The corpse of the "Wire-Puller" was of little use to Sylas. He was a survivor fueled by the cold logic of Steve, not a researcher from The M.E.G. looking to dissect the anomalous.
"I wonder what this thing tastes like..." he murmured, his gaze lingering on the wire-like tissues. Before the thought could turn into a grim experiment, he heard the frantic shuffle of boots. He turned to find Eri staggering toward him.
"The door..." Eri gasped.
Sylas looked back. The wooden portal was gone.
"You shouldn't have stepped out," Sylas said, his voice flat.
Eri looked at him with hollow, confused eyes. "Why? What do you mean?"
Sylas pointed his finger at the yellow wallpaper behind the man. Eri spun around, his pupils contracting in terror. Where the pixelated oak door had stood seconds ago, there was now only a smooth, unbroken expanse of jaundiced wall.
"The door... it's gone. We're trapped."
Sylas didn't share his panic. To him, the hundred-square-meter pocket of mist he had occupied for a week was a cage; Level 0, despite its insanity-inducing hum, was a resource node. Here, there were entities to slay and, more importantly, materials to harvest.
"If it's gone, it's gone," Sylas remarked, his tone chillingly indifferent. "Did you grow fond of that misty void after only a few minutes?"
He manifested a Stone Pickaxe from his Inventory. He approached the wall and tapped it lightly. The thud-thud-thud echoed through the "Non-Euclidean" maze, a rhythmic intrusion into the silence.
Eri, momentarily shaken but still a professional, stepped forward. "What are you doing? Do you need help?"
"No. Just stay close. Talk to me if you feel your mind slipping."
Level 0 was the ultimate Liminal Space—the transitional point between the familiar and the alien. It triggered a primal unease, a realization that humanity was a trespasser in a realm that did not welcome life. Furthermore, there was the "Isolation Effect": theoretically, two Wanderers in Level 0 should never be able to find one another. If Sylas lost sight of Eri for even a moment, the shifting geometry of the Backrooms would ensure they never met again.
"Stay within arm's reach," Sylas warned. "If you get 'glitched' into another Level... I can only wish you luck."
Eri nodded, his respect for Sylas growing alongside his fear. He watched as Sylas swung the pickaxe. With every strike, cracks appeared on the reality of the wall—not the drywall of the Frontrooms, but the structural fabric of the Backrooms themselves.
Pop.
A 1-meter by 1-meter block of the wall dropped into a localized item form. Sylas picked it up, and a prompt flashed in his mind.
[Normal Wall Block]
[Value: 1 Energy]
Sylas paused, his eyes narrowing. "Value 1? Equivalent Exchange?"
As if answering his greed, a new window materialized.
[Energy can be used for: Tool Repair, Returning to the Overworld, One-Time Teleportation Keys, Upgrading the Overworld, and more.]
"Return to the Overworld?" Sylas whispered.
[Insufficient Energy. Would you like to recharge?]
The prompt had the distinct, predatory flavor of a Pay-to-Win mobile game—a "Whale's" trap. But to Sylas, it was a lifeline. He focused on the block in his hand and thought, Recharge.
The block vanished.
[Energy Balance: 1]
[Repair Tool: 1 Energy / 20 Durability]
[Open Teleportation Gate: 10 Energy]
[One-Time Teleportation Key: 15 Energy]
[Upgrade Overworld: 10,000 Energy Required]
"The Overworld... that small space I started in," Sylas realized. "If I feed it enough energy, it won't just be a void. It will become a true world."
He looked at the endless yellow walls again. A moment ago, they were a psychological burden; now, they were gold. They were "money" waiting to be minted. Suddenly, even the stench of the damp carpet smelled like opportunity.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Sylas began to mine with a feverish, mechanical intensity. Every block was a step closer to godhood.
Eri watched the young man's sudden descent into manic productivity with growing alarm. He pulled a notebook from his suit and scribbled frantically.
[Subject: Sylas. Unknown humanoid entity. Designation: Pending.]
[Appearance: Asian male, mid-20s. Appears stable, though shows signs of obsessive-compulsive resource gathering.]
[Abilities: Spatial manipulation, tool manifestation. Can deconstruct the environment into 'blocks' through unknown means.]
[Threat Level: High. Defeated a Bacteria entity with minimal effort.]
As the minutes turned to hours, the electrical hum grew deafening. Eri felt a mounting irritability—the "Hum-Buzz" was beginning to erode his Sanity.
Grrr...
His stomach cramped. He should have been back at a M.E.G. outpost by now, eating Almond Water and rations.
"Are you hungry?"
Eri jumped. Sylas was standing right in front of him, having moved with the silent efficiency of a predator.
"I... I haven't eaten in far too long," Eri admitted. "The chase took everything out of me. And... do you hear that? It sounds like someone is whispering behind the walls."
Sylas sighed. In his vision, Eri's "Status" was plummeting. His face was ghostly pale, but his eyes were bloodshot—not from lack of sleep, but from the encroaching madness of the Backrooms.
Eri's Sanity (SAN) was bottoming out. In this place, losing your mind didn't just mean going crazy; it meant physical mutation. It meant becoming a Grief Corpse.
"Eri, you're hallucinating. In Level 0, there is only you, me, and the monsters. Anything else is the house trying to eat you."
Sylas made a decision. He didn't want to lose a useful "data point" just yet. System, open the Teleportation Gate.
A wooden door manifested out of thin air. Sylas grabbed the handle. "Come on. We're going back to the pocket dimension to reset your head."
Eri's vision was swimming, Sylas's voice echoing as if from the bottom of a well. But the sight of the door triggered a subconscious safety reflex. He stumbled through the threshold.
The moment he crossed, the oppressive hum vanished. The clarity of his mind returned like a bucket of cold water.
"What... what was that?" Eri gasped, collapsing onto the gray floor.
"A taste of the price fate demands," Sylas said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. He checked his hunger bar—it was finally starting to tick down after his mining spree.
"Rest here. Don't move. I'm going back out to find us some 'oranges'—or whatever passes for supplies in that yellow hell."