'What is that noise?'
Kaelen pulled herself up from her sleep, startled awake by a rhythmic clicking sound. The clouds had thickened into a solid shroud, blotting out what little light remained of the sun. Now, Kaelen struggled to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. It wasn't close… but it wasn't far either.
Peering over the edge of the bell tower, she scanned the darkness as best she could. The night felt unnatural, oppressive, with only one source of illumination: the dim, crimson glow bleeding from the pores of the fungi below.
Click. Click. Click. Click.
There it was again—louder this time.
'Something is out there for sure.'
The rhythm continued, deliberate and steady. As it drew nearer, Kaelen realized it wasn't random noise at all—it was footsteps. Something was walking out there. Still hidden from view, but definitely moving.
And Kaelen wasn't about to give up her vantage point to find out what it was. If it could walk freely in this kind of darkness, then it could see her long before she'd ever see it.
Moments later, the silence shattered. A violent crash tore through the night—splintering wood, collapsing brick. Not from the bell tower, but from one of the nearby houses. Kaelen jolted back, her body slamming against the wall of the tower before she caught herself.
The clicking followed, heavier now, echoing in the same direction as the crash. She held her breath, straining to listen. Whatever it was, it was rummaging inside the house, tearing through its interior. Kaelen's heart was beating faster than ever. She had no armor, no real weapon—just a handful of rusty kitchen knives that could barely cut through the fungal growth, let alone act as an actual weapon. Only one thought echoed in her head:
'Please… whatever the hell you are, just stay away from the bell tower!'
But as if it had heard her plea, the rummaging stopped. The silence that followed was worse than the noise. Then the clicking started again—slow, deliberate.
This time, it wasn't moving away.
It was coming straight toward the bell tower.
'Dammit!'
As the clicking drew closer, Kaelen backed away from the edge of the bell tower, praying not to be spotted. The sound grew louder, echoing off the dead trees, until it stopped—directly at the base of the tower.
Then came the noises.
The first was sickening: the wet, visceral rip of tearing flesh. It came from directly below her, unmistakable and gut-wrenching. A moment later, the sound of chewing followed—not from a single mouth, but from many, all gnashing and working at once.
But it was the next sound that froze her blood.
It was speaking—but not with one voice. Many voices.
Each sounded completely different. Some were children, their high-pitched cries calling for a mother or father. Others were adults, their tones sharp and frantic. A few were elderly, weary and broken. None of them matched, each one speaking of something different, overlapping into a discordant cacophony.
A child begged for help.
A husband bickered with his wife.
An old man muttered to himself.
But none of it was right. The voices were layered with distortion—pitched deeper, words slurred, certain lines repeated again and again as if caught in some endless loop.
Kaelen squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself not to look. Every instinct told her not to peer over the edge. Yet in the end, her curiosity for the unknown outweighed her fear.
The fungal growth at the base of the tower glowed faintly, its pores spilling out enough red light for her to see what was down there.
And what she saw would etch itself into her mind forever.
It was the moment she realized why the night was to be feared in this realm.
The creature was similar to a centipede, with a long, slender body and many legs—around thirty to fifty, judging by a glance. But what stood out most was that the creature was made entirely of human body parts.
Its legs were an amalgamation of human hands, all writhing and stretching in different directions. Its head was formed of multiple human heads fused together, each with a different expression—some in pain, some smiling, some crying. All of their eye sockets were empty, black liquid streaming from them like tears.
The central body was made from human parts as well—arms, legs, heads, anything at all. It looked as if someone had taken a pile of human dolls and melted them into one horrifying, elongated form.
And then the clicking sound made sense. At the end of each leg was a sharp, scythe-like claw, similar to that of a praying mantis. The noise came from those claws striking against the ground with every movement.
The centipede was feeding on the fungal growth clinging to the base of the tower, its claws tearing into the fleshy mass while each of its heads partook in the grotesque feast. The sight alone made Kaelen's stomach twist—it took every ounce of willpower not to vomit.
'Why me!?' she thought bitterly. 'It couldn't have been just a normal centipede, or a spider, or anything normal!?'
She wanted to look away, to shut her eyes and block out the horror—but fear held her gaze steady. The thought of losing sight of the creature was far worse than the nausea rising in her throat. So she kept her eyes locked on it. Sometimes it scuttled off into a nearby house, rummaging through the rotted wood and stone, only to return moments later and feast again at the tower's base.
Kaelen's gaze never wavered. She watched it without pause, without rest, until the long night finally broke.
Morning did not come with a sun cresting the horizon, but with the suffocating clouds easing their grip. The shroud lightened, letting scattered rays of pale light bleed through.
It was then Kaelen witnessed the creature dissolve—its writhing, centipede-like form unraveling into a cloud of dark red mist.
'So it can only manifest at night… great.'
After the creature dissipated, Kaelen finally allowed herself a breath not smothered by fear and disgust. The threat was gone—at least for now—but she knew the centipede would likely return once night fell again. Its existence brought with it a flood of new problems, each more unsettling than the last.
The first was the most obvious: Kaelen was not alone in this realm. She had expected she might encounter others eventually, but she had never imagined her first introduction would be something so grotesque and horrifying.
In the long hours she had spent watching it, Kaelen had gleaned more about the creature than she cared to know. Beyond its repulsive form, it was terrifying in its capabilities. Strong—able to tear effortlessly through solid brick and wood, even if the homes were old and broken. Fast—with dozens of legs carrying it across the ground in fluid, unnatural motion. Durable—its long body wrapped in an armored exoskeleton that glistened faintly beneath the fungi's light. And deadly—its claws were razor-sharp, leaving deep, splintered gashes in the stone of the bell tower itself.
Putting the centipede aside, it raised an even more pressing issue—travel. Especially long distances. For now, she was confident she could make it to the church and back before nightfall, but that was the only landmark close enough. The northern kingdom would take far too long to reach. If there were other monsters like the centipede lurking in the night, then failing to find shelter before darkness fell would mean almost certain death. The night here was all-consuming, and carrying a light source would only make her a beacon—drawing attention she couldn't afford.
There was also still the issue of food and water. By Kaelen's rough estimate, she had maybe a month before starvation and dehydration began to take their toll—two months at most if she ceased all activity. But after what she'd seen last night, staying idle wasn't an option.
With a deep breath, Kaelen began her descent down the bell tower, grimacing at the thought of touching the fungal-coated ladder again. Each rung squelched faintly beneath her grip, the slick texture making her skin crawl. When her boots met the ground, she stepped out into the open air—alert, cautious, and far more on edge than before.
The base of the tower was in worse shape than she remembered. Much of the fleshy fungus had been torn away, shredded and devoured during the centipede's grotesque feast the previous night. What remained was wet, ragged, and scarred—evidence of the monster's hunger. But what caught her attention now were the claw marks.
She'd noticed them before, but only in passing. Now, in the daylight—or what little passed for it here—she could see them clearly. Deep gouges cut through the stone, layered and uneven as though carved by serrated blades. Kaelen approached one of the gashes, extending her hand. Her breath caught in her throat as her entire hand fit easily inside the groove.
'I'm… pretty sure that's sharp enough to cut me in half,' she thought, a cold shiver running down her spine.
Her lips curled into a dry smirk. '…Although, probably not as bad as how I already died. Pretty sure my body in the real world doesn't have a top half anymore.'
Pushing her dark humor aside, Kaelen decided it was best to start making her way toward the church. The sooner she made the trek, the better. Equipped with her compass and the two kitchen knives she'd scavenged, she set out east, hoping to find anything—supplies, clues, or perhaps a better shelter—that the church might hold.
The walk went about as expected: more dead trees, more fleshy fungi, and that same metallic stench of blood heavy in the air. She trudged through the forest for hours, the blood-soaked soil clinging to her boots with every step. The ground had grown wetter than before, the mud slick and deep enough in places that she had to pull herself free to keep moving.
By the time the church finally came into view, her arms and legs ached from the strain. The journey had taken longer than she'd hoped, but not long enough to threaten her return before nightfall. There was still time—just enough—to explore whatever lay inside this house of prayer.
Upon approaching the church, the first thing that struck Kaelen was how isolated it was. Unlike the town, which sat in a wide clearing, the church stood alone—no buildings, no homes, not even the faintest sign of habitation nearby. Yet its architecture matched the town perfectly, down to the weathered stone and darkened wood. Surely the two were connected.
'But if that were true, why build a church so far from civilization?'
Entering was much like before at the bell tower. The doorway was completely overrun with fungal growth, forcing Kaelen to spend several minutes sawing through it with her rusty knife. This time, however, the wooden door itself was still intact. She pushed it open carefully, doing her best not to tear it off its ancient hinges as she had with the others.
The interior of the church was… unsettling. Its structure resembled the old sanctuaries Kaelen had seen in her original world—arched ceilings, long pews, and a central aisle leading toward a raised altar. Yet something about it felt profoundly wrong. There were no symbols, no statues—nothing to suggest what, or who, this place had ever worshipped.
That was, until Kaelen's gaze fell upon the stained glass.
The stained-glass windows lining the walls depicted a strange, repeating pattern: pale, white figures worshipping a figure clad in black—a king.
From left to right, each window told a story.
The first showed the king crowning himself.
The second depicted the worshippers gathered before him, offering gifts—bread, fruit, and wine.
But as Kaelen's eyes followed the windows further right, the images became darker. The offerings grew more grotesque. The next window showed the worshippers bringing dead animals—pigs, cows, chickens. The following one displayed beloved pets: dogs, cats, and birds. Then, their own offspring.
By the second-to-last window, the worshippers offered up their own hearts, blood pouring from open chests as they knelt before their king.
The final window was shattered.
It was clear now that this church was built to worship the king in black.
This realization became even more clear after searching through the ruined interior. Kaelen found several tattered manuscripts scattered across pews and tables, half-consumed by the ever-present fungal growth. She had to cut through strands of the infestation just to pull some free. Each page bore illustrations and markings of the same dark figure she had seen in the stained glass. Unfortunately, none of it was in a language she could understand. The writing was jagged, curling, and foreign—eerily similar to the inscriptions on the copper bell at the bell tower.
Even if she could read it, the parchment was in terrible condition, the ink smudged and faded, the pages brittle and torn. Still, she decided to keep what she could.
As Kaelen moved toward the sanctuary, her eyes caught sight of the altar—and she froze.
The altar stood stark against the rest of the church, its presence wrong in every conceivable way. While the surrounding stone walls were pale and weathered, the altar itself was entirely black, smooth and unblemished as if untouched by time.
The altar bore what appeared to be a mirror, though its surface was completely black, reflecting nothing at all. At the base of the structure was a narrow, coin-shaped slot—as if something could be placed within it.
Yet nothing Kaelen carried seemed to fit, and considering what this church once worshipped, she felt a deep unease at the thought of touching the altar.
One thing was certain: in her search for anything useful to aid her survival, she had come up empty. The last place she checked was the adjoining bell tower—nearly identical to the first, with the same architecture, the same copper bell etched with strange inscriptions. She did not linger. After a brief glance upward, Kaelen turned away and left the church behind.
'This is bad. This is really, really bad,' Kaelen thought as she trudged back toward town.
'I'm stranded. I'm fucking stranded! The weird church had nothing useful, and there isn't another landmark for miles. Traveling long distances is impossible if there are more creatures at night! Is this what hell is? It has to be. If I leave for the kingdom, I'll die during the night. If I stay, I'll eventually die from that centipede thing or something worse. If I don't find food or water, I'll starve. And if I decide to eat the damn mushrooms, I'll probably die from that too!'
Kaelen's frustration boiled over. 'And that's even if I can die again. If I can be killed here… what happens to me then!?'
After hours of dragging herself through the mud, Kaelen finally made it back to town before nightfall. The light was fading, but there was still enough time to scavenge a few more homes. Her efforts yielded little—a small leather bag, worn but intact, just large enough to hold a few essentials. It wasn't much, but it was something.
With her modest find secured, she began the climb up the bell tower once more.
However, it didn't take long for unease to settle in. Before leaving earlier, she had made absolutely sure to close the trapdoor leading to the top of the tower. Now, standing at the base of the ladder, she saw it hanging open.
Kaelen stayed silent, her breath shallow as she slowly drew one of the rusted knives from her bag. She didn't expect it to do much damage—the blade was dull, the metal brittle and ready to snap—but just holding it gave her a faint sense of control.
Carefully, she began her ascent up the tower ladder, each step deliberate, each breath measured to keep quiet. When she finally reached the top, she eased her head up over the edge to peer inside.
What she saw made her freeze.
Lying on the floor was a woman—young, likely around Kaelen's age. Her hair was short, a soft peach-pink streaked with faint red highlights. She wore the same white prison jumpsuit Kaelen herself had once been issued.
But it wasn't the woman's appearance that stunned Kaelen most.
It was the fact that she was simply... sleeping.
Peacefully, as though the horrors of this place did not exist at all.