"Where the hell am I?" The words echoed in Nyx's mind, her thoughts trembling as reality hit her: she wasn't standing on solid ground. Her arms were stretched taut, each wrist chained to something unseen in the suffocating darkness. Around her, other figures hung suspended in the same grim tableau.
She craned her neck, the ache in her muscles sharpening her awareness of her surroundings. The air was heavy, thick with the acrid stench of burning incense and something far more sinister. Figures shrouded in black hoods encircled the prisoners, their chants a cacophony of languages, layered and overlapping like a strange symphony. Their faces were concealed, hidden beneath the deep shadows of their hoods, yet their movements were methodical, as if guided by an unseen force.
The circle was vast, spanning farther than Nyx could clearly see. Beyond the ring of chanting figures, her gaze fixed on the towering statue she had glimpsed earlier. Its form loomed impossibly large, an aberration of stone and shadow. Its hands, clasped as if in prayer, were abnormally elongated, and its head tilted upward, as though worshipping the void above.
A ripple passed through the hoods as a figure stepped forward from the base of the statue. The vibrant red of his robe cut through the oppressive darkness like fresh blood on snow. He moved with purpose, his presence commanding the attention of the others. As he passed, the black-hooded figures began to kneel, their bowed forms pressing against the earth. One by one, they chanted louder, their voices sharpening into a single phrase:
"Come to us. Come to us. Come to us."
The red-hooded figure halted just beyond the chained prisoners. Slowly, he raised his arms, the fabric of his robe billowing unnaturally, as though the very air recoiled from him. His voice, deep and resonant, reverberated through the air like a thunderclap.
"Come to us, O Great Old One," he intoned, each word dripping with reverence and malice.
The black-hooded figures cried out in response, their chant rising into a fevered crescendo.
Nyx's thoughts churned, racing to make sense of the unfolding nightmare. Her heart pounded against her ribs, her breaths quick and shallow. This... this can't be real. It looks so... familiar.
She glanced at her body, her hands, her legs. It was her body..... or at least it felt like it.... but something was wrong. The scattered memories surfacing in her mind weren't hers. Fragments of a small city, a quiet life, and the sudden terror of abduction flickered like static in her brain.
Her eyes darted back to the ritual around her. The hooded figures, the red-robed man, the prisoners suspended like broken marionettes.... everything was disturbingly familiar.
Then it hit her.
This is a ritual scene... from a video game.
Her breath hitched as the realization coiled around her like a snake. 'Last Era of the Apocalypse'. She had spent countless hours playing it, navigating its labyrinthine horrors, surviving its relentless cruelty.
But this wasn't just the game.
She was inside it.
And worse, she wasn't a hero, not a chosen one or even a minor character. She was a nameless NPC, one of the sacrificial lambs doomed to bring forth an eldritch nightmare.
A cold sweat broke out on her skin as the truth solidified. Her fear sharpened into a visceral thing, clawing at her insides. She tugged against the chains, but they didn't budge. Around her, the chanting grew louder, more frenzied.
"Come to us, come to us, come to us!"
The ground beneath her trembled, a low, rhythmic pulse, like a heartbeat too large and too ancient to belong to anything mortal. The sky above churned, its darkness deepening as more streaks of red lightning etched jagged scars across the clouds.
Du. Du. Du.
The rhythm grew louder, shaking the air.
Nyx's thoughts spiraled. No. No. No. This can't be happening. I'm not supposed to be here. This isn't real. I'm not real
A scream shattered her thoughts.
She turned, her neck straining against the unnatural angle, to see a woman chained beside her. The woman's belly swelled grotesquely, her screams warping into guttural gasps.
With a sickening wet crack, her stomach burst, spraying viscera in every direction. The woman's lifeless body slumped forward, her chains rattling against the growing silence.
Panic erupted among the prisoners. Cries of fear and desperation rose, their voices blending into the unholy chanting. One by one, the chained figures began to convulse, their bodies betraying them as the same horrific fate unfolded.
Nyx's breath quickened, her own fear threatening to drown her. It's going to be me next. Oh shit.. shit....
She squeezed her eyes shut, her body trembling uncontrollably.
Then the chanting stopped.
A silence more oppressive than the noise before it filled the air. The remaining prisoners stilled, their cries choking into silence. The earth beneath them shuddered, harder this time, as though something massive was stirring below.
The statue in the distance shifted.
At first, it was subtle.... a tremor in the stone, a slow grind of movement. Then, with an audible groan, it moved, its head tilting down to face the prisoners. The clasped hands parted, revealing long, jagged claws that glinted like obsidian under the crimson sky.
Nyx's eyes widened in horror. Her chest heaved as a single, desperate thought consumed her.
I am going to die here... just right when I came.
The statue smiled....
A Bloody Smile...