Nightmare of the Abyss

The cell was cold, damp, and silent except for the occasional murmurs of the other prisoners. Bruno sat on the worn stone bench, his back against the wall, his fingers loosely intertwined as he rested his hands on his knees. He wasn't the type to panic—not anymore.

Raine was sitting across from him, knees drawn to her chest. Her gaze occasionally flickered to the far end of the prison corridor, where the more unstable prisoners were kept. Some of them whispered to themselves, others stared blankly at the ceiling, and a few rattled their bars in slow, absent-minded motions.

Varen leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Silas, as expected, was the least bothered, stretching his arms as if he was merely resting in a poorly kept inn.

No one spoke.

They were waiting—for their fate to be decided.

Then, the heavy iron doors creaked open. Footsteps echoed in the chamber as armored soldiers entered. Their faces were obscured by helmets, but their movements were sharp, precise. No wasted steps, no hesitation. These weren't simple guards—they were trained, disciplined.

"The four of you. Move," one of them ordered, unlocking their cells.

Silas rolled his shoulders. "Well, that didn't take long."

Bruno stood, giving Raine a glance. She exhaled slowly before following.

As they stepped into the corridor, a raspy voice reached Bruno's ears.

"The moment you let them decide your worth... you have already lost."

Bruno's gaze snapped toward the source—a prisoner pressed against the bars of his cell, his face partially hidden under long, unkempt hair. His eyes, hollow and bloodshot, locked onto Bruno's.

Bruno didn't respond, but the words lingered.

The soldiers led them through winding halls, eventually stopping before a reinforced door. It slid open with a mechanical hiss, revealing a large, dimly lit chamber. A long table sat in the center, surrounded by guards.

They were placed in seats—opposite a man standing near the far wall. He was clad in a black cloak, a silver mask obscuring his features. The air in the room shifted.

Varen tensed.

Bruno noticed it immediately—the subtle tightening of Varen's fingers, the slight narrowing of his gaze.

He knew this kind of presence.

The masked figure stepped forward, his voice smooth yet weighted.

"You are qualified to stay."

No introduction. No questions.

Bruno narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean?"

The masked man folded his arms. "It means we have verified your actions. You destroyed the entity within the Abyssal Gate—a task that even experienced mercenary squads struggle with."

"So?" Silas leaned back. "What, you gonna give us a medal?"

The masked figure ignored the remark. "It would be a waste to discard potential assets."

Bruno exchanged a glance with Raine.

The man continued. "You likely have many questions. Let's start with the most important one—what is this place?"

He took a slow step forward.

"This pocket dimension was first discovered by Abyssal Cartographers. A fractured space—neither part of the Abyss nor the world outside it. A place where those who survive long enough end up, whether by chance… or by design."

Raine stiffened. "By design?"

The masked man gave a slow nod.

"There are forces beyond the Abyss, beyond what you understand, that have stakes in this place. This dimension was once a sanctuary. Now, it is a prison. Those who enter either become part of its system, or they vanish."

Bruno frowned. "System?"

The man gestured to the guards.

"There are people here, like you, who have learned to run it. Factions, hierarchies, rules—some of them dictated by the world itself, others by those who have claimed control. Resources are limited. Balance must be maintained. If you disrupt it, you die. If you contribute… you survive."

Silas exhaled sharply. "So it's just another game of power."

The masked man tilted his head slightly. "Everything is."

Bruno's gaze didn't waver. "And you? What's your stake in this?"

The room went silent.

Then, the masked man chuckled.

"I want to escape."

His words carried weight, cutting through the air like a blade.

Bruno's fingers curled slightly.

The masked man leaned forward. "You think I'm the only one? No. Many have tried. All have failed. But I am patient. I am calculating. And I know one thing for certain—your arrival has already shifted the balance."

Varen finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "You want to use us."

The masked man didn't deny it.

"I want to offer you a choice," he said. "You can struggle against the system like the prisoners in the cells you came from. You can rot away until this place takes everything from you. Or… you can play the game correctly."

Bruno stayed silent.

Raine's hands were clasped tightly on her lap. Silas smirked, but his eyes were cold. Varen remained unreadable.

The masked man straightened.

"We will provide resources, information, and protection." His tone didn't shift. "In return, you will aid us in our efforts to unravel this dimension's true purpose… and find a way out."

Bruno considered the words carefully.

"And if we refuse?"

The masked man tilted his head.

"Then you will remain in your cell, and this world will decide your fate for you."

Silence.

Bruno looked at his team.

Then he exhaled, leaning back slightly in his chair.

"Tell us everything we need to know."

The masked man's expression was unreadable behind his mask.

But Bruno could feel it—the weight of unseen players moving their pieces on the board.