worms, ringed with razored teeth.
Partygoers possessed the dreadful ability to assimilate wanderers. When those teeth punctured flesh, a brownish fluid known as PTG-A seeped into the bloodstream, infiltrating the central nervous system. Within hours, the victim's mind succumbed, and within a day, their very body reshaped itself into one of the fiends.
Yang Tao himself could afford to die and respawn—but to lose his only companion, his "tool man" who could actually converse, was another matter entirely.
"Open!"
At his command, the reassuring wooden door shimmered into existence. Yang Tao pushed it wide, and together they stepped into the [Overworld].
"If you're hungry, I still have a bottle of Almond Water."
Eric shook his head. "Not now. I've only been observing—not much exertion, so my reserves are fine."
Yang Tao did not press the offer, simply tossed the gray flask back into his pack and pulled up his status.
[Energy: 12,487]
"Twelve thousand… good enough. Upgrade!"
Eric, bewildered, heard the murmur—but his astonishment grew as the gray fog-walls of the space abruptly dissolved, revealing a far broader expanse.
The mosaic of gray [Bedrock] beneath their feet shimmered and shifted, transfigured into lush green [Grass Blocks]. A lone, square [Oak Tree] sprouted from the fresh earth.
You can control this world?
Eric's eyes widened nearly to bursting. He had thought Yang Tao's talk of ownership was mere metaphor—that the man had simply claimed a pocket realm for himself. But this? This transformation bore an undeniable connection between this realm and the strange man standing before him.
Yang Tao frowned at the result."Only doubled? Bedrock swapped for grass? At least give me a chunk-sized area."
Producing a stone shovel, he struck into the [Grass Block], revealing dull [Stone] beneath. His lips curved into a grin.
"Better than nothing. Let's see if there's ore below."
He dug three layers deep before bedrock rose once more.
He clicked his tongue. "Generous, but not overly so…"
The place resembled Minecraft's flat worlds, with a stingy three layers of stone.
Climbing back out, his gaze fell upon the solitary [Oak Tree].
"Yang… is this your ability?" Eric asked, watching the motionless tree swaying without wind.
"More or less. Note it down in your little book if you must, but give me a better designation this time."
Eric, ever the recorder, had long ceased to treat Yang Tao as human, compiling countless observations about him.
Think of him less as a scientist and more as a chronicler—and he became a historian, a scribe of legends to be carried forward in the annals of the Backrooms.
"A designation?"
"Yes. A proper one. One day, I'll bring you to M.E.G.—they have archives full of knowledge about these levels."
Eric asked no further. Too many questions only bred more confusion. His duty was to preserve the essentials before memory could fade.
Yang Tao smiled faintly as he saw the notebook come out once more. At times, he truly admired such men—those who bore their mission without faltering, without forgetting.
Which is why he never had the heart to tell Eric the truth—that his chances of ever leaving this place were nearly zero.
The [Oak Tree] was precisely as it appeared in Minecraft. Yang Tao raised his stone axe and struck its cubic trunk. The familiar mosaic of cracks spread with each blow.
"Only five blocks of oak? Tch. This is practically Skyblock."
The leaves hung in the air, defying gravity. Yang Tao silently prayed: Drop a sapling… please drop a sapling.
Without a sapling, who could know when another tree might be found?
He refrained from breaking the floating leaves, instead allowing them to wither away naturally. He had a vague superstition—though false—that natural decay gave better odds of saplings.
And then, as he waited, another wooden door materialized upon the wall.
Through it stepped a bespectacled boy, frozen in shock at the threshold.