Ryder limped off the smooth stone bridge, his leg ache fading to a dull throb. The dark opening waited, swallowing the green light from Rigg's glow-rod as they stepped inside.
Behind them was the big, empty room and the sealed stairs; ahead was just more damn tunnel.
This one felt different, though. The stone floor disappeared instantly, replaced by the smooth, cold feel of polished metal. The air changed too, losing the open, echoing quality of the arena and becoming close and tight. A low hum filled the air, similar to the pillar room.
It reminded Ryder uncomfortably of the clean corridor before the arena, the one with the pillar that scanned memories. This felt like more of that same bad dream.
Rigg hurried to keep up, staying close behind Ryder and holding his glow-rod high. The kid still looked pale, his eyes nervously looking around the new place.
The metal corridor went straight ahead, looking the same in every direction. The faint hum changed slightly, becoming uneven. Ryder squinted. Were the walls flickering? Rippling a little, like heat haze, just like before? He couldn't tell for sure in the dim green light.
He stood firmly. The familiar weight of his heavy shield on his left arm and sharp blade in his right hand felt a little comforting. He adjusted his grip.
"Alright," Ryder grumbled loudly in the narrow space. "What fresh hell now?"
Rigg looked at the walls and floor ahead. He looked tense, expecting more enemies after the killer constructs in the arena.
"Sensor readings are going crazy again, hotshot," Betsy said "This section feels... actively malicious."
"Malicious," Ryder repeated slowly. "Good to know the hallway wants me dead. Just like everything else here."
He took a careful step forward, then another. The polished metal floor felt smooth under his boots. Too smooth. Not natural.
Rigg stepped beside him, then gasped and pointed with a shaky finger. "Air's... shimmering!"
Ryder barely saw the shimmer Rigg pointed at before it hit him.
Weight.
Heavy, crushing weight slammed down on him like being buried under falling rocks. His knees buckled right away. The air rushed out of his lungs with a choked sound.
He quickly put his shield down, bracing it against the floor. His muscles screamed as he fought the sudden, impossible gravity. Dust puffed up around his boots. A low metal screech echoed in the corridor, like metal groaning under too much weight. He knew that sound well from collapsing buildings.
He heard Rigg cry out in surprise and pain, but the sound cut off quickly. Ryder risked looking sideways. The kid was pinned flat on the floor, his face pressed against the metal. The glow-rod had rolled away from his outstretched hand.
[WARNING: GRAVITATIONAL ANOMALY DETECTED - EXTREME LOAD]
"Whoa there! Felt that one through ya!" Betsy's voice sounded strained. "Hang tight, Ryder, these spikes seem temporary!"
Temporary felt like forever. Ryder gritted his teeth. Sweat beaded on his forehead. The pressure made the air feel thin. His arms trembled, about to give out. It felt just like that training exercise, a simulated building collapse, pinned down, unable to move…
Then, just as suddenly as it started, the pressure disappeared.
Ryder pushed himself up, gasping for air. His muscles still shook from the effort. He felt dizzy for a second, seeing spots. He shook his head to clear his vision and turned to Rigg.
"You alright there?"
Rigg pushed himself up slowly and picked up his dropped glow-rod. He looked shaken, his eyes wide with fear.
He nodded, his voice rough. "Saw it... just before. The air…" He waved his hand vaguely where the shimmer had been. "It... warped."
"Yeah, well, keep seein' it," Ryder said. He awkwardly clapped the kid's shoulder before moving forward again, holding his blade and shield ready.
He moved slower this time, scanning the walls, floor, and ceiling. This place didn't play fair.
Rigg stayed close. His glow-rod light swept back and forth, looking specifically for that telltale shimmer.
They passed a section of wall that looked just like the rest – smooth, clean, humming metal. But Rigg, watching closely now, saw it. Faint cracks, like spiderwebs, flickered across the surface for just a second.
"Wall! Moving!" Rigg yelled, shoving Ryder forward hard.
Ryder didn't wait or ask why. He reacted instantly to the kid's panic. He threw himself forward into a roll, tucking his shoulder. Just then, a sound like giant gears grinding, followed by a heavy crash, echoed through the corridor.
WHUMP-SLAM!
The wall section they were just beside had slammed inward incredibly fast, filling the space where they had stood a moment before. The sound echoed, loud and final. It sounded disturbingly like the heavy breaching charges from training, but silent until the impact.
Ryder smelled hot metal as the wall pulled back just as quickly, leaving the surface perfectly smooth again, with no sign it had moved.
Ryder finished his roll and got up onto one knee, breathing hard. He looked back at Rigg, who was scrambling back to his feet.
"Good eyes, kid."
[WARNING: KINETIC HAZARD DETECTED]
"Okay, definitely personal now," Betsy added, "That ain't standard dungeon architecture, hon."
"Tell me somethin' I don't know," Ryder muttered, pushing himself all the way up. His shoulder hurt where he'd hit the floor.
He looked at the walls with new suspicion. First, gravity like a building collapse, now slamming walls like a breaching charge. It felt like the place was pulling dangers straight from his memories of training and combat hazards. This place wasn't just dangerous; it was digging through his head for ways to kill him.
They continued forward, even slower now.
"Floor looks weird here!" Rigg would call out. Or, "Air's doing that shimmering thing again!"
Ryder learned to trust the kid's warnings completely, dodging, moving aside, or sometimes just freezing based on what Rigg saw. It felt like walking through a minefield designed by a cruel enemy who knew his personal history.
They came to another stretch of corridor. Rigg stopped suddenly and held up a hand.
"Cold! It's getting cold fast! Look!" He pointed his glow-rod ahead.
Ryder saw it right away. Frost. White frost was quickly spreading across a twenty-foot section of the floor just ahead. It looked like ice crystals spreading like fire. The air suddenly felt freezing cold against his exposed skin with an unnatural, piercing chill.
He saw his breath turn into a thick white cloud in the green light. Underneath the corridor's hum, he thought he heard a faint howling sound, like wind blowing hard on an exposed mountain ridge.
He stopped just before the spreading ice, his boots slipping a little on the suddenly slick metal. The intense, sudden cold hit him hard, bringing back a strong memory.
Mountains. That sudden storm during patrol. The temperature dropped fast, chilling him even through his gear. The wind cut like knives.
[WARNING: THERMAL ANOMALY DETECTED - SUB-ZERO EVENT]
"Flash freeze? Seriously?" Betsy sighed. "This place ain't playin'. Keep movin', soldier."
Ryder didn't need to be told. He carefully walked around the edge of the frozen area, staying far away. The metal floor was wet with condensation even several feet away. Rigg followed, looking around nervously.
Then, for a moment, the corridor seemed to calm down. The air warmed up a little. The humming sound became steady again. It felt almost… peaceful.
That felt dangerous in this place.
Rigg seemed to feel it too. He slowed down and tilted his head. "Something feels... off..." He looked around, searching for shimmers, cracks, or frost. He saw nothing. But the feeling in the air was wrong somehow.
Then the world exploded into noise.
DEAFENING. OVERLAPPING. ROARING.
The sound of heavy machine guns, assault rifles firing, and mortar explosions hit Ryder from all sides at once.
Mixed in with the chaos were the high-pitched whine of incoming artillery and the crackle of broken radio static.
It wasn't just loud; it felt like a physical force pushing against him, vibrating through the floor and his bones. It was an assault. It triggered a phantom memory – the noise of that ambush outside their temporary base, the world turning into noise, smoke, and fear. Pure chaos turned into sound.
"Gah! What the--?!" Ryder flinched hard. He automatically clamped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. He stumbled back, dizzy. The sheer volume made his teeth rattle.
Rigg yelled and dropped his glow-rod again as he threw his hands over his ears, staggering backward. The rod's green light flickered wildly, mirroring the assault.
[WARNING: SONIC ANOMALY DETECTED - SENSORY OVERLOAD]
Betsy's voice somehow cut through the noise, sharp and clear. "Sounds like all hell breaking loose! But there ain't no firefight here! Hold on, it's fading!"
And just like that, it stopped. Silence crashed back in, thick and ringing in his ears. Ryder slowly lowered his hands, shaking his head to clear the ringing. He looked around, anger finally rising above the confusion and fear. He glared at the plain metal walls.
"Okay," he snarled, his voice rough. "Now it's just being an asshole."
Rigg lowered his hands too. He looked pale and wide-eyed as he picked up his flickering glow-rod again. He didn't say anything, just kept looking around, as if he expected the sound to start again.
They moved forward carefully, past the spot where the sound had been loudest. The corridor ahead seemed… stable. Actually stable, for the first time in a long while. No flickers, no shimmers, no sudden cold. Just the quiet, steady hum.
"Hazard pay," Ryder leaned against the wall for a second to catch his breath. He wiped sweat from his face with the back of his glove. His heart was still pounding hard against his ribs like it wanted out. "Definitely need hazard pay for this gig."
He pushed off the wall and nodded at Rigg. The kid looked like he'd seen a ghost.
Rigg still looked shaken by the noise attack. But he kept scanning ahead, maybe even more nervously now, gripping his glow-rod tightly.
"Nice job survivin' the memory lane minefield, boys!" Betsy said, clear relief washing through her voice now that the static was gone. "Passed its little stress test, I reckon. Wonder what prize ya get?"
Ryder didn't feel like he'd won anything except maybe a headache and shaky nerves. As they looked ahead, they saw the prize.
And it didn't look good.
The relatively stable metal corridor began to change drastically. The steady hum grew louder and twisted, modulating into something almost melodic, but horribly distorted. Was that… music? Like a broken radio playing a warped marching tune? Simultaneously, the smooth surfaces around them buckled and shifted, textures flowing like liquid metal before hardening into something new.
Then came the smell. A strange odor drifted towards them, cutting through the metallic tang of the corridor: stale food rations, chemical cleaner, and underneath it all… the sharp, unmistakable stench of burnt gun lubricant.
The tunnel wasn't just a tunnel anymore; it was actively reshaping itself. The walls started to resemble stacked crates and rough bunkers made of dirt and bone. The ceiling flickered with unseen lights that cast oily shadows. It was becoming something disturbingly familiar, yet fundamentally wrong—a corrupted field outpost from hell.
Ryder braced himself, raising his shield slightly, blade ready.
"Aw hell…" He sniffed the air again, a look of deep disgust crossing his face. He knew field bases. He knew the smell of rations and gun cleaner better than his own bed.
Rigg held the glow-rod higher. Its light shone weakly on the shifting, flickering shapes ahead, revealing glimpses of twisted metal lockers and stained tables forming out of the strange material.
Whatever stress test they had passed, the next challenge looked like a nightmare deployment, and the corridor was setting the stage for whatever waited inside this twisted copy of a forward operating base.