Chương 14: The Beginning of the Adventure

Lloyd had been walking through the dark tunnel for ten minutes already. The darkness here was alive. Not simply the absence of light — but something dense, oppressive, as though the air itself had become slightly thicker and heavier. The flashlight beam picked out a narrow strip of wet asphalt ahead, concrete walls on either side streaked with long brown stains, a low ceiling overhead. Everything else remained darkness — impenetrable, absolute, the kind in which you start seeing movement where there is none.

His footsteps rang out hollow and full — the sound travelled forward, bounced off invisible walls and returned a fraction too late, like an echo in an empty building. Somewhere in the darkness water dripped monotonously. Infrequently, methodically — drip. A long pause. Drip. And then silence again, which after each sound seemed even denser than before. The cold of the tunnel had long since worked its way through his jacket. Not sharp, not biting — a quiet, damp cold that settled on the skin and went nowhere.

The air here was heavy — with the taste of wet concrete, stagnant water, and something else Lloyd couldn't find a name for. Something old. Something that hadn't seen light in a very long time. The grim atmosphere pressed in from all sides. Not sharply, not suddenly — but slowly, gradually, like water seeping through clothing in the rain. First just unpleasant. Then cold. Then you start noticing every sound — every rustle, every drop, every breath you take.

And the longer you walk, the more carefully you listen to the darkness behind you. And then again — a rustle. Behind him. Lloyd spun around sharply, throwing the flashlight beam into the darkness at his back. His heart gave one heavy beat and held for a second. There was nothing there. An empty tunnel, wet asphalt, walls dissolving into blackness. No movement, no silhouette, no shadow.

Only a drop broke loose somewhere from the ceiling and struck the floor — the sound scattered through the tunnel in all directions, bounced off the walls and faded somewhere far ahead. Lloyd slowly exhaled. The exhale came out louder than he would have liked — the tunnel caught it and stretched it out.

"I really am starting to regret coming here." He turned and kept walking. To avoid thinking about the darkness behind him, about the rustles, about the way the low ceiling pressed down from above and the echo of his footsteps sounded just slightly wrong — he started thinking about something else. Anything else.

"I paid a pretty penny — for the knife, and for the data on the dungeon. If all of this turns out to be a lie... I can't even imagine what I'd do to them." He smiled into the darkness — without warmth.

"Though what would I actually do to them. I don't even know who they are or where they are. The horned girl's video disappeared from social media altogether. Looks like she told a bit too much truth." Lloyd walked on, glancing over his shoulder every now and then. Each time — nothing. Only darkness, only wet walls, only his own echo. He tried to keep his eyes straight ahead — toward where the flashlight beam hit. That was easier.

The darkness behind him was worse than the darkness in front — because behind him he couldn't see it.

"I wonder how they even figure out where the next dungeon will appear. And why only the green category. So many questions — and not a single answer. Well... I hope this isn't a lie." He looked up thoughtfully — at the tunnel ceiling covered in moss and cracks, from which thin threads of limestone hung down. In one spot water seeped through a crack — a thin dark streak down the concrete, gathering into a small puddle on the asphalt. Lloyd stepped around it carefully.

"Although if it is a lie — I wouldn't mind either. Home is obviously more pleasant. Though the money is a shame..." He kept walking. Twenty minutes. The tunnel didn't change — the same walls streaked with rust and damp, the same wet asphalt underfoot, the same darkness ahead and behind. The smell of damp had long since become familiar, almost unnoticeable. The hollow echo of footsteps — familiar. The methodical drops of water somewhere in the darkness — familiar.

Lloyd walked and thought, thought and walked, and the tunnel stretched on and on and on — without turns, without changes, without a single hint that there was an end somewhere. The flashlight beam pressed into the darkness ahead and pulled nothing out of it. Just darkness — and that was all. And then — not all. Lloyd stopped so sharply that his sneaker soles squeaked against the wet asphalt. The flashlight beam hit something that shouldn't have been here. That couldn't have been here at all.

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"Wait. Is that...? No. I don't believe it. Is this actually real?!" Lloyd slowly moved closer. It was a door. An ordinary red door — tall, neat, with a gold handle. It stood in the middle of the tunnel on nothing, set into nothing, supported by nothing. It simply stood — by itself, in the middle of a damp abandoned tunnel, as though that was perfectly normal. Lloyd walked around it to the side, shone the flashlight behind it. The tunnel simply continued there. Walls, asphalt, darkness.

The door stood in empty space, leaning on nothing, and yet looked completely steady — monumental, even, if that word can be applied to a door in the middle of an abandoned tunnel. He came and stood in front of it again. It was red — a deep, saturated colour that the flashlight beam pulled from the surrounding grey sharply and unexpectedly. That red had no place in this tunnel whatsoever — like a flower growing through asphalt, like something living among the dead. Not a scratch.

Not a trace of mould or damp, of which there was plenty here. The paint — perfect, smooth, without a single bubble or chip. The gold handle gleamed in the flashlight — clean, without a single rust spot, without fingerprints. As though it had been polished today. There was a particular dread in this. Not in the fact that the door stood in the middle of the tunnel by itself — though that was disturbing enough on its own. But in its perfect condition.

Among all this damp, moss, concrete stains, peeling paint and the smell of stagnant water — this door looked as though it had just come off a showroom floor. It violated something fundamental. Some basic law about how things are supposed to look in abandoned places. Lloyd stood in front of it and said nothing. He held the flashlight straight at it — at the red surface, at the gold handle. Several thoughts were turning in his head at once, and not one of them came to the front.

The less a person knows about something — the more strongly that something frightens them. It works every time, without exception. The mind fills the void with whatever it fears most — and what it produces is worse than any reality. But at the same time — and this also works every time — the unknown draws you in. Because fear and excitement live next door to each other and feed on the same thing.

Lloyd felt both at once — a cold fear somewhere around his stomach and a sharp, almost painful desire to open this door and see what was behind it.

"If I open it — in theory, the tunnel should continue on the other side. Right?" He walked around the door one more time, examined it from all sides. The floor beneath it was the same wet asphalt as everywhere else. No signs of installation, no fixtures, no scratches from having been dragged here. It simply stood here — as though it had grown up from the floor on its own.

"This is definitely it. The description on the site matches exactly. But how did they know the door would appear here? Maybe it's a prank. Maybe someone just carried it in and set it up." Lloyd stopped in front of the door. The flashlight beam fell directly on the gold handle — it gleamed steadily and calmly, as though waiting. Had been waiting a long time. Patiently. He exhaled — slowly, deeply. Raised his hand.

"Well. God willing." His fingers closed around the gold handle. The metal was cold — not just cool, but genuinely cold, colder than the air in the tunnel. Lloyd pressed down and pulled toward him. The door opened easily — without a creak, without resistance, as though it had been waiting for exactly this moment. Behind it there was no continuation of the tunnel. Behind it was void.

Black, absolute, without a single shade or gradation — just blackness filling the entire opening from edge to edge, from floor to top frame. Not darkness that a flashlight can dispel. Not shadow. Void — like a black spot in space, like a hole cut into the air with a sharp knife. The flashlight beam struck it and disappeared — didn't reflect, didn't illuminate anything inside, simply vanished, swallowed without a trace. No reflection. No echo. Nothing. Lloyd stood before the open door and stared into the blackness.

Held the handle. Didn't move.

"What do I do?" The void didn't move. Made no sound. Reacted in no way. It simply was — even, impenetrable, endless. The tunnel behind him dripped. The flashlight shone into nothing. Then Lloyd slowly raised his free hand and pushed it into the blackness. His hand passed through the boundary — and nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. On the other side the temperature was the same as in the tunnel — perhaps a fraction colder, barely. No resistance, no sensation on the skin.

His hand simply disappeared up to the wrist into the blackness, and that was all. Lloyd wiggled his fingers — nothing. Made a fist — nothing. He pulled his hand back out. Felt it with his other hand.

"Seems to be in one piece..." He took out his phone, opened the page with the dungeon description. The screen seemed unnaturally bright here, in the darkness of the tunnel. Time until closing — twelve hours.

"Well. I hope I'll make it." Lloyd switched off the screen and put the phone in his pocket. Stood for another second. Looked at the black opening in front of him. Then — back, into the darkness of the tunnel behind him. The tunnel looked back — empty, damp, indifferent. There is no way back. Not in the sense that he physically couldn't turn around. He could. But then what was the point of all this?

The knife, the backpack, the money spent on information, these thirty minutes through a dark tunnel with the hair rising on the back of his neck after every rustle? He thought about his family. About how long it had been since he'd seen them truly happy. Images surfaced on their own — fragmentary, indistinct, but warm. Voices. Faces. The way things used to be — and the way they were now. Lloyd closed his eyes. For a few seconds he simply stood. The tunnel dripped.

Somewhere far off something rustled in the darkness. Cold settled on his shoulders. Then he opened his eyes.

"Protect my family." A pause.

"See them truly happy again." Another pause — longer. He stared into the void before him, and in his eyes a small glint slowly appeared. Not a tear. Just a glint — the reflection of the flashlight in the eyes of someone who made their decision long ago, but is only now saying it out loud. If only to themselves.

"And this is the only way to save her." He clenched his teeth. Switched off the flashlight. And stepped into the black void.