The manga in my lap—some shonen tale of heroes and lost swords—blurred as my thoughts wandered. My stats, a pinnacle at 160 across Strength, Endurance, Agility, Intelligence, and Luck (HP 16,000, MP 8,000), made me a god among men, but the losses from the failed Veiled Vigil quest stung: Twilight Healing's copy gone forever, Power of Destruction stripped, leaving me reliant on Boosted Gear's Balance Breaker (tripling to 4x combat stats) and the Phoenix Force's 10% bond (cosmic flames adding 300 damage bursts, telekinetic pulses, minor reality warps). Ddraig's voice rumbled in my mind, a gravelly companion: "Rest easy, partner. The world's not napping—swords and saints don't stay quiet long."
He was right. The Excalibur arc's prelude—the photo, Kiba's shadowed eyes, Irina's hesitant stance—hinted at holy wars on the horizon. Xenovia's call of "witch" for Asia's mercy toward Diodora echoed, the devil's nun-harem a perverse stain that demanded reckoning. But for now, the house was mine, the quiet a luxury. I stretched, reaching for the remote to flip on the TV—some mindless anime rerun, perhaps—when the air thickened, a familiar azure hum vibrating through my bones.
The Gamer System's chime pierced the silence, a blue screen materializing with a pulse that made the soda can rattle. Gamer's Mind clamped down on the surge of adrenaline, the soul-erasure restriction a cold reminder to keep its secrets buried. No one was home to see the glow, but the timing felt like cosmic irony—a day off, interrupted.
System Emergency: Dimensional Exile
Alert: Anomalous rift detected. User required for containment in Backrooms Level 0. Immediate teleportation authorized. No companions permitted—solo operation.
Gift: Survival Kit
Description: Basic provisions added to Inventory: Energy Bar (restores 500 HP/MP), Flashlight (illuminates darkness, reveals hidden entities), First Aid Kit (heals 1,000 HP). Consumable once per item.
Warning: Backrooms Level 0 is an infinite maze of yellowed rooms, moist carpets, and buzzing fluorescent lights. Entities roam; no-clipping risks escalation to deeper levels.
New Quest: No-Clip Survivor
Objective: Survive and eliminate 200 entities in Backrooms Level 0.
Breakdown: 180 Standard Entities (Level 10-20, stats 20-40; Hounds, Smilers, Skin-Stealers).
15 Mid-Tier Entities (Level 30, stats 60-80; Partygoers, Clumps).
5 Elite Entities (Level 50, stats 100-120; Insanities, Facelings).
Rewards:
Sacred Gear: Twilight Healing (Balance Breaker restored; unlimited healing for self and others, no mana cost).
Sacred Gear: Resurrection (Revives any deceased ally to full health, regardless of time elapsed or cause of death; 1 use per 24 hours).
Failure Penalty: Permanent entrapment in the Backrooms for 1 year (no system access, stats halved).
Time Limit: None (escape upon completion; survival imperative).
Activation: Automatic teleport upon acceptance. [Y/N]
(A/N: Facelings are hostile entities in this AU. So don't confuse it with friendly ones, ok)
The screen's words hit like a gut punch—Backrooms? The infinite, sanity-shredding maze of liminal spaces, a horror of endless yellow walls, buzzing lights, and lurking abominations. Entities—Hounds with their eyeless snarls, Smilers grinning from shadows, Skin-Stealers mimicking the lost. 200 kills? In a place designed to break minds? The rewards were a lifeline: Twilight Healing's full restoration, unlimited for others, and Resurrection—a gear to defy death itself. Failure meant a year of isolation, stats crippled, no Ddraig, no bonds.
Gamer's Mind analyzed coldly: my stats made me a predator here, Boosted Gear's combat peak a slaughterhouse edge, Phoenix Force's warps a cheat for navigation.
I selected Y, the vortex erupting—a swirling maw of yellowed void that swallowed the living room whole. "Asia... girls... sorry," I muttered, reality no-clipping away.
_________________
Descent into the Yellow Maze
The transition was a gut-wrenching lurch, like falling through wet wallpaper. One moment, the couch's worn fabric under me; the next, a damp thud against carpet that squelched under my sneakers. The air was stale, heavy with the scent of mold and ozone, the fluorescent lights overhead buzzing like a swarm of angry wasps, casting a sickly yellow pallor over endless, monotonous rooms. Walls of faded floral wallpaper peeled in corners, doors leading to identical chambers, no windows, no escape. Backrooms Level 0—the Lobby, infinite and indifferent, a liminal hell where wanderers went mad or vanished.
I rose, Boosted Gear humming on my arm, the green gem's glow a defiant crimson in the monochrome. My inventory pinged: Energy Bar, Flashlight, First Aid Kit—meager, but useful. Observe scanned the room: empty, but distant echoes—growls, skitters. The quest counter: 0/200. Ddraig's voice cut the buzz: "Smells like wet dog and despair, partner. Stay sharp—those things don't play fair."
I moved, my agility silent on the moist carpet, flashlight beam cutting shadows. The maze unfolded—left to a door, right to another, all identical. Phoenix Force's 10% whispered, a minor reality warp bending a wall slightly, revealing a shortcut.
First entity: a Hound, Level 15, eyeless canine horror with jagged maw, stats 30 across (HP 1,500). It lunged from a vent, saliva dripping, claws raking.
"BOOST!" Stats 3x boosted, claws extended. The Hound's bite grazed my arm (HP 15,800/16,000, Gamer's Body converting to minor loss), but my counter—Phoenix-infused claw swipe—tore its flank (HP 800/1,500). It howled, lunging again, it's Agility no match for mine. I sidestepped, destruction blast vaporizing its head (HP 0/1,500). 1/200.
The kill echoed, drawing more. Two Smilers—Level 12, grinning shadows (stats 25, HP 1,250)—emerged from corners, their toothy maws glowing in darkness. I flicked the flashlight, blinding one (HP 1,000/1,250), Phoenix telekinesis hurling it into the wall (HP 500). The second pounced, teeth sinking into my shoulder (HP 15,500/16,000). I roared, Boosted Gear doubling to 4x Strength burst, claws rending its jaw (HP 0/1,250). The blinded one charged; my annihilation field disintegrated it mid-leap (HP 0/1,250). 3/200.
The maze twisted, rooms blending. A Skin-Stealer—Level 20, mimic horror (stats 40, HP 2,000)—lurked, imitating a lost wanderer. It mimicked my voice: "Help... Issei..." I Observed through: "Flesh… fresh…" Boosted Gear tripled to 6x in Balance Breaker, Dragon Scale Mail encasing me. It lunged, claws like mine; I parried, Phoenix warp slowing time around it (5-second freeze). Destruction blast shredded its disguise, claws finishing the mimic (HP 0/2,000). 4/200.
Hours blurred—endless yellow, buzzing lights driving sanity's edge. Hounds in packs (5 kills, Levels 15, HP 1,500 each; coordinated lunges, but my Luck dodged ambushes, blasts clearing). Smilers in shadows (10 kills, Levels 12, HP 1,250; flashlight beams revealing grins, Phoenix telekinesis slamming them into walls). Skin-Stealers mimicking voices (7 kills, Levels 20, HP 2,000; Observe piercing illusions, Balance Breaker claws eviscerating).
Mid-tier rose: Partygoers—Level 30, clown horrors (stats 70, HP 3,500)—ambushed in a "party room," balloons popping with acid. One grabbed my leg (HP 15,000/16,000), giggling maniacally. I stomped, My Strength crushing its skull (HP 0/3,500). Three more swarmed, confetti blinding; Phoenix warp cleared the air, destruction fields vaporizing two (0/3,500 each). The last slashed (HP 14,500/16,000); Twilight's absence stung, but Gamer's Body held. Claw to throat—4/15 mid-tier.
Clumps—Level 30, fleshy amalgamations (stats 75, HP 3,750)—oozed from vents, tendrils lashing. One wrapped my arm (HP 14,000/16,000), acid burning. Phoenix flames incinerated it (HP 0/3,750). Two more merged, a writhing mass; I unleashed annihilation field, molecular disintegration unraveling them (0/3,750 each). 7/15.
Elite entities escalated: Insanities—Level 50, madness inducers (stats 110, HP 5,500)—whispered doubts, Gamer's Mind cracking slightly ("You're weak... alone..."). HP dipped to 13,500 from psychic lashes. I roared, Balance Breaker tripling to 9x Strength burst, claws silencing the whispers (HP 0/5,500). 1/5 elite.
Facelings—Level 50, human mimics (stats 115, HP 5,750)—ambushed as "Asia," voice pleading. Observe revealed: "Eat… dragon…" Phoenix telekinesis hurled it (HP 3,000/5,750), destruction blast erasing the face (0/5,750). 2/5.
The grind wore on—200 kills a marathon of yellow monotony broken by bursts of horror. Hounds in hordes (50 total, packs of 5-10, coordinated bites forcing dodges and area blasts); Smilers in dark corners (40, flashlight beams revealing grins before Phoenix warps crushed them); Skin-Stealers mimicking lovers' voices (30, Observe piercing, claws rending illusions); Partygoers in "festive" traps (10, acid balloons popped by telekinesis, fields of destruction turning parties to ash); Clumps oozing from walls (5, tendrils severed by Balance Breaker slashes); Insanities whispering failures (2, Gamer's Mind holding, blasts silencing madness); Facelings as Rias or Raynare (3, heartbreak feints ended by dragon fury).
At 200, the final Faceling fell, its mimic of Asia crumbling to dust (HP 0/5,750). The system chimed, golden light enveloping me.
Quest Complete: No-Clip Survivor
Rewards:
Sacred Gear: Twilight Healing (Balance Breaker; unlimited healing for self/others, no mana cost).
Sacred Gear: Resurrection (Revives any deceased to full health, any time; 1/day).
Safe return to home universe.
Twilight Healing returned, golden fields blooming; Resurrection pulsed in my soul, a defier of death. The vortex pulled, yellow void fading to Kuoh's living room—five seconds passed, manga still open.
Asia burst in, eyes wide. "Issei! You okay?"
I smiled, fields healing phantom aches. "Better than ever."
The Backrooms' echoes faded, but my arsenal grew—death, no more the end.