Thank You,
Knight Teir: "Jacob", "Ralfs Abele", "Lucas Varnas", and "Joel Vincent"
For Becoming A Member On My Pa'treon. The Emperor Protect.
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"Damn it! Is this really possible???"
"Wow! It worked, it actually worked!"
"Hahaha!"
"That's Crazy! If I wasn't scared out of my wits, I'd jump right into the game and try it myself!"
"Amazing! Can something like this even be created?"
"Conceptual liquids can actually be produced... this coffee machine is seriously too powerful!"
The chat in the stream flared, lines of messages flashing rapidly across the screen as viewers were left utterly stunned by the coffee machine's impossible reaction.
Inside the game, the group felt the same. Everyone's eyes widened, their gazes glued to the coffee machine in disbelief. Yes, it had really happened. Shortly after Brit entered the instructions, the coffee machine actually responded. With a quiet click, a glass appeared, set gently down by the machine.
What did this mean? It meant Brit's command had been successfully executed. The coffee machine could really produce "a cup of liquid that can help you beat the game"! This wasn't just impressive, it was a BUG-level ability! After all, their ultimate goal was to clear the game. But now, this machine could conjure a magical liquid that aided directly in that task. How could they not be shocked?
Of course, Brit's command was only designed to help with clearing the game. It wasn't a miraculous potion that instantly completed the level after a single sip. It wasn't as if Brit hadn't considered that possibility, but he had dismissed it as unrealistic. A drink that could end the game outright? That was practically impossible to create; otherwise, the balance of the game would collapse completely.
Since many had already cleared games before, he chose a more reasonable option: a liquid that would merely assist in progressing further. Even then, he had braced himself for failure. But against all expectations, he succeeded. The coffee machine had produced the liquid exactly as requested! This was beyond surprise; it was a revelation.
Brit stared at the coffee machine with sharp, focused eyes, almost unwilling to blink. The machine vibrated softly as it finished pouring. The glass was filled with a transparent, crystal-clear liquid, the surface gleaming as it settled into a perfect stillness. A full glass, nothing less.
At first glance, it looked indistinguishable from ordinary water. Brit lifted the glass carefully, brought it under his nose, and inhaled. No strange scent. No hidden essence. No matter how he examined it, this was just water.
The others leaned in close, their eyes filled with curiosity, scanning the glass as if they might spot some hidden clue.
"Drinking this... it really makes you beat the game faster?" Vale muttered, fingers stroking his chin, suspicion plain in his tone.
The other exchanged skeptical looks. It was absurd. A glass of plain-looking water that somehow held the power to help them pass the game? By what principle? Through what mechanism? What would happen the moment it touched their lips?
"Do we even have anything to store it in?" Brit frowned, glancing through his gear, but found nothing usable.
Vale and the others checked too, with the same result. A dilemma immediately formed. They couldn't just drink it yet, not without knowing how it worked. But carrying it was also a problem. There were no proper containers, and leaving them behind was unthinkable. Were they really going to walk around with an open glass of water? One misstep, one stumble, and it would spill everywhere.
The four of them hesitated, their thoughts tangled in frustration. Eventually, with no other option, they chose to move forward. There was no container, no extra coins, and no more reason to linger. Thus, the four, led by Brit, set off once more, venturing deeper into the map. Their pace was slowed.
Brit cradled the glass with both hands, cautious with every step. The clear liquid shimmered faintly, as though secrets were hidden in its depths, reflecting the anxious faces of the group as they pressed on through the game world.
They crossed the stairs and returned to the covered bridge. Onward they went, reaching a heavy metal door they had never dared to approach before. Since Brit's hands were occupied, Vale took over the task of opening the door.
But just as his fingers touched the cold metal, disaster struck. Behind them, on the concrete wall of the bridge, a dark, viscous substance began to seep out, oozing as if from deep inside the structure itself. It spread unnaturally fast. And then... a figure emerged.
Brit and the others froze, their eyes widening in horror. It was RT. But not the RT they once knew. This was RT transformed into a zombie. His body was rotten, flesh sloughing away, his eyes sunken deep into his skull. Dried blood stained his face and skin, grotesque and pitiful. A gaping wound split open his chest, exposing organs that pulsed faintly within. Even his heart bulged outward in grotesque rhythm, ready to burst at any moment. The sight of him was nothing short of terrifying.
"Oh, my god..." Kiwo was the first to talk out loud, while the other stifled her scream by clamping her hands over her mouth.
Brit and Vale felt their blood run cold. None of them could have imagined they would see RT again here. He had been infected with SCP-008 in the past, an incurable zombie virus. And he had long since quit the game. Now, there was no doubt. The virus had finished its work. He was no longer himself; his consciousness was lost forever.
"...RT?" Despite knowing the truth, Vale couldn't help calling his name, as if hoping for a response.
But there was none. The zombified RT answered only with a guttural roar before hurling himself toward them.
"F*ck!" Vale cursed, panic seizing him.
The group instinctively turned to flee. Yet almost instantly, from another patch of black slime on the wall, a second figure pulled itself free. Its ghastly silhouette was unmistakable. 'The Old Man'.
"Damn it! He's here too!" Vale shouted, his voice cracking in fury and fear.
He swung his arm wildly, signaling Brit and the others to run, but before they could move, two grotesque arms shot out from the wall, hairless and impossibly long, their massive hands reaching straight for the Scary Old Man. The group recognized the limbs immediately. It was him, SCP-096. The Shy Guy. The nightmare you couldn't look at directly.
"It's over..." The words passed silently through all their minds.
No one had predicted this. The Old Man and the Shy Guy, thought to have been left behind in chaos, had somehow both appeared here. Weren't they supposed to be fighting each other? Had their battle already ended?
Now, with both monsters looming before them, Brit and the others could only stare, a mix of disbelief and dread weighing down their hearts, alongside an overwhelming urge to curse the cruel absurdity of it all.