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Chapter 5 - Chapter 5: The Hunter and the Hunted

The game faded back from black, not to gameplay, but to another cutscene. Zane leaned forward, instantly captivated. The scene was a small, dark storage room, the walls slick with moisture and crawling with a sickly-looking fungus that made his skin prickle.

His former character, the bald doctor, was tying the man in the cap to a wooden post. As he cinched the ropes tight, he spat a venomous stream of warnings.

[I want to leave this goddamn forest!] [Did you hear me!? You little bastard!] [Tell me how to get out, and I will let you go!]

Zane watched, engrossed. This was an in-engine cutscene, rendered in real-time, not a pre-recorded video. It felt immediate, raw, and seamlessly connected to the world he had just been exploring. He was no longer just suspicious of the protagonist he'd been controlling; he was witnessing his monstrous nature firsthand.

The scene shifted. The man in the cap was now slumped in a chair, clearly drugged, his body limp against the ropes. The doctor stood a few feet away, his back to his captive, staring at a fungus-eaten wall as if it held some profound secret. He began to mutter to himself, his voice a low, haunted monotone.

[I occasionally hear her voice.] [She is calling to me.] [Calling me home.]

'She'?, Zane thought, his critic's brain latching onto the detail. A woman? Who is 'she'? His wife? Something else? The game had just deepened its own mystery, and Zane was hooked.

The doctor's reverie broke. He spun around, his face contorted with rage, and screamed at his prisoner.

[Where is the exit!?] [WHERE!?]

The man in the cap struggled against his bonds, his muffled cries lost in the doctor's tirade. The doctor, enraged by the silence, drew back his fist and drove it into the man's face. The screen shook violently, a brutal CRACK echoing through Zane's headphones. The sense of impact was so visceral it was better than most dedicated action games he'd played. He winced as the doctor struck him again, another screen-shaking blow.

"Jesus, this guy is vicious," Zane breathed, a morbid fascination gripping him.

The doctor stood back, panting, his chest heaving. After a moment, with no response from his bloodied captive, he let out a roar of pure frustration and delivered a final, devastating punch. The blow was so forceful it shattered the chair's legs, sending the man in the cap crashing to the floor.

Zane flinched. Holy hell, did he just kill him?

The doctor loomed over the crumpled form on the floor.

[If you don't answer, I'll kill you like a dog!]

He turned, stormed out of the room, and slammed the door. The screen faded to black.

When the light returned, Zane stared, his jaw slack. He was no longer looking through the doctor's eyes. He was the man in the cap, slumped on the floor, the world swimming before him.

"No way," he whispered, a slow grin of pure admiration spreading across his face. "A protagonist switch? In an indie game? Developer, you absolute madman. The narrative complexity, the risk of game-breaking bugs… you've got guts of steel."

He tested the controls. The man in the cap struggled to his feet, a thought appearing on the screen. [That bastard stole my key.]

"So that's the play," Zane murmured, his mind already racing. "I'm the victim now. The goal is to get my key and escape this house of horrors."

He searched the room, his new character's movements sluggish and pained. Following the prompts, he crafted a crude bandage to treat his wounds. The only door was sealed with heavy wooden planks. He needed a tool. After crafting a lockpick, he jimmied open a nearby storage box. Inside was a flashlight and a heavy-duty shovel. A heavy weapon with a wide range, the description read.

"Alright, a weapon," Zane said, feeling a surge of confidence. "And if it's a weapon, then breaking down a door is just… aggressive negotiation, right?" He positioned his new character in front of the reinforced door. "Time for some physical key-mastery!"

He swung the shovel. A deafening BOOM echoed through the house. Zane flinched at the noise. That's way too loud. The doctor has to have heard that. A nervous thought pricked at him, but he pushed it down. He had a weapon. Let him come.

After a few more swings, the wooden planks splintered and broke. The shovel, however, shattered in his hands, its durability spent.

"Are you kidding me?" Zane groaned. "You give me a weapon just to break one door?" He sighed. No time to complain. He pushed the door open.

Standing on the other side, wreathed in shadow, was the doctor.

Zane's heart leaped into his throat. Before he could react, there was a sharp click, and every light in the house went out, plunging the world into absolute darkness. When his eyes adjusted, the doctor was gone. Vanished.

A shiver traced its way down his spine. He fumbled to equip the flashlight, its narrow beam cutting a lonely path through the oppressive blackness. The doctor's disappearance was unnerving, but he filed it away under 'horror game bullshit' and pressed on.

He swept the flashlight beam across the house, a place he now saw with new, terrified eyes. The fungus on the floor seemed thicker, the tangled roots on the walls pulsing like veins. The entire house felt like the inside of some great, dying beast. It was a novel, deeply unsettling experience.

His objective was clear: find the key. But his curiosity had another target. That locked room… the one the doctor was so afraid of.

He made his way to the mysterious door and found a combination lock barring the way. He was examining it when a voice, muffled and desperate, came from within.

[Who's there?] [Please, let me out!]

Zane started. "A person? Not a monster?" He remembered the doctor's words: 'It took a lot of effort to lock it in.' "So it's another victim. That sick bastard." A surge of purpose filled him. "Hang on, buddy!" he said to the screen, his sense of immersion total. "I'll get you out of there!"

He needed the code. His mind immediately went to the radio he'd seen earlier. He made his way to the other room, flashlight beam dancing nervously ahead of him. The radio was there, but it offered no clues. As he was about to turn away, he froze. His gaze fell upon a heavy wooden cabinet by the wall.

"Wait a minute…" he whispered. "That cabinet… it wasn't there before." He remembered vividly that a door had been there, one the doctor had warned himself not to enter. Now it was blocked. Did the doctor move it? What's he hiding?

He pushed the cabinet. It scraped loudly against the floor. As it moved, a blood-curdling female shriek tore through the silence, sharp and close. Zane whipped the flashlight around, his heart pounding, but the room was empty.

"What the hell was that?" His voice was a strained whisper. His forehead was slick with a cold sweat.

Behind the cabinet was the door. He opened it and found a makeshift operating room. In the center was a metal table with leather straps. The sight made his stomach churn. In a corner, he found a generator and, in another storage box, a half-full can of gasoline and a sturdy table leg. A new weapon, he thought. Better than nothing.

He filled the generator and flicked it on. With a groan, the machine sputtered to life, and the lights in the house flickered back on, chasing away the darkness. At the same time, the radio in the other room began to buzz with static.

He walked out of the operating room, intending to find that code, but stopped dead in his tracks. The radio was gone. In its place was a naked, twitching human corpse lying on the floor. Wires snaked from its abdomen into the wall, and the roots on the floor had woven themselves into a nest beneath it. Its head twisted mechanically, its eyes replaced by two radio knobs.

Zane stared in horrified fascination as a distorted noise, like radio static, emanated from its gaping mouth. A description appeared. 'The corpse's eyes were replaced by two knobs. His mouth was opened wide, making a distorted sound almost as indistinguishable as radio noise.'

This is a hallucination, he reasoned, his mind scrambling for a logical explanation. The drug the doctor injected me with. It has to be.

As if summoned by the thought, a harsh, static-laced voice crackled from the corpse-radio. [4892]

Zane flinched. The sound was a mix of human and machine. It was the password. He spun around and ran back to the room, and when he looked again, the corpse was gone. In its place sat the ordinary radio, now repeating the numbers in a hoarse, crackling voice.

[4892… 4892… 4892…]

"It was a hallucination," he breathed, memorizing the number. He raced to the locked room, his fingers flying as he entered the code. With a satisfying click, the lock sprang open. The door was still jammed, but a few brutal swings with the table leg splintered the frame.

[Help me…] the voice from inside pleaded. "I'm coming!" Zane yelled, shoving the door open and stepping into pitch-black darkness. He moved toward the sound of the voice. [Come closer,] the voice whispered, a strange new intonation in its tone.

Zane stopped. A cold dread washed over him. If the door is open, why don't you just walk out? Why are you luring me deeper into the dark?

"I have a very bad feeling about this," he muttered. Cautiously, he took one step forward. Then another.

BOOM!

The world exploded in a shower of blood and a scream of pain. He'd been attacked. His FPS instincts kicked in. He panicked, swinging the table leg wildly in the dark, connecting with something solid. The thing on the other end didn't scream. It laughed. A low, sinister chuckle.

[Hehehe. Now… how do you escape from here?] [Did you think you could do it alone?]

As the words faded, a chorus of whispers erupted in Zane's ears, chaotic and overwhelming.

[Did you hear that?] the attacker rasped from the floor. [She is coming.]

The piercing female shriek from before returned, this time right in his ear. The entire house began to shake violently. Lightbulbs popped, plunging the house back into absolute darkness. The whispers intensified, a maddening flood of auditory pollution that made his head spin.

"What's happening? Who's coming!?" he screamed, stumbling back out of the room. He heard a new sound—the splintering of wood from the main entrance. A sound he recognized. The same sound he had made with the shovel.

Something was breaking in.

A final, deafening CRASH echoed through the house. The front door burst open. An inhuman howl ripped through the night. It was inside.

Zane gripped the table leg, bracing for a fight, his eyes fixed on the gaping darkness of the doorway. He never saw the humanoid shadow that unfolded itself from the floor directly behind him.

He caught the movement in his periphery a second too late. His mind went blank with sheer terror. He yelled something incoherent, forgetting the weapon in his hands, his only instinct to run. He scrambled away, crashing into a wall. Before he could turn, the shadow was on him.

The screen flashed white. A spray of blood. Then, blackness.

For a long time, Zane just sat there, stunned, staring at his reflection in the dark monitor. Slowly, a line of text faded into view.

'Thank you for trying the prologue of the Dark Forest Demo. So stay tuned for the full version! If you have any suggestions, please private message me. The individual developer, Leo Sterling, is very grateful!'

The screen returned to the simple, gloomy main menu. The mournful cello music began to play. Zane was silent for a full minute, his heart still jackhammering in his chest.

Finally, he let out a long, shaky breath and spoke, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"You absolute son of a bitch."

He moved the mouse, a wide, manic grin spreading across his face. He clicked 'Start Game'.

He had a video to make.

PLS SUPPORT ME AND THROW POWERSTONES .

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