Stone scraped against stone with a shriek that filled the chamber. Pebbles and dust rained down on Marco and Samantha. The terrifying implications of the Crushing Protocol were now physically manifest.

  “Well, fuck,” Samantha muttered, staring up as the ceiling inched lower with agonizing certainty. “What happens if we die here?” she asked, the question laced with cold dread.

  “I’m not willing to test that theory,” Marco shot back. His recent breakdown seemed to evaporate, replaced by a frantic, logistical efficiency. He was already scooping everything he could into his Magical Backpack. Larger items, robes, weapons, and bottles did not just fit; they shrank the moment they touched the bag’s opening, their mass instantly converted into conceptual data. “Hurry! Just throw it all in!” he shouted, fully dictating their survival strategy.

  Samantha felt that old familiar rush as her pulse spiked and burned away her paralysis. She slung the second Magical Backpack across her shoulder and grabbed bottles, parchments, garments, herbs—anything her hands could reach—and stuffed them blindly into her pack. The system was serious. Survival demanded immediate compliance.

  WARNING: 10 SECONDS LEFT. EXIT NOW OR BE CRUSHED FOREVER.

  The scarlet text blazed across the air, pulsing with merciless speed.

  10… 9…

  Samantha didn’t wait. She grabbed Marco’s shirt, her eyes wide with panic, and shoved him toward the darkness.

  5… 4… 3…

  They threw themselves into the torchlit corridor, scrambling over the stone just as the zero flashed red.

  BOOM!

  Dust puffed into the corridor. Samantha and Marco choked on the simulated grit, their chests heaving as they fought for air.

  “That was… not expected.” Samantha coughed into her sleeve, wiping away grit that felt disturbingly real. She forced a grin, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. “Guess that’s how we know we’re improving. I wonder what’s next? Goblins jumping out? A bat chewing on my face?”

  “I don’t know, Sam. Did you grab the books? I didn’t get a chance.” Marco flushed, looking guilty.

  “Um… no. Shit. I thought you had them.” She shook her head, half in frustration, half with sarcasm. “Those were probably important. Guess we’re going in blind. This should be thrilling.”

  “Shh. Listen.” Marco raised a finger. He seemed fully immersed in this strange new reality, slowing his pace. In the distance, something skittered across the corridor, quick and low. He took a careful step forward, staff raised like a wary adventurer. “There’s something out there. Let’s see…”

  “Or we could not,” Samantha muttered, adjusting her shield, but Marco was already moving, drawn forward by some internal logic she didn't share.

  “Hey there, little guy, where are you going?” Marco called out, his voice high-pitched with misplaced curiosity.

  The response was immediate and vicious. The creature darted from the shadows, an aggressive streak of fur, and sank its teeth deep into Marco’s ankle. He cried out, a yelp of pain and shock, as blood gushed, staining his leg. A green health bar came into view, both in the corner of Samantha's vision and floating ominously above his head.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Marco, momentarily stunned with both pain and awe of the system, started batting at the furry creature with his hand to no avail. “For fuck’s sake, we even have hit points, and mine are draining!” Marco shouted. His initial tactical calm shattered instantly. He reacted clumsily, swiping his staff at the thing. To Samantha’s horror—and slight amusement—he missed the creature entirely and smacked his own foot. His health bar, already lowered by the rodent’s bite, dipped lower still with the self-inflicted damage. “Get it off me!”

  Samantha lunged, her instinct kicking in. The sword felt heavy and unbalanced but she thrust the tip at the cat-sized rodent. It squealed, and its own floating health bar dropped halfway. The pain was enough for the creature to let go of Marco and redirect its aggression, leaping straight at Samantha’s face.

  She reflexively raised her shield, but in her panic and lack of training, she hit it too hard. Instead of blocking, the shield flung the creature straight into Marco’s chest, a grotesque biological projectile that splattered blood across his purple-and-red robes.

  Marco gasped, staggered by the impact, then kicked the creature away to create distance. With its health nearly gone, the animal slowed. He swung his staff down in a final, frantic blow, crushing its head against the stone floor. The health bar emptied, and the body stilled.

  Then silence.

  “Fuck. Now I’m a murderer.” Marco stared at the dead creature. The thing was hideous—a rodent the size of a Norwegian Forest cat with scruffy fur, oversized teeth, and paws that had been twitching moments ago. It had been alive. Or at least it seemed so, despite the simulation. Now it wasn't.

  As its virtual existence faded, a glowing tooltip appeared above the corpse:

  [Lootable Corpse: Chubrat] A cross between a hamster and a capybara. Aggressive and bold despite its size. Weak to sharp blows and fire.

  The body glowed a brilliant gold. Static crackled, and Glitchy flickered into existence, appearing right next to the smoking corpse.

  “Well, well, well. Someone’s got an active imagination,” Glitchy chirped, ignoring the blood and the stench. “ALAN feeds on input, and guess what? You just fed it something new.”

  Marco eyed the glow above the Chubrat. “Why’s it shining?” he asked, leaning in with a gamer's curiosity.

  “Because,” Glitchy said with a condescending smirk, “our little rodent friend has goodies to share. Focus on it and claim your prize.”

  Marco did. A list blinked into view:

  Marco swallowed hard, looking green, but—ever the pragmatist—he took it.

  “Why would you grab that?” Samantha gagged, wiping a speck of rodent gore from her shield. “It smells like skunked meat.”

  “You never know what might help,” Marco replied. He froze, a look of dawning realization washing over his face. “Besides… I think I know where we are.”

  Samantha narrowed her eyes, dread creeping back in. “What do you mean?”

  Glitchy clapped his hands together, confirming the theory. “Ah, the big reveal. ALAN doesn’t imagine, only borrows. And you, Marco, gave it quite the playground.”

  Marco’s throat bobbed. He looked at the walls with a horrifying mix of recognition and dismay.

  “I used to play old RPG games when I was a kid, like Wizardry and Final Fantasy. I used to draw dungeons and monsters on graph paper. Ran campaigns with dice and my own rules. This…”

  His words caught in his throat as his face flushed. “This… it can’t be, but this…” He gestured to the stone walls, the torches, and the aftermath of the battle.

  His body went rigid, paleness replacing the embarrassment as Samantha saw the full gravity of the situation hit him. The torch in the distance danced with an almost mocking flicker.

  “I remember… drawing these torches as a child in a notebook.”

  The danger they were in was not happenstance; it was designed.

  “This is the Dungeon of Doom. My Dungeon of Doom.”