Sam's eyes shut open, revealing to him a surprising view. He was staring at a grey ceiling decorated with an epic scene. A lonely hero, in the middle of a jump, with a spear and shield in hand, was about to strike a mighty dragon, whose snake-like, long body was swirling across the whole piece of the relief.
'What the...' thought popped into his mind as he looked to his left and right, discovering that somehow he didn't awaken in his bed, but rather in a very strange, but most importantly, closed space.
He was surrounded by four walls, all showcasing some kind of epic scenes. Either a clash of two armies, heroes in the middle of impossible battles, or two mighty individuals engaged in a devastating duel. Like if he somehow found himself in an art gallery, or maybe even a museum hosting an exposition from ancient Rome or Greece.
Under his ass, he felt an uneven surface of cobblestone. There was some sand as well, which he felt with his fingers, upon attempting to get up. The movement made him feel slightly dizzy, so the task at hand was not as straightforward as one could think.
'Did I get Isekaid, or some shit?' another thought crossed his mind, as he turned around in place, taking in again the surrounding scenes, decorating those damn, grey walls. 'Or even worse, kidnapped? But who would want to kidnap me?'
To his surprise, he didn't panic, as one could react. 'Too many webcomics, and internet novels,' he deemed immediately, the grim situation slowly slipping in through his mental armor acquired by years of reading.
'Did I die, and I'm in a different body?' another thought popped into his mind, prompting him to check his hands. They appeared to be normal. 'Maybe it's just a dream!' The realization hit him, prompting him to pinch himself. Since the pain didn't jolt him to reality, the theory of a vivid dream had to fall, but the idea itself caused him to realize something else.
'What the...' he looked up again. The situation he found himself in was impossible, even pushing aside the ridiculousness of it, it was fundamentally impossible from the physics standpoint as Sam knew it. Somehow there was plenty of light in this confined space, seemingly pouring straight from above, as the shadows suggested, or rather lack of them, but there was a ceiling above his head.
„How is this possible?" he asked aloud, yet again staring at the hero facing the dragon. The absurdity of the situation broke his mental fortitude, allowing the panic to soak through. His heart skipped a beat as if a vehicle was skipping a gear, moving straight to the last one. He could feel it pounding against his ribcage, prompting him to move. He went toward the wall he was facing and began touching the relief depicting two armies clashing in an epic battle. Pushing, trying to press some of the soldiers, didn't cause any reaction, which led him to turn right, toward the next wall in line.
This was the one he originally faced as he awakened, before he started spinning around, taking in the alien surroundings. This one showed a warrior, looking like a gladiator of sorts. He had a large helmet with a mohawk on top and was carrying a trident in his right arm, while the left one was armed with a gladius. His opponent appeared to be a Viking of sorts. His head was obscured by the wolf skin, with the skull still attached, and the fur flowing on his otherwise naked body, if not for a loincloth and fluffy boots made of some other kind of animal. Armed with two battle axes, mouth wide open in a wild roar, he seemed like a formidable foe.
As soon as Sam approached them, the mechanism hidden somewhere within gasped. The gears moaned, before clang, after a clang, after a clang, slow but steady, filled his ears. With the sound of stone grinding against stone, the wall moved back a few centimeters, and a gap between the two mighty warriors appeared. There was a bit of light sipping in through this very narrow opening. More and more, as the space widened, revealing something beyond the confined space Sam was locked thus far.
'Good. I'm not trapped,' a feeling of relief washed over him, causing his racing heart to pull the hand break. The pounding in his chest subsided significantly, but it didn't stop. He could still feel the anxiety, the shivers occasionally running down his spine. Every sense in his body was telling him that danger was approaching. A danger born from his imagination, fueled by all the stories he read, which now began to slip into his mind, as he faced the unknown.
When the gap grew, he was able to see what was hidden from him until now. A plaza of sorts stood ahead, surrounded, seemingly from all sides by very similar walls he already had the pleasure to see, making this place very much akin to the room he so desperately wished to escape, but with two minor, yet significant differences – a fountain with a geyser in the center, spraying the droplets into the surrounding basin, and the open sky above, which combined struck him with ave. The view was simply breathtaking. Or rather would be if not for the anxiety still lingering in his heart.
When space appeared to be big enough, he squeezed through, desperate to escape the trap, finally finding himself in a more open space, even if the only way out was to climb the ridiculously tall walls – an impossible task.
The fresh air hit him, ruffling his hair. For a moment he thought that he could even feel the smell of his shampoo, but then a realization hit him. It was a different smell. Herbal. Pleasant, yet strange.
'An incense,' he figured, slowly stepping forward, as he looked around.
There was nothing much to see there, but the walls themselves. Still, they had some kind of magnetism trapped in the epic battles they showcased, making it impossible to ignore. The eyes, as if they had a will of their own, were simply lured to the magnificent reliefs.
Moving forward, Sam only realized how close he got to the fountain, where a few small droplets hit his face, making him stop looking around. He focused on the water, which gave him a minor clue about his situation. He still had his old, but reliable body. Old, meaning something he got accustomed to throughout his life, not because of his age, but because Sam was very much still a teenager. Freshman in high school.
Ruffled black hair, that detested to be combed, a deeply sunken stormy-blue eyes, a testament to the hours spent on reading. Not only the fun novels, or comic books, but science articles, and school textbooks as well. Sam was a good student, not because he enjoyed math or physics, but because he had no other choice. Again, not because his parents tried to fulfill their unfulfilled ambitions through him as a proxy, but because those parents never existed. They anonymously abandoned him in front of the doors of an orphanage.
They were alive, presumably, but he had no idea who they were. No names in the documents; nothing about him being born in any hospital, giving him no trace he could follow. The only clue to their existence he had, was a lousy memory belonging to a staff member who spotted the backs of a couple, who went off the stairs leading to the building, more or less at the same time Sam had to be left there.
As, at the age of twelve, he realized there was nobody to rely on, he put a stop to his previously carefree life and focused on making sure he had the best possible fundaments to take on the harsh reality of keeping himself alive after leaving the orphanage.
Staring at the rippling, somewhat blurry reflection, he noticed that the clothes he remembered having on, before opening his eyes in the closed room, were still there. A plain white T-shirt, with a black zip-up sweatshirt, comfortable, grey sweatpants, and flip-flops. No. The flip-flops were gone, as he confirmed looking at his feet. Instead, he had his old sneakers on. White, with some blue elements. Slightly dirty, as it was currently his only pair of outside footwear, which he used constantly.
Studying his look, a noise reached his ears. A familiar gasp of mechanism, followed by a metallic moan, clanging, and finally the grinding of stone against stone. He turned around, looking in the direction he came from. The massive wall, decorated by a magnificent relief didn't contain only his room. Hidden behind a thick layer of concrete, now opening, was another one. There could be a number of them, judging by the location of the second door, right next to his temporary prison, which left plenty of space for more.
Taking in the size of this wall, and the gap between the two rooms, he was able to quickly calculate how many could there potentially fit.
'Eight...'
As the gap widened, a figure showed, staring right at Sam.