Online In Another World

He was completely enveloped in a sense of ‘flight’–sprinting down the suspended bridges, having to duck beneath a propulsion of steam at the last moment. The steam managed to graze his cheek, turning it red as it seared in a burning sensation, though the adrenaline pumping through his body made him hardly register the pain.

Returning to the intersection of metal bridges, he took a turn to the left, going down the path that he initially found Cube Head on.

Again, he looked back to find it gaining on him, to which he gave himself more space by using wind at his heels to propel himself forward.

“Ngh…!” He gritted his teeth.

Racing forward, he found himself staring at a doorway up ahead; it was a sight of utter hope while dread nipped at his heels.

It was just within ten meters now, not much further–

SNAP.

Suddenly, the bridge he was running across jumbled and shook as the sound of the suspensions snapping resounded in a harrowing echo.

“…Huh…?!”

Before he could react, the path ahead dropped down, resulting in him beginning to slide down the slope, facing the abyss of rustic steel and machinery below.

Though he managed to catch himself before falling, there was little strength in his fingers to hold himself as he desperately clung to the steel.

“Ghh…!” He struggled._.

As he attempted to lift himself, the stomps of the Cube Head, along with the familiar grating of its massive blade being dragged across the metal bridge invoked further dread and desperation in him.

His legs dangled over the abyss of the endless factory, feeling the hot air tingle against his skin as he hung on.

…My strength isn’t going to last! He thought.

Even magic invocations became dulled by his exhaustion before the heavy stomps of the approaching fiend caused his grip to loosen before he began his descent.

“Argh…! Ghh-!!”

Swallowed by the depths of the nightmarish factory, he fell downwards, falling past networks of pipes, barely evading propulsions of skin-melting steam, all while finding himself staring at the pitch-black darkness below that never seemed to come closer.

…I need to find the right moment! He told himself.

There was little left in the tank when it came to mana; he was hardly given any opportunity to recuperate and he was already working off of an exhausted reservoir before entering the trapped city.

As he descended rapidly with the winds tugging at his hair and his cape fluttering, he looked to the side, finding many tunnels embedded in the walls. It was impossible to say where they led, but it was infinitely better than being stuck in his perpetual descent, or worse, a descent with a gruesome end.

With one of the tunnels coming into sight, hugging the left wall, he timed it perfectly–

Now! He thought.

Using a blast of wind to charge his course, he knocked himself leftward, landing harshly on the threshold of the mysterious tunnel.

“…Hhf…” He caught his breath, coughing out.

As he stood up, brushing himself off as a scab from the friction was left on his right knee, he looked down the shadow-filled tunnel that smelled of copper.

This is how the Unending Nightmare took out Larundog, he thought, these endless spaces…just walking through a door traps you in places forged from nightmares like this. I’m barely getting by with magic…I can’t imagine what it’s like for others.

It was hard to grasp the scope of such abstract magic; it was enough that the Unending Nightmare completely enveloped Larundog into an inescapable hellscape, but the existence of other dimensions, connected yet so different, was something on another level.

Such a concept made him feel tiny in comparison, hoping not to be washed away by the malevolent forces.

…This is what adventurers go through all the time, right? Roan said as much, he thought, these sort of experiences…I never imagined I’d face them in my wildest dreams.

As he traversed the metallic tunnel, he found himself thinking about the fact he’d yet to see the culprit responsible for this mess–the ‘Unending Nightmare’–an entity that seemed more like a concept; a coalescence of fear and despair itself.

Yet, he’d yet to lay his eyes on it.

After what it’d taken from him, he wanted to face it. Despite his fears and reservations, that was the truth–he wanted to end the nightmare, but most of all, he wanted to face the outlet for his lamentation.

There was a feeling of powerlessness; a lack of meaning in his own survival as he went on. Losing his companions, he felt as if everything was slipping through his fingers.

I’ll kill it myself, he thought, a creature like that can’t get away with this.

With that promise in mind, his thoughts quickly vanished as every other sense went numb in the face of what happened next: the wall to his right, just behind him, suddenly exploded outward as steam from the shattered pipes cast out.

He moved forward, raising his arms as the vapor momentarily burned him, but left no lasting marks.

What was that…? He questioned.

Stepping out from the other side of the rusted walls was a sight he seldom wanted to lay his eyes on: the apron-wearing, cube-headed entity began dragging its blade across the ground once more.

“You again…!?” He reacted.

He instinctively raised his staff in preparation to fling magic, but remembered the futility of it against Cube Head’s impervious flesh before instead running down the tunnel.

Again, the cranking of machinery grew loud, beating against his ears as Cube Head gave chase to him.

Steam began exuding from pips on either side of the walls, forcing him to duck and bob his head as he rushed forward, doused in sweat and breathing heavily from the straining heat that enveloped him.

“…Hhhf…!”

He found himself starved of breath as his blonde locks dropped from the sweat that poured off of himself.

Continuing to race forward, he stumbled at the panic bubbling within, using his own two hands to crawl for a moment while Cube Head stalked away; the horrifying entity filled the width of the tunnel with his large build.

Through the darkness, a door at the end of the tunnel came into view; it was a sight that reignited him as he pushed on before–

HISSSS.

A gasket blew off the wall, causing steam to shoot directly towards his face as he winced and continued forward, caressing his head the left side of his head bled from the momentary contact with the intangible heat.

…Just keep…going…! He thought to himself.

There was something overwhelming about the unstoppable force that was Cube Head; it never stopped following him and seemed impossible to hold back.

With that in mind, he rushed to the rustic door, finding it to be kept sealed by a weathered wheel.

“…Come on…!”

As he gripped the wheel to turn it, he immediately withdrew his hands as he was meat with a scalding sensation; it was incredibly hot.

Shit, shit, shit…! Why?! He thought.

Every primal part of his brain that was wired to ignore something that caused such potent pain made his hands tremble as they neared the wheel again, but as he glanced back to find the scar-covered, apron-wearing Cube Head gaining on him, he took the dive.

Gripping onto the boiling wheel, he used all of his strength to begin turning it, “Aargh…!”

It wasn’t enough that it was as if he had to grip flames themselves, but it was tightly sealed, forcing him to completely strain his exhausted body to slowly turn it.

The overwhelming heat that flowed through the rusted material ate away at the skin of his fingers as it squeaked, sounding as if it hadn’t been turned in decades.

“Open…!”

As he finally turned it all the way around, with the heavy machinery and footsteps of Cube Head drawing closer, the thick door unlocked with a resounding click.

Those few seconds in which he peeled his palms off of the boiling wheel and opened the door as Cube Head came within reach of him were agonizing; just as the massive sword was hoisted up, he ducked through the door–escaping the terror.

“…Huff…”

He fell to his knees, finding the ear-grating ambience of machinery clanking and whirring to be gone as silence met as gratifying silence met his ears.

Looking down at his hands, the skin was burnt off of his palms and fingers as a light coat of steam poured off, though with the adrenaline still pumping through his body, he didn’t experience the pain that came with it.

“…I made it out…”

–Or so he thought.

As he looked down, he realized his knees were touching clammy soil. Slowly bringing his gaze up, he found the scenery before him to be a dark swamp, filled with towering trees that had blood-red leaves that resembled spider lilies blooming on their form.

I’m not back in the city…? What? He questioned.

He began to realize the true terror of the situation as dread settled into the core of his being.

This was the true nature of the ‘Unending Nightmare’–he was now trapped in a series of hellish worlds.

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