Ron Irus woke up in a place with a hazy atmosphere, except for the ground which was as soft as if it had just passed through a heavy rain.
He saw nothing, because the surrounding space was entirely pitch black, not exactly black, but a deep raven hue.
Strange, he could not see further than 3 meters, and standing up did not help at all.
Ron decided to check his body only to find that besides his clothes which had been burnt to ashes, he had nothing left.
Ron had to take the torn pieces of fabric from the ground, pick them up then tie them around his arms. Regardless of what they were, they were among the few things he had; leaving them in one place felt wrong, perhaps they would be used for the future.
Then he walked, but instead of walking straight ahead in one go, he used a thread connected to the ground, while also using a thin scorched strip of fabric to swing in front of him. This made people feel he was truly strange and oddly cautious. Quite weird, but anyway no one was here to look at him.
Ron worked as diligently as an ant building a nest; both had to work to live, but Ron seemed more extreme, while the ants were more numerous.
Ron kept walking, walking forever, but after about a few minutes, he realized a strange thing.
He stood still, his hand looking at the ground, then looked at the string again, he secretly thought one thing.
'Broken', about 3 seconds ago the thread no longer had tension, 'Something is wrong'.
There was something, something that he could not clearly identify, he only knew he could lose his life at any moment.
'I am stuck, what is the space here, what are the rules, is there anyone else besides me, is everything a mystery?'
If one must calculate a plan, at least one needs to know who the opponent they face is, or to survive one also needs to know where they are and in what state.
'Wait, there is a way to know, should I?'
Ron picked up a bit of soil, sniffed it then put it in his mouth, less than 1 second later he spat it out of his mouth and bent over vomiting.
He did not expect soil that looked fertile like this to have the smell of a dead rat, and the feeling of the soil on the tip of his tongue was full of a disgusting monstrosity, feeling like eating a pile of dog feces mixed with human mucus.
Ron tried to rub his tongue against the strip of fabric that still had a bit of heat to wash away the existing disgust. But then he saw what he did not want to see at all.
Unexpectedly he was vomiting blood, wait, something was not right, the blood did not gush from his throat but from his tongue.
His tongue had been torn apart by that soil, his entire tongue fell to the ground forming a deformed mangled mass.
"U-Uhh~"
He tried to emit a voice, a cry, a scream, but then he suddenly fell silent.
Because... he no longer felt pain, from the beginning he had felt nothing, his tongue had been destroyed right before the nerve receptors could sense it.
But then how did he still know its taste?
Perhaps due to the inherent characteristics of this place? If the soil was disgusting from the start then why did he not smell the stench from the beginning?
Ron did not know, but he realized another thing about himself.
'Why was he not affected when touching it'.
There are many types of toxins that can be understood as causing toxicity both on the skin and inside, but there are also types that only cause it in the stomach, yet this, it was more like acid.
Then it was easy to understand why the thread was broken, but at the same time there were still too many mysteries.
'Why is this place so strange? Why did the thread only break after a while? Why was I fine walking on the ground? Why could I only see clearly within 3 meters around me.
And why... is there a podium hall before my eyes?'
Indeed, before Ron vomited uncontrollably, there was nothing before his eyes, not even a mist, then suddenly a place looking like a square manifested here.
Here there were about several dozen black blue gypsum stone pillars, some long some short, but generally all near each other in height.
All were planted on an obsidian stone floor, no design, no imagery, just when the soil ended, the obsidian began.
Ron hesitated for a few seconds then slowly stepped toward the hall, his footsteps heavy and clearly uncomfortable, seemingly feeling like a drunkard.
When his footprint landed on the obsidian stone, suddenly the whole space seemed to pause for a beat, then a series of giant noises echoed, sounding like tons of metal colliding.
And then, one second, only one second, dozens of giant chains coiled around the pillars, then they crossed over each other like chain bridges.
Forming the letters: J-O-E-J-O-A-T-H-A-N-E.
'Jojoethane? Joejo Thane? Jojeoth Ane? What on earth?'
Ron looked at that sight, instinctively stepping back a pace, but then he bumped into something.
A bizarre figure, no clothes, a skinny male body, but on it appeared a faceless countenance, having nothing at all on the head.
Ron did not scream, he just stood still, stood waiting, shock along with instinct had made him unable to utter a word, then he collapsed, tears streaming down, his pants completely soaked.
As for that faceless being, it pointed toward the square, Ron turned his head back, he closed one eye, only revealing 1 eye due to fear.
And it was truly horrific.
Each face skin, each set of faces of people very familiar to him, those were the people of the orphanage, all had been flayed and hung up like a festival flag, a trophy.
Ron could not utter a word, he could not speak, but it was in such chaos.
Ron turned around, about to run when he was grabbed by the arm by that faceless being.
Ron decisively pulled the knot of the fabric on his arm, causing that being to slip from his hand. Then Ron immediately ran in the direction of the thread away from this place.
He ran, ran forever in the direction of the string, even when passing the place where the thread broke, the end of the thread, he did not look back, running until he saw a glimmer of a mysterious white light.
He ran for an unknown amount of time, even not thinking that he ran so far to meet a white glowing figure.
And then he again saw at that white light, the faceless being was again pointing toward the distance, behind him.
Ron's face turned pale, trying to run back in the opposite direction, but then he fell, fell flat, like a failure, a person scared of death in a horror movie, achieving nothing at all.
But he could not imagine, right at this critical moment, he saw a microphone pointing toward him.