Dylan moved deeper into the corridor, keeping one hand on the wall as he went. Partly to help guide him, partly to keep him grounded. The tunnel sloped slightly downward, the air changing the further he went—cool at first, then warmer. The combination made him feel as if he were descending into hell. The stillness carried its own story, a thick, ancient smell rising from air that had been trapped far too long.
He followed the bend in the hallway, taking each step with care. His shoes tapped against the damp patches scattered across the metal, sharp little plops that felt too loud in the quiet. Every sound made him feel exposed, like he was announcing his position to whatever might be listening in the dark.
The fungus along the walls thinned out as he walked. The soft blue-green clusters faded into scattered patches, leaving longer stretches lit only by the overhead lights. Those lights flickered in and out, never holding steady, giving him just enough illumination to see maybe thirty feet ahead at a time.
He adjusted his grip on the pipe. The metal felt slick with his own sweat, and he forced his breathing to slow. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered what good a pipe would actually do if he ran into whatever was stalking these halls, but he shoved the thought down before it could settle. It was the only thing he had—his only bit of protection, the only weight in his hand that made him feel even a little less exposed.
A faint thump reached him from somewhere behind him—light, but clear enough that he knew it wasn't his imagination.
He froze and listened. No sound followed—just the hum beneath the floor and the distant hiss of a pipe venting somewhere deeper in the dark. He waited a few seconds longer before forcing himself forward, each step slower than the last. When the noise came again, he couldn't pretend he'd imagined it this time. Claws against metal. The same rhythm as before. Whatever he'd glimpsed near the water was trailing him now.
A door hung partially open on the left side of the corridor, frozen mid-cycle like the power had died halfway through its command. Dylan paused at the threshold and leaned in just far enough to see inside. Nothing moved. The room was small and cramped, cluttered with overturned metal crates and shards of glass scattered across the floor. A single overhead light still worked, dimming in a slow pulse that matched the flicker of the hallway bulbs but never going fully dark. The steady glow wasn't much, but in a place like this, even a stubborn light was comforting.
The opening was just wide enough for him to squeeze through—barely. If something was hiding in there, he wouldn't have much room to escape. But the same tight space would slow down whatever was trailing him, and right now that felt like the best trade he was going to get.
The glass looked like it had once belonged to vials or tubes. Most of it lay in glittering fragments across the floor, edges dulled by time and dust, and nothing big enough to help him. Metal shelving lined the walls, stripped bare. He crouched beside a pile of shards—not daring to touch for risk of cutting himself, but close enough to try to imagine what had been here before it all fell apart.
Some of the fragments still held residue—thin streaks of something dark, almost black clinging to the inner curve of the glass. Time had ruined whatever it used to be, but he doubted he would've recognized it anyway, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. One shard caught the flickering overhead lights, and the smear inside it glistened—viscous, almost fresh. He didn't know what could stay like that after so long. Or maybe this place hadn't been abandoned nearly as long as he'd thought.
He stood again, scanning the shadows along the ceiling. Pipes crisscrossed above him, some hissing quietly, others dripping. Where the drips struck the metal floor, faint blue light shimmered from thin fungal growths along the seams. The glow traveled up the vein-like structures before disappearing into a mass he could only guess was buried within the walls.
Another thump echoed through the hall, closer this time.
Dylan's breath caught. He backed up until he could see the corridor through the doorway again. The lights flickered from orange to white, then back. Nothing moved—no shadow stretching across the floor, no silhouette jumping into view. But the sound was close now, close enough that he could make out the faint shuffling of whatever was moving toward his hiding spot.
He stayed in the doorway a moment longer, his grip on the pipe tightening, eyes locked on the hallway. Then the sound shifted—the shuffling moved in the other direction, back toward the room he'd started in. Even after it faded, he waited. When nothing emerged, he slipped back into the corridor, spine pressed to the wall, pulse hammering in his throat.
He didn't move at first. He kept his back against the wall, pipe raised, listening hard. He didn't have many options. Going back the way he came wasn't happening—not with whatever that thing was behind him. It wasn't like he was leaving anything important behind anyway. So forward it was. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and stepped away from the door.
The sound of broken glass cut through the hum of machinery like a gun shot. A quick glance down revealed a lone vial that must have rolled out of the room. If his pulse had been hammering before, it was a full-on stampede now. The silence that followed felt like it stretched forever, and he would've taken forever gladly. But the quiet broke with a heavy thump echoing down the corridor.
The creature had heard him, and it was coming to investigate.
Not wanting to be caught in the corridor, he pushed himself forward, keeping his steps steady. Running would make too much noise, and noise would only confirm he was prey. He edged around the next bend, careful not to let his boots splash through the thin streams trickling along the floor. The corridor narrowed here, the walls pressing closer, fungus clustering in thicker patches around the seams. He kept his shoulder against the metal and moved.
Behind him, the steps grew more regular—slow, testing, matching his pace from a distance. Dylan didn't look back. He focused on the next door, the next corner, anywhere he could duck into if things went bad. He needed to think fast. He passed a doorway that opened into a large chamber—too open, too exposed. He kept going.
At the end of a long corridor, another thump sounded behind him—close enough that he looked back without meaning to. A weak stutter of orange light flickered overhead. For a split second, he caught movement farther down the hall: a low shape hugging the ground, roughly the size of a large dog, moving with a strange, twitching rhythm. It wasn't crawling, but it didn't walk right either. The limbs were too long and too thin, joints bending at angles that made something in his brain flinch. It paused near a patch of fungus, its head—or whatever counted as a head—tilting toward the floor. Sniffing. Searching. And then the lights went out again.
He ducked behind the nearest corner and held his breath. The steps continued, soft but unmistakable. He gripped the pipe tighter. The metal felt slick—sweat mixed with the subtle layer of grime that coated everything here. He wiped his palm against his pants, forcing his breathing to steady.
Whatever that thing was, it had followed him from the water room, only losing him for a moment when he'd slipped into the small side chamber. He didn't know how far it planned to follow, but the slow, searching rhythm of its steps made it clear it wasn't giving up. And he was certain he wouldn't like what it intended to do if it caught up to him.
He eased forward again, careful not to brush the fungus that lined the walls. Some of it twitched faintly as he passed, reacting to the movement of air, but he couldn't bring himself to worry about that right now. The corridor opened slightly, giving him a longer line of sight ahead. He searched for anywhere safer—an alcove, another room, anything—but everything here seemed built for confinement, not escape.
The steps behind him stopped suddenly. Silence swelled between the seconds, stretched thin enough to hurt. He waited, every muscle pulled tight. Then the creature exhaled—a wet, dragging breath that carried just far enough to reach him. It knew he was close.
Dylan swallowed hard and forced himself to keep moving. Keeping distance was the only advantage he had, and even that felt fragile. He reached another doorway—a narrow one this time, partly collapsed by debris piled along one side. He slipped through sideways, metal shards scraping his apron, and stepped into a cramped room littered with more broken shelving.
He crouched low, pipe ready. He didn't plan to fight—not if he could help it. This was concealment, not a stand. Outside, the steps resumed. Slow. Intent. Coming closer. Dylan braced, breath shallow, as the creature's shadow stretched across the hall.
Dylan pressed himself into the narrow gap between two collapsed shelves, trying to make himself as small as possible. The room smelled of rust and old coolant, an acrid bite that settled at the back of his throat. He focused on his breathing, keeping it slow despite his heart pounding like he'd just finished a marathon.
The footsteps reached the doorway. A faint scrape sounded—claws? Nails? Something dragging lightly across the metal floor as the creature oriented itself. Dylan clamped his jaw shut and stayed absolutely still.
The overhead light flickered again, throwing a broken pattern across the hallway floor. In that stuttering glow, a shape moved into view. Low to the ground. Too low. Its spine arched high and sharp in ways that didn't make sense—like something had crushed it and the bone had grown back wrong. Patches of blue fungus clung to its body in irregular patterns, each pulsing faintly, like something breathing beneath the skin.
The creature's head jerked in small, twitchy angles, sniffing without really using its nose. Its eyes were useless, clouded over with a milky film that made them look dead.
What wasn't dead was the rest of it. Its limbs were long and thin, ending in claws that clicked softly against the metal. Careful. Testing. A tail trailed behind it—at least as long as its body, thick at the base and heavy at the end, like someone had fused a club onto its spine.
It froze momentarily in the hallway, its large tail lifting slowly before slamming down against the metal floor. The creature stayed still after the impact, head tilted as if listening to the echoes sliding back through the ground.
Was this thing using echolocation?
Its chest rose and fell in shallow, rapid breaths. Fungal strands twitched across its ribs, glowing faint blue where veins surfaced. When it lifted its head toward him, Dylan felt himself freeze, bracing for the inevitable moment it charged through the gap in the debris.
But it didn't enter the room. Instead, it lowered its head to the ground. The air rasped as it sniffed along the seam in the floor. Dylan watched a ripple travel from its neck down its spine, like the entire creature tensing at once.
It was close enough that he could hear the faint, wet sound of its breathing—a steady pull in, push out rhythm. When the light flickered again, he caught only the impression of a jawline too narrow, an eye filmed over with blindness, and skin that didn't seem meant to stretch over the shape beneath it.
The creature paused longer this time. Dylan's heartbeat thudded hard enough that he worried the motion might nudge the shelving against his shoulder. He dug his nails into his palm and held himself still. The creature's head tilted toward the room for a single, impossible moment. Dylan felt the weight of that blind attention settle on him.
Then the thing exhaled—a low, rasping huff that stirred dust along the hallway floor—and turned away.
Its steps shifted direction, slow and controlled, retracing the corridor with the same careful pattern it had used while following him. The occasional thump signaled its departure as it disappeared down the hallway.
Dylan stayed frozen until even the thumping faded. Only then did he let himself move. His legs trembled as he stepped out from behind the shelving, the adrenaline draining away and leaving behind a cold shake he couldn't hide.
A steady blink in the corner of his vision caught his attention, and a blue window flickered into view.
[QUEST: INITIAL SURVIVAL — 24 HOURS]
[REMAINING TIME: 14:56:20]
[Bonus Quest: Kill the Skarn]
[Reward: 1 rare drop]
Kill the Skarn? Was that what that thing was called? Did it even matter? How the hell was he supposed to kill that? All he had was an old pipe. A rare drop sounded nice, but he didn't have a clue what "rare" even meant in this place. It wasn't worth the risk.
After a long moment, he forced himself back into the hallway, careful with each footstep. The creature was gone for now, but it had left him a message—whether it meant to or not.
He kept his pace slow at first, listening for anything out of place. Nothing scraped. Nothing paced. But the absence of sound didn't comfort him. He knew it was only a matter of time before he ran into that creature again.
But he couldn't just sit still. He could already feel the gnawing edge of hunger settling in his gut. How long could he last without food? A week, maybe two. He didn't exactly have much body mass to burn through to begin with.
So, with food on his mind, he started searching. Unfortunately, most of the doors he'd passed while trying to outpace the creature were sealed shut. It looked like the only way to open them would be to restore power—something he had no idea how to do.
Going forward wasn't an option either. The debris that had blocked the entrance to the room he'd hidden in also choked off the corridor beyond it, turning the path into a dead end. That left only one choice: turn back the way he'd come, toward the massive door hanging half open. And past the place where the creature no doubt still lurked.
He took the journey back slowly, scanning corners twice. Sometimes three times. The flickering lights overhead gave every passing shape the suggestion of movement. He kept the pipe angled at his side, fingers locked tight around it.
When he reached the junction where he'd first chosen this route, he crouched to check the adjoining room for any movement or sound. Nothing came that he hadn't been expecting—just the drip of water and the same low hum of machinery.
Dylan swallowed, throat dry despite having drunk earlier. He straightened carefully and forced himself back into motion, resisting the urge to break into a sprint. Running blindly was worse. Running could get him cornered. Running could make noise.
He kept himself steady, even as every instinct in him screamed to run.
The path back to his shelter stretched longer than he remembered. Every small sound—the drip from an overhead pipe, the groan of stressed metal—felt like it shifted behind him. No footsteps followed, but that did nothing to ease the sense that something lingered just far enough away to stay hidden.
By the time he reached the narrow side room he'd claimed as his sleeping spot, his shoulders ached from holding them tense. He stepped inside, checked the corners quickly, and eased the pipe against the wall within arm's reach. The doorway loomed open behind him, the corridor beyond washed in dim fungal glow. Nothing moved there.
But he knew the creature was out there. He knew it could find this room the same way it had found him before.
He pressed his back against the cool metal, listening hard, breath tight in his chest. The quest timer in the corner of his vision was a constant reminder of his situation.
[QUEST: INITIAL SURVIVAL — 24 HOURS]
[REMAINING TIME: 11:44:48]
Halfway done. Halfway through the twenty-four hours. Then maybe this nightmare would be over.