'OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE THREE WAVES.'

  The words came not like commands but like a death sentence whispered in the ear of the damned.

  The Maze shifted. Groaned. Like a throat preparing to swallow.

  And then—

  The sound.

  Not loud.

  Clicking.

  Skittering.

  Something hunting. Something hungry.

  Like claws dancing on bone. Like teeth sliding across wet glass.

  From the bleeding corners of the room crawled the first Nightmare—

  a whisper of the Dream-Demon’s cruelty.

  Its body tall, angular, stretched far beyond what flesh should permit. Skin nearly translucent, like wax paper clinging to sharpened bones. It had no mouth. No nose. No voice. Just those eyes—

  Pale green orbs, pulsing softly in empty sockets, watching them without emotion. Without mercy.

  It moved.

  It leapt.

  Thomas barely rolled in time, the claws of the creature carving through the space where his head had just been.

  Sara didn’t hesitate. She seized a broken pipe, rusted and still warm, and slammed it into its side.

  It didn’t scream.

  It didn’t bleed.

  It turned.

  Unbothered. Unstoppable.

  “HEART ONLY!” Thomas shouted, grabbing a femur and cracking it across the Nightmare’s temple. “Volume Seven! They only die if you pierce the heart—right ribcage. It glows!”

  Sara’s eyes found it—a faint pulse beneath the bone.

  She charged, bone shard in hand, and drove it deep.

  The creature shrieked—but in reverse.

  Like time unraveling. Like existence choking on itself.

  It crumbled into ash.

  “Killed a Nightmare.”

  “Soul Point: 4.”

  “You’re holding back,” Sara hissed. “You didn’t help until it got dangerous.”

  You need to learn to survive… Thomas replied coldly.

  “I already killed the boss. These are just leftovers. Call it training".

  ”This is still the easiest it gets.”

  But then—

  a cry.

  A scream that split the room.

  John.

  WAVE TWO.

  Two more Nightmares erupted from the walls like maggots from a corpse. One held John by the throat, its claws pressed into his skin. He looked terrified, desperate.

  “JOHN!” Sara screamed, bolting forward.

  The second Nightmare tackled Thomas to the floor, its claws plunging into his shoulder like red-hot nails.

  Absolute. Pain.

  He choked on blood, his own blood—soaking through torn cloth, dripping to the floor like spilled wine.

  He rammed the bone shard into its glowing heart.

  It convulsed and collapsed.

  Sara had tried to reach John. One Nightmare sliced at her side, ripping open her jacket and her skin. She slammed into a bone pillar.

  “F**k!” she screamed.

  John broke free—somehow—and jumped onto the Nightmare’s back. Thomas rushed forward, stabbing the shard into its heart.

  The Nightmare dropped, twitching.

  “Thank God,” John coughed, limping forward. “I thought I was dead. I—I’m so glad to see you guys…”

  Sara caught her breath. “Where’s the rest of your group?”

  John hesitated. “Dead… I think. Maze shifted. Ground split. I was pulled in here alone.”

  “That’s not possible,” Thomas muttered. “The Maze doesn’t pull people between instances. That wasn’t in any of the books.”

  Then—

  Thomas saw it.

  John’s wound.

  The blood.

  Thick. Slow.

  Black.

  Sara noticed too. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “That’s not blood.”

  “What?” John laughed nervously. “What are you talking about?”

  Thomas stood. Every instinct screamed.

  “John… what color is human blood?”

  John blinked.

  “…Green—wait. No. Red. It’s red, right?”

  Sara’s breath stopped.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Thomas’s fists clenched. “the Hollow.”

  “What? How can you know that?” she asked.

  “Volume 12, Chapter 5,” Thomas said quietly. “First test. Ask them the color of blood. If they answer wrong… they’re not human.”

  “You only read ten volumes…” Thomas whispered.

  John’s smile faltered. Then widened.

  Far too wide.

  Skin peeled back. Like wet paper splitting down the seams.

  John’s face—still clinging, hanging, melting—became a mask.

  Beneath it, tendrils pulsed like veins filled with ink. Pale bone. Gleaming eyes. Something not made of flesh. Something that pretended.

  Something born of hollow things.

  “You figured it out,” it cooed, voice layered with mockery and echoing rot.

  “But it’s too late.”

  Sara screamed, “WHAT DID YOU DO TO THEM?!”

  The Hollow grinned.

  “Oh.

  Them.

  Hahahahahahahaha…

  They were beautiful.”

  (One Day Earlier – The Others)

  The golden door sealed behind them like a wound stitching shut.

  John. The pale woman. The man in glasses. The old man.

  The walls pulsed.

  The Maze breathed.

  They didn’t realize the door had vanished.

  They didn’t realize

  John was already smiling.

  Hour One.

  The man in glasses muttered about the glyphs.

  “There’s logic here. A message. If I can just…”

  CRACK.

  John twisted his neck until the bone split like wet wood.

  They found the body minutes later.

  Eyes scooped. Jaw ripped open.

  Arms crossed in mock-prayer.

  “Must’ve been a trap,” John whispered.

  Hour Ten.

  The old man watched John too closely.

  “You don’t blink. You don’t sweat. Something’s wrong with you.”

  John smiled. “You’re tired. Rest.”

  He did.

  He never woke.

  They found him hanging by his tendons.

  His skin peeled in spirals.

  His guts spilled out into one word:

  HOLLOW

  Hour Twenty.

  The pale woman stopped sleeping.

  She carved runes into her skin, praying. Praying to forgotten gods.

  “I’m not the Hollow,” she whimpered.

  “I know,” John said, gently.

  He crushed her skull between slabs of summoned stone.

  It cracked like pottery. Her brain leaked out, steaming.

  Hour Twenty-Four.

  John walked alone.

  The Maze bent to him now.

  “PLAYER JOHN VANE – ALIGNMENT CONFIRMED.”

  “HOLLOW DESIGNATION UNLOCKED.”

  “SOUL POWER: 7.”

  He smiled. Dragged the pipe. Licked blood from his fingers.

  “Now… for Thomas and Sara.”

  (Presently)

  John finished tearing through the last of his borrowed skin.

  Wave Three began.

  Three Nightmares erupted like tumors from the earth.

  But they did not attack.

  They merged with the Hollow.

  Its bones lengthened. Its arms multiplied. Eyes opened in its stomach. Its spine split into barbed tails. A swirling cathedral of meat and hatred and hunger.

  It's soul power now '12.'

  Sara gasped. “It’s too fast."

  Thomas gritted his teeth, blood pouring from his wounds.

  “Shit. This is it, isn’t it?”

  From beyond the veil, something watched.... an ancient god.

  Forgotten. Starving.

  Its voice was all static. Its broken smile

  “I already pointed the Hollow toward him…”

  whispered.

  “Now finish the job.”

  "Kill the fool who does not know his plac-..."