Huff... huff... huff...
The man's breath rattled inside his mask like a broken bellows. Clad in a bulky yellow hazmat suit, he tore through the corridors of a nightmare.
The space was a repetitive, maddening labyrinth of rooms plastered in rotting yellow wallpaper. Overhead, fluorescent lights buzzed with a nauseating, high-pitched hum—an electrical whine that bit at his nerves. He didn't have the luxury of noticing the smell or the lights. Behind him, a three-meter-tall horror was closing the gap.
Dammit! Why is there a monster here?!
The creature was a grotesque snarl of black, wire-like fibers. Its "arms," long and multi-jointed like tangled tentacles, lashed forward, reaching for his heels. From its head—a smooth, black mass resembling a wooden fish—it emitted a piercing, metallic shriek, despite having no visible throat to produce such a sound.
He didn't dare look back. He didn't even dare to slow down. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping his legs moving, masking the crushing fatigue, but the sheer hopelessness of the chase was beginning to swallow him whole.
Just as his lungs felt ready to burst, a flicker of something new appeared in his field of vision.
A door. A simple, wooden door set into the endless yellow wall.
A door?!
A final surge of survival instinct flared in his chest, forcing his heavy limbs to find one last burst of speed. Entering an unknown door in this place was a gamble with death, but staying out here was a certainty. It wasn't a choice; it was a reflex.
He threw his entire weight against the wood, crashing through.
In an instant, the creature's shrieks vanished. Silence rushed in, heavy and thick. He hit the ground hard, tumbling across a cold, unforgiving surface.
He lay there on his back, staring up through the fogged visor of his suit at a dim, leaden sky.
"I'm... I'm alive..."
A wave of lactic acid washed through his legs, pinning him to the floor. He didn't want to move. He didn't think he could.
"Where is this? There's no record of this in the files... Is this a new Level?"
He braced his hands against the ground to push himself up, but a voice, heavy with suppressed, theatrical rage, drifted from behind him.
"I have been imprisoned for ten thousand years... banished from my own homeland."
The man froze.
"And now, you dare enter my domain? You are not prepared!"
Hearing the overly dramatic, almost chuunibyo-style monologue, the man didn't laugh. He didn't even twitch. It wasn't because of the words—it was because a long sword, forged from distinct, charcoal-grey stone blocks, was currently pressed against the seal of his throat.
A young man stood over him. He looked to be in his early twenties, an Asian male wearing a simple blue T-shirt and a pair of ordinary jeans. He looked down with a calm, almost unnerving indifference.
"Let me introduce myself," the youth said. "The name's Toby. Welcome to Minecraft."
It was the first time the man had been welcomed anywhere with a blade to his jugular, and he prayed it would be the last. Yet, something was wrong. The youth wasn't speaking English—the sounds were foreign—and yet, the meaning was perfectly clear in his mind, as if the intent was being translated directly into his consciousness.
In a place this surreal, caution was the only currency left. The man swallowed hard, his voice trembling behind the mask. "Are you a Wanderer? What... what is this place?"
The environment was a stark departure from the "Level 0" he had just fled.
"Wanderer" was the common term for those who slipped through the cracks of the Frontrooms—the real world—and fell into the Backrooms. Whether it was "noclip" glitches or falling backward while filming, the result was always the same: exile into a world behind the walls.
Toby looked down at the "little yellow man" and felt a spark of genuine excitement. The dramatic speech had been a bit of a vent; he had been kicked into this strange dimension a week ago and hadn't seen a soul since.
He had tried everything to leave this space, but the world was wrapped in a grey, impenetrable mist. Even worse, the ground beneath his feet was made of Bedrock—the indestructible foundation of Minecraft that no survival tool could ever break.
Toby wasn't just a player, though. He had become Steve.
He had a health bar, a hunger meter, an invisible inventory, and a hotbar. He had the essence of the game's protagonist, though thankfully, he hadn't turned into a literal block-man.
"Where is this? I just told you," Toby said, a small, wry smile playing on his lips. "This is Minecraft."
He nudged the stone sword slightly. "Now, sit up. Take off that mask and let me see your face. I need to make sure you're actually human."
The yellow suit had looked familiar from the moment he saw it. When the man asked if he was a "Wanderer," Toby's suspicions about this place were practically confirmed.
The man hesitated, then slowly reached up, unlatching the pressurized seals of his helmet. He pulled it off, revealing a man in his thirties with blonde hair and blue eyes—a classic Western face, though marred by bloodshot eyes and a sickly, pale complexion brought on by sheer terror.
"Good," Toby said. He didn't let the man stand, keeping the stone edge close enough to feel the coldness of the rock. "I ask, you answer. Let's keep it simple."
"What's your name? You can lie if you want, I just need something to call you. And where do you come from?"
The man, Eric, took a ragged breath. "Eric. You can call me Eric. I'm from Level 0... I was being hunted by an Entity and found that door by accident. If I've intruded on your territory, I... I apologize."
Level 0. Toby's heart sank as the theory solidified.
The Backrooms? I thought that was just an internet creepypasta.
He remembered the 4chan posts from 2019. The yellow wallpaper, the hum-buzz of the lights, the dread of "noclipping" out of reality. It was a digital myth. But then again, Toby was currently a living Minecraft character, so a crossover with the Backrooms wasn't exactly the strangest thing that could happen.
The real question was: Which version of the Backrooms is this?
Between the Fandom, the Wikidot, and the Kane Pixels versions, the rules changed constantly. The "Yellow Suit" pointed toward the Kane Pixels lore, but that version didn't use "Levels." It was a mess of contradictions.
With a flick of his wrist, the stone sword vanished into thin air, returning to Toby's inventory.
Toby reached out a hand to the shell-shocked man on the ground.
"Eric," he said, his expression softening just a fraction. "Nice to meet you."