The air in Jason Miller's cramped apartment felt oppressive. Stacks of unpaid bills and empty coffee cups littered the small desk where he hunched over his laptop. His reflection on the blackened screen stared back at him, tired and worn. Another rejection email had just arrived, this time from a job he'd been overqualified for.
Jason leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Another day in paradise," he muttered.
It was a Saturday night, but instead of joining his friends at the bar or indulging in a rare moment of relaxation, he was trapped in an endless cycle of searching for purpose. The city outside his window buzzed with life, its neon lights reflecting off the rain-slick streets. Somewhere out there, people were laughing, thriving, living. Meanwhile, he was drowning in monotony.
As his eyes wandered to his cluttered desk, something caught his attention: a red envelope that definitely hadn't been there before.
Jason frowned. "What the...?" He reached for it cautiously, half expecting it to disappear as quickly as it had appeared. The paper was thick, almost waxy, and unnaturally cold to the touch. There was no return address, no name, just a swirling emblem embossed in black ink—a symbol resembling a twisting carnival tent.
With growing unease, Jason broke the wax seal. Inside was a single card, its edges gilded and shimmering faintly in the dim light.
"Congratulations, Jason Miller. You have been selected to join a once-in-a-lifetime event: Hell's Carnival. Your adventure begins at midnight. Prepare yourself."
Jason blinked at the strange, almost mocking font of the words. "Hell's Carnival?" he whispered aloud, turning the card over. It was blank on the other side, but the moment he touched it, the temperature in the room plummeted.
His breath fogged in the sudden chill as his laptop flickered back to life, the screen displaying the same swirling carnival emblem. The sound of distant laughter echoed faintly through the room, though there was no one else there.
"Is this some kind of prank?" Jason muttered, his heart hammering in his chest. Yet, as he stared at the screen, the laughter grew louder, more menacing. His vision blurred, the edges of the room twisting unnaturally. He tried to stand, but his legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the floor.
The last thing he saw before the world faded into darkness was the carnival emblem spinning endlessly on the screen, pulling him in like a vortex.
...
Jason awoke in a place that wasn't his apartment. The air smelled of charred wood and sulfur, a heavy, oppressive heat pressing down on him. He pushed himself to his feet, the ground beneath him shifting like coarse sand. Around him, towering spires of grotesque architecture loomed, structures that looked like a twisted fusion of carnival rides and ancient ruins.
"What... where am I?" Jason whispered, his voice trembling.
A shrill whistle pierced the air, followed by an eerie, distorted call:
"Welcome to Hell's Carnival! The show begins soon!"
Jason turned toward the voice, his stomach sinking. A figure in a tattered ringmaster's coat stood atop a crumbling platform. Its face was obscured by a grotesque mask, its grin too wide, its eyes glowing faintly red.
"Jason Miller," the figure intoned, its voice dripping with malice. "You've been chosen. Let the games begin."
...
Jason stumbled backward, his breath caught in his throat. The oppressive atmosphere of the place weighed on him, sapping his strength with every passing moment. The ringmaster-like figure vanished in a wisp of black smoke, leaving only an echoing chuckle in its wake.
The landscape around him stretched infinitely, a sickening blend of nightmare and carnival. Ferris wheels creaked in the distance, spinning on their own, their cabins twisted into iron cages. Scarlet tents dotted the horizon, their flaps fluttering like jagged, torn fabric. A deep, pulsating rhythm seemed to emanate from the very ground, like the heartbeat of a malevolent entity.
Jason clenched his fists to steady himself. "This has to be a dream. It has to be," he muttered, but the sensation of the rough, scorched sand beneath his palms was too real.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, jarring sound—a metallic chime, followed by a voice that seemed to resonate directly inside his skull.
"Welcome, Participant #807. System initialization complete. Please stand by while your Character Card is generated."
Jason froze. The voice was monotone and mechanical, devoid of emotion but oddly commanding. "System? What the hell does that mean?"
Before he could fully process the words, a translucent panel blinked into existence before him. It hovered mid-air, faintly glowing, and displayed rows of text.
[CHARACTER CARD INITIALIZATION]
Name: Jason Miller
Level: 1
Occupation: Unassigned
Attributes:
Strength: 5
Dexterity: 6
Physique: 5
Intelligence: 7
Wisdom: 6
Perception: 6
Spirit: 4
Jason stared at the screen in disbelief. His name, his stats—this was like something out of a video game. He hesitantly reached out, his fingers passing through the panel as though it were made of mist.
"What is this?" he whispered.
The voice returned, its tone unchanged. "Participant #807, your survival depends on adapting to the challenges of Hell's Carnival. Complete tasks, grow stronger, and uncover the means to escape."
Jason's heart raced. "Escape? So I really am trapped here..."
The system responded immediately. "Affirmative. Failure to comply with the Carnival's rules will result in termination."
"Termination?!" Jason yelled, panic seeping into his voice. "You can't just—what does that even mean?"
The panel shimmered and updated.
[Objective: Initiation]
Survive the first event of Hell's Carnival.
Reward: System Unlock.
Time Remaining: 10:00
Jason's eyes locked on the countdown timer that appeared at the bottom of the screen. Ten minutes.
The voice returned, this time colder and more deliberate. "The first event begins shortly. Prepare yourself."
Jason's surroundings began to shift. The ground trembled beneath him, and the sky—if it could be called that—darkened to an unnatural black. Jagged lights of crimson and gold streaked through the air like distorted fireworks. In the distance, laughter erupted, guttural and unhinged.
The sand beneath his feet hardened into cracked stone as a massive circular arena began to form around him. Iron gates rose from the ground, their rusted bars glistening with moisture that looked suspiciously like blood. The timer on his screen ticked away mercilessly.
Jason stumbled toward the nearest gate, gripping the bars in desperation. "What's going on? What am I supposed to do?"
The voice didn't answer this time, but the gates creaked open with an agonizing slowness, revealing a pitch-black corridor. From within, the sound of claws scraping against stone echoed ominously. Jason felt a chill crawl down his spine as glowing eyes began to appear in the darkness, each pair fixed intently on him.
The timer on his Character Card reached 9:00, and Jason took a shaky step back. Whatever was coming, he wasn't ready.