After a surprisingly good sleep, I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was a rocky ceiling.
I looked left and right—he had told the truth. He really had left us in an underground cave with fifteen levels. There were four paths ahead of me, each looking endless. I even tried shouting, and sure enough, there was an echo. The walk to the eighth floor was going to feel never-ending.
I opened the bag next to me. It contained water and food—small in size but in large quantity. What a bastard, that Canou Gérard… drugging a hundred people, most of them minors, and abandoning them in an underground cave in Australia.
I closed the bag and chose the path on the right. It was dimly lit by light bulbs, some of which were close to burning out. The rocks that made up the cave were pitch black—you couldn't even see your own shadow.
Barely ten minutes later, I still hadn't reached the end of the path, but I felt like I'd been walking for an entire day. My legs were trembling, I was out of breath—it wasn't just a feeling anymore. My physical condition was screaming that I had been walking non-stop for twenty-four hours.
But I had my watch, where I had started a timer. When I checked how much time had passed, it showed five minutes. That couldn't be right—I was sure I had walked for more than ten.
I started to panic. This wasn't normal.
Okay... okay, if I take my watch's time as fact, then why do I feel like I just ran a marathon?
In five minutes of walking, you don't sweat this much... you're not gasping for air like this... and your legs don't hurt this b⁷ad...
The more I thought about it, the more my face went pale. These tunnels seemed endless.
Given the pain I was in, I decided to rest for a while.
I opened my eyes—and nothing... just darkness. I couldn't see anything. I lit the candle I had with me.
Rocks. Just rocks. I was surrounded by rocks. But the strangest part was that it felt like they were watching me.
I hadn't realized it yet, but I was sitting on a chair—and I couldn't move or speak.
With all my strength, I tried to move.
Even my fingers refused to budge.
"Well, then stop trying to move," a voice echoed behind me.
"Instead of struggling, why don't you try looking into them?"
What the hell was he talking about? How was I supposed to look into rocks?
From behind me stepped a man dressed entirely in black, his face hidden by a hood. He looked at me and said:
"You're not ready yet. You're not desperate enough. Spending more time down here will help you see inside."
What the hell are you saying…? Since when can I talk again?
"You pay so little attention to details. Didn't you wonder why you could move at first and now you can't? Try not to lose your mind before our next meeting."
He snapped his fingers—and I fell… deeper and deeper… even deeper.
I opened my eyes and jumped up. I looked ahead... behind me... left and right. There were four paths again.
I was back at the starting point.