The walls seem to be closing in.
No matter where I turn, no matter how far I walk, there's no escape. The maze of hallways stretches endlessly, each one identical to the last—cold, metallic, dripping with moisture, like the entire place is sweating. It's suffocating. The smell of blood, rot, and the faint hum of machines fills the air, never leaving me. The more I try to breathe, the more it feels like this place is swallowing me whole.
My legs feel heavy. They were strong before, after I'd eaten those humans, but the brief surge of power is already fading, replaced by the familiar, gnawing ache of hunger. It's like my body is burning through the energy faster than I can replenish it. My stomach twists painfully, and my hands tremble at my sides, slick with blood. I wipe them against my filthy clothes, but the blood just smears, mixing with the grime and sweat already clinging to my skin.
The hunger is always there, lurking beneath the surface, never fully satisfied. No matter how much I eat, how much blood I spill, it never fills the emptiness inside me. The taste of the humans still lingers on my tongue, sweet and rich, but it wasn't enough. It's never enough.
*Why didn't it work?*
I thought the humans would be different. I thought their flesh would give me the power I need to survive in this place. But they were just food. A *delicacy*, yes, but still just food. They didn't fill the void. They didn't give me strength. They didn't stop the hunger.
I press on, moving deeper into the maze. My footsteps echo through the empty corridors, the sound bouncing off the metallic walls in a way that makes it feel like I'm not alone. But I *am* alone. Always alone.
I stumble, my legs growing weaker with every step. My vision blurs, the edges of the world flickering with dark spots that dance in front of my eyes. The strength I felt earlier is fading fast, slipping through my fingers like water. I need to eat again. I need to find something—*anything*—before I collapse.
I pause, leaning against the wall for support. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my chest heaving with the effort of staying upright. My muscles burn, and my bones feel like they're grinding together beneath my skin, threatening to snap under the weight of my own body.
The hunger is worse now. It's not just an ache in my stomach—it's an all-consuming need that claws at my insides, tearing me apart from the inside out. I can feel it in every part of me, gnawing at my bones, twisting in my gut, screaming for more.
More food. More blood. More strength.
But there's nothing here. No creatures, no humans. Just me and the endless hallways, stretching out in every direction, mocking me with their sameness.
*There has to be a way out,* I tell myself, even though the thought feels hollow. I don't know how long I've been in this place. Hours? Days? Time doesn't seem to exist here. It's just one long, unending nightmare.
I push off the wall and force myself to keep moving, my legs trembling beneath me. Each step feels heavier than the last, but I can't stop. I *won't* stop. There's something ahead, something more. I can feel it. I *have* to feel it. If I don't, if I let the hunger consume me, I'll die here, alone in the darkness.
My mind is a fog, clouded by the hunger and the confusion that never seems to leave me. I don't know who I am. I don't know where I came from. But I know I need to survive. I need to escape this place.
As I turn another corner, I hear something—a sound, faint but unmistakable. Voices. Not human voices, though. Something else. Something... different.
I freeze, my body going still, my breath catching in my throat. The voices are coming from up ahead, echoing through the corridor, growing louder with each passing second.
I move silently, creeping forward, my eyes narrowing as I peer around the corner. And then I see them.
A group of figures, standing in the middle of the hallway. They're not human, but they're not monsters, either. They're... something else. Tall, with long limbs and pointed ears. Their skin is pale, almost glowing in the dim light, and their eyes gleam with a strange, otherworldly intensity.
Elves.
The word pops into my mind, unbidden, and I don't know where it comes from. But it feels right. These creatures—these *elves*—are speaking in low voices, their words sharp and guttural, like the grinding of metal against stone.
And they're not alone.
There are others with them. Dwarfs, smaller but stocky, their faces twisted in scowls, and another group I can't quite place—large, with grayish skin and tusks protruding from their mouths.
*Orcs*.
I don't know how I know these names, but they flood my mind, strange and familiar all at once. These aren't the monsters I've been fighting. They're... *people*. Or something close to it.
But they don't look friendly.
I take a step back, my heart pounding in my chest, but it's too late. One of them sees me.
The elf shouts something—a sharp, barking command—and the others whip around to face me. Their eyes lock onto mine, and I see the recognition there. They know what I am. Or at least, they think they do.
The elf raises a weapon, something sleek and metallic, and points it directly at me. The others follow suit, drawing swords, axes, and more of those strange guns. They don't hesitate. They don't ask questions.
They just *attack*.
The first shot is fired, and I barely dodge in time, the bullet whizzing past my ear and slamming into the wall behind me. My body moves on instinct, driven by the same raw, animalistic survival instinct that has kept me alive in this hellish place.
I lunge at them, my hands outstretched, ready to tear into them like I've torn into every other creature I've faced. But these... these aren't mindless monsters. They're organized. Trained.
The first blow lands hard, an axe slamming into my side, sending me stumbling back. Pain explodes in my ribs, and I can feel the bone crack beneath the force of the blow. I let out a ragged gasp, but there's no time to recover.
The orc is on me in an instant, his massive fist connecting with my jaw, sending me sprawling to the ground. My vision blurs, and I taste blood in my mouth, but I force myself to my feet, swaying unsteadily as I face them.
Another shot rings out, and this time it hits me. The bullet slams into my shoulder, the pain searing through my body like fire. I let out a choked scream, my hand flying to the wound, blood spilling between my fingers.
They're too strong. There are too many of them.
I stagger back, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my vision swimming. The hunger is there, always there, but it's not enough. I'm not strong enough. Not this time.
The elf steps forward, his sword raised, ready to strike the killing blow.
I have to run. I have to *survive*.
With the last of my strength, I turn and sprint down the corridor, my legs screaming in protest with every step. Blood pours from my wounds, staining the ground beneath me, but I don't stop. I *can't* stop.
Behind me, I hear the sound of footsteps, the clanking of armor, the shouts of the elves and orcs as they chase me. They're faster than I am, stronger, but I know this place. I know the twists and turns of the labyrinth. I've been wandering through it for what feels like forever.
I turn another corner, my heart pounding in my chest, and spot a vent—a narrow opening in the wall, barely large enough for me to squeeze through. I don't hesitate. I dive toward it, crawling inside just as the first of my pursuers rounds the corner.
Their shouts echo through the vent as I crawl deeper into the darkness, my hands and knees scraping against the rough metal. My breath comes in ragged gasps, and the pain in my shoulder flares with every movement, but I keep going. I have to get away. I have to find a way out.
The vent twists and turns, a maze within a maze, but I keep moving, the sound of my own breathing the only thing I can hear. My wounds throb, and I can feel the blood soaking into my clothes, but there's no time to think about that now. I'll heal. I always heal. I just need time.