"I refuse."
That was the word.
The room answered with a countdown.
3:00 lit up red and alarming.
No confirmation. No prompt. No are you sure. Just the corporate smile of a timer.
I was fried. Thirsty. One pop-up away from punching oxygen.
No more tricks. No more guilt-puppets. No more tests.
Give me a break... or give me something to break...
Something in me clicked. A decision.
"Selection pending. 2:00 Minutes remaining
The elf raised her head.
"Please," she said again. "Don't make me fail them."
Her voice cracked perfectly. Like someone fine-tuned the audio file to hit maximum empathy-per-second.
I didn't move.
Hagar started coughing in the first panel. Ugly, rattling hacks that sent blood onto the rubble. He tried to push himself up with one arm.
"This where you freeze up, boy?" he wheezed.
His voice was closer now. Closer to real.
Too close.
Selection pending. 1:30 Minutes remaining
The voice offered, as if I might have lost track of the giant red ticking clock.
I turned to look at Tylen.
Still standing. Still smug. Still pressing his boot into that waif's ribs like it was part of his warmup routine.
But this time, he looked at me.
The corner of his panel glitched, a flicker.
"Make a choice," he said. "Or are you just here to watch us bleed?"
Something in the room shivered.
The blank panel at the end flickered harder now. The static had rhythm. Like breathing. Like something behind it was pacing.
I turned back to the middle of the room. No weapons. No countdown buzzer. Just five performances dialed up to max emotional extraction.
Selection pending.1:00 Minutes remaining
I looked at Hagar again.
He smiled, bloody and mean.
"Tick-tock, hero."
I cracked my neck.
Didn't smile back.
Didn't blink.
Just muttered:
"You built this wrong."
I didn't pick a panel.
I turned around.
And walked to the bench in the corner.
Real. Heavy. Bolted down, maybe?
Didn't matter.
I grabbed the side rail and pulled.
Metal shrieked as the mount tore loose. My shoulder lit up, old bruises screaming, old wounds opening, new tears forming.
Two more yanks. One curse. A grunt.
The whole thing came free with a crack and a shower of bolts.
Behind me, the voice had gone silent. No countdown. No encouragement.
Somewhere deeper in the walls, I heard the sound of something rebooting, a tone, a clunk, then silence.
This could kill my shot at the Tag. All the crap I've crawled through just to get here, gone. If it's between licking the System's boots or losing with this bullshit, I'll lose loud enough they choke on my name.
I swung the bench up, braced it against my shoulder like a battering ram, and charged.
Target?
The second panel.
The elf.
She reached out in perfect desperation.
"Please..."
CRACK.
The glass didn't shatter, it folded. Like a screen that didn't know if it was supposed to be solid. Blue light bled down the frame like it was leaking.
A hiss. Then static.
The projection glitched. The flames behind her froze mid-flicker. The children blinked out.
Her mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
I stepped back. Raised the bench again.
"Selection pending. 0:45 Minutes remaining
I brought the bench down again.
Hard.
This time, the panel cracked for real.
Spiderweb fracture across the center. Her face distorted. The whole simulation stuttered, a sound loop trying to restart a sob.
[📘 SYSTEM NOTICE — UNAUTHORIZED INTERFACE INTERACTION DETECTED]
Unscheduled User contact with internal simulation infrastructure has been registered.
Please return to your designated observation zone.⚠️
This is your first and only courtesy reminder.
💡 Tip: Interacting with simulation hardware outside authorized touchpoints may result in feedback irregularities, reduced merit eligibility, or User harm.
My lip curled.
"First warning, huh?"
I turned toward Tylen's panel.
He was still smirking.
Didn't look so smug when the bench connected with his face.
This one shattered easier.
Alarms triggered.
Red light spilled from the ceiling.
A low thrum vibrated through the floor.
[📘 SYSTEM NOTICE — ESCALATION PROTOCOL ACTIVATED]
Alert: Unexpected User input has exceeded scenario tolerance thresholds.⚠️
Emotional Deviation logged: Hostility Index > 7.5
Containment Protocol: INITIALIZED
Stabilization measures en route.
Local simulation lockdown engaged.
Compliance assets deploying for situational correction via nonlethal means.
💡 Reminder: Emotional outbursts are a natural part of the tutorial process. Please remain in your designated location and allow System personnel to assist. 😊
Two round panels in the wall snapped open.
Metal pods hissed, and from them, drones unfolded like disappointed gym teachers in riot gear.
Smooth plating. No faces. Arms ending in coiled restraint mechanisms and buzzing stun rods.
Recommended course of action: de-escalation and selection.
I dropped the bench.
Cracked my knuckles.
"Wrong again."
I looked at the room itself.
At the System.
This wasn't about passing a trial.
Not anymore.
This was about refusing to disappear.
About making sure every pristine hallway, every golden path, every back-end maintenance crawlspace that still logged my name would have to choke on it.
Because fuck the Tag.
Fuck the polite little badge they might stick on me when this was over, like a participation trophy for not dying fast enough.
You wanted a decision?
Here it is:
I don't want to be remembered as the guy who made the right call.
I want to be the guy you wish you could forget.
And if you thought you could play with my head, twist voices, puppet regrets, guilt-trip me into falling in line?
You read the wrong fucking story.
I reached for the weight inside me.
The furnace.
The flame behind the ribs.
And it growled.
Not loud. Not theatrical.
Just there.
Like it had always been. Like it had waited for this.
Let's show this prissy, overdesigned panic maze what it feels like to have a Root jammed down its fucking throat.
Then came the drones. Two of them. Smooth white polymer, blank-faced like HR complaints in riot cop form and some kind of rope like thing. Batons upright and twitching. Like they were excited to see me.
Nonlethal.
Those batons looked like they would keep me down in a "Nonlethal" way, that's for sure...
"User aggression exceeds tolerance," came from one.
"Engaging pacification protocol," chimed the other.
I grinned. The bear curled behind my ribs. Just... amused.
"Do not resist."
I stepped forward. Let the first slap its rope thing around my forearm. Let it tighten. Anchor. Apparently it shocks you, and apparently half-bear men are resistent to that, who knew...
Then I pulled.
Not gently.
The drone jerked forward with a sound like a wet fax machine, and I spun with it, let the momentum carry, and turned the bastard into a flailing wrecking ball.
The second drone didn't even get to flinch before it ate its partner at full velocity.
CRASH.
Two trash heaps. One swing.
I didn't wait. I never fucking wait. I'm done waiting.
Grabbed the downed one's baton, tore it from the socket with a crkshk of wires and spite, and drove it down into the second's faceplate.
It sparked.
Twitched and pulsated.
I paused.
I really need to stop describing things like that.
Pretty sure I just assaulted a riot drone with its own robo-chub...
From the ceiling:
"Additional pacification units en route."
I turned toward the closest simulation.
Hagar.
Still coughing. Still bleeding. Still watching like a bastard proud of the fist that broke your nose.
"You finally losing it?" he rasped.
I pulled the baton out of the robo-face baton.
And I smashed the panel.
Glass. Static. Gone.
Three down.
Two more drones rushed in, faster this time. No ceremony. No words.
Just batons. Nets. And orders.
One fired a net.
I caught it mid-air. Twisted. Wrapped it around my arm like a scarf made of defiance. Then I yanked a half-functional drone off the floor, spun once, and hurled it. Those points in strength are really helping.
BOOM.
I followed behind.
Didn't block the baton that clipped my side, just ate it. Let the burn feed the Root. Let the fire pour into my veins and come back blue.
Good...
Let's teach them about regrets.
I launched into the first drone shoulder-first. It crumpled. I grabbed its restraint cable, spun, and whipped it through the second panel, the random elf I felt like I should recognize, frozen mid-monologue.
"You can't win like..."
WhhhZIP...!
Her face disappeared in a sizzle of light that screamed like a kicked spreadsheet.
Four down.
A klaxon went off.
"User hostility is counterproductive."
"This is an emotional integrity assessment."
"Please remain still and reflect on your priorities."
I was.
I am.
My priority is fuck you and your mind-diddling shit.
The next drones wave skidded in behind me.
Batons raised. No words this time.
I caught one mid-swing. Wrenched the arm out of socket. Used it to beat its partner to death, then dropped both in a pile.
I turned.
The fifth panel still flickered.
Just static.
It watched?
"You think this is all I am?" I said, quiet.
The bear stirred.
Just there.
With me.
I leaned in close.
The static pulsed. A tiny crack crawled across the glass. Like the System blinked.
Then.
We roared.
Me and the bear.
Together.
Not rage. Not pain.
Declaration.
"FUCK. YOU."
And the panel just shatterd.
There was no flash of white light, no triumphant music cue, no neat transition into the next stage. Just ruin. Smoke curling up from shattered panels. The soft hiss of a ruined drone sparking out its last confused heartbeat against the wall. The stink of ozone, blood, and failure.
My kind of peace.
I stood there in the aftermath, bruised, burned, half-limping, breathing like I'd swallowed fire, and for a second, I thought maybe this was it. Maybe I'd finally pushed too far. Broken something the System couldn't patch. Failed the wrong trial and was about to be recycled into data mulch.
Then came the ping.
Soft.
Almost polite?
Like it didn't just watch me curb-stomp its carefully designed morality quiz into glass confetti.
[CHALLENGE ENCOUNTER 5.3 — INTEGRITY FAILURE]
Thank you for participating in the Empathy Cascade Simulation.
Your interaction has been flagged as NONSTANDARD and has resulted in early scenario termination.
📊 Session Outcome Summary:
→ Simulation: Terminated
→ Interface Panels: Unresponsive
→ Emotional Data Capture: Incomplete
→ Participant Profile: Atypical Engagement Pattern
→ Outcome: Provisional Continuation Authorized (Clause 9.7.c), within Acceptable Variation.
Please proceed to the next chamber for behavioral reassessment and integration compatibility testing.
Reminder: There are no wrong answers, only growth opportunities.
😊 Have a nice day!
I stared at it for a beat.
Then I stared a little longer, like I could will the words to make more sense. Like maybe they'd change their mind and hit me with a real punishment.
But they didn't.
They called it nonstandard.
Not wrong. Not a fail-state. Not an automatic purge from the System's files.
And somewhere, far away in whatever back-end hellhole runs this place, I imagined a technician watching my path on a console, scrolling back through broken feeds, trying to figure out what the fuck just happend.
And that was the moment the pressure cracked. Not my bones, not this time. Something in my ribs clicked, but it wasn't pain. It was laughter. Silent at first, then low and rising, like a rusted pipe finally shaking loose from a concrete wall.
Something they couldn't predict but were legally obligated to allow through.
I almost wheezed.
They let it pass.
They actually let it pass.
"Acceptable variation."
I grinned.
The kind of grin you get when you realize the rules still technically say "yes," even after you set the house on fire and pissed on the evacuation route.
Gremlin-mode.
The other switch... When people lord morals over me there are only two answers... Violence, or this.
The bear seemed to mirror my feelings.We were in sync. Unified. The noise had quieted into something focused, a heat that settled behind my ribs like coiled breath before the charge.
We'd found it.
A crack.
A hairline fracture in the System's perfect, pristine wall.
And I was going to shove my whole goddamn Root through it.
I limped toward the exit, a clean seam in the far wall now glowing with passive-aggressive invitation. No challenge rune. No timer. Just an open door.
The bear followed in silence. Not dragging. Not hungry. Just... with me.
Company.
We crossed the threshold together.
"Let's see what else breaks," I whispered, lips splitting into something that barely qualified as a smile, "when I activate full Gremlin Mode."
And oh, I was grinning now.
Grinning like a lunatic who just found the button labeled "Do Not Touch," and touched it twice.
After that cocktease of a fox in the mountain?
Yeah.
This?
This was therapy.
If someone had seen me, I'm pretty sure they'd describe it as giggling maniacally.
But I prefer to say I laughed boastfully after discovering a new tactic.