"Argh... what the hell?"
Qitian groaned, rubbing his aching head. He blinked against the surreal landscape that stretched around him. Vast, dry wheat-like stalks loomed like skyscrapers. The light was dim and yellowish, filtering through a sky that felt wrong—like a pressure cooker just before the whistle.
[Survive 24 Hours in the Dark Continent.]
The floating, translucent message hovered in his view. A timer ticked down from 24:00:00.
He stumbled backward. "D-Dark Continent? What—no, no no no—what the hell's going on?!"
Rustle. Rustle.
Something was moving.
Panic hijacked his limbs. He sprinted—faster than any average man. His years of training paid off. He pushed off the cracked soil, his movement fluid, almost superhuman.
He made it 23 steps.
CRUNCH.
His body went limp mid-stride.
He turned in shock, gaze trailing downward.
His legs were gone.
A monstrous rodent—no, a writhing, maggot-skinned nightmare shaped like a rat—stood behind him, chewing.
"What—what the hell—I'm gonna die—I'm gonna die—I—"
CRACK. SPLAT.
Darkness.