Sylas reopened the oak door and stepped back into the jaundiced expanse of Level 0.
"Self-repairing?"
He stared at the section of the wall he had demolished earlier. The jagged gap had vanished, replaced by pristine, sickly-yellow wallpaper as if his pickaxe had never touched it.
"Doesn't this mean infinite resources?"
A cold, ambitious light flickered in his eyes. If the Backrooms were truly infinite in scale and possessed the ability to regenerate their structure, it wasn't a prison—it was a limitless quarry. For a man who viewed worlds as resource nodes, this was the ultimate jackpot.
The damp carpet still exhaled its putrid, wet-dog odor.
"It would be great if this space could refresh its loot as well as its walls," Sylas muttered.
In the grand hierarchy of the Backrooms, Level 0 was the Novice Village. It was designed to break the spirit through monotony and isolation rather than through direct violence. Entities were rare here, almost extinct. However, the level's primary defense was its "Isolation Property"—a spatial anomaly that prevented human contact and rendered all paths one-way. There was no returning the way you came; the geometry simply wouldn't allow it.
Sylas ran a hand along the wallpaper, his fingers searching for a seam in reality. "I remember the logs... if you no-clip through the right wall, you hit Level 1."
He wasn't a lore expert, but he had skimmed enough "creepypasta" archives to know the basics. He kept one hand on the wall and began to walk, counting his paces, waiting for his body to catch on a "glitchy" block.
"11,121... 11,122... 11,123..."
Suddenly, a pitch-black, elongated arm erupted from the wallpaper and clamped onto his wrist. Before he could react, an immense, skeletal force yanked him forward, dragging him into the solid wall.
- 13
Red numbers flashed in his peripheral vision. His own health bar took a sudden, jarring hit.
"Damn it... I forgot about the Dullahan."
The "Dullahan" was a notorious trickster of Level 0. It was a creature of pure malice that targeted those with waning sanity. It usually stayed hidden within the walls, reaching through the "seams" to snatch unsuspecting Wanderers and drag them into its private larder.
By the time Sylas was pulled into the adjacent room, a Stone Sword had already manifested in his hand.
The Dullahan looked more like a traditional Enderman than the Bacteria had. It was a tall, gray, humanoid figure with a fragile, skeletal frame and no facial features. Most notably, its arms were unnaturally long, ending in wicked, grasping fingers.
"You little punk," Sylas hissed, his voice dropping into a dangerous register. "You've picked a very bad day to go fishing."
He brought the stone blade down with a vicious, overhead strike.
CRUNCH.
The Dullahan's arm shattered like dry porcelain under the weight of the blocky sword. The creature didn't scream—it didn't have a mouth—but its grip vanished instantly. Despite the devastating injury, the entity didn't stay to fight. It turned and bolted with an awkward, flailing gait, vanishing into the maze before Sylas could deliver a second blow.
"They say this thing only hunts those with low SAN. Has my sanity really dropped that far?"
Sylas checked himself. He saw no illusions, heard no whispers, and felt no physical degradation. His "Idealistic Digitization" provided a unique shield—he could toggle between a data-based existence and a physical form, allowing him to interact with the world's physics while remaining somewhat detached from its psychological horrors.
Still, encountering both a Bacteria and a Dullahan in Level 0 was like winning a very dark lottery.
He looked at his remaining health—7 points. "Rotten luck," he cursed. "Next time I see that thing, I'm breaking its legs first."
He wasn't truly worried about the damage. On his first day in this world, he had discovered the Respawn function after an unfortunate fall into the void. Death was merely a setback, though the psychological toll of "re-materializing" was a price he didn't care to pay often.
He continued his exploration. The buzzing of the fluorescent lights grew louder, vibrating in his teeth. As he rounded a corner, an ordinary brown wooden door appeared.
Sylas stopped. This wasn't a pixelated Minecraft door; it was a real, heavy, office-style door.
"Is my SAN finally at rock bottom?" he wondered.
He gripped his Stone Axe and watched the door intently. In the Backrooms, "Observation Phenomena" meant that things existed only as long as you looked at them. If he blinked, the door might disappear into the yellow mist. He lunged forward and grabbed the metal doorknob. It was cold and solid.
"Not an illusion... This must be the Manila Room."
The Manila Room was a rare, stable pocket within Level 0. Named for its unique beige "Manila paper" wallpaper, it was a sanctuary where the Level's isolation effect was nullified. It was one of the few places where Wanderers could actually meet.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was small, roughly the same size as his misty Overworld. It was simply furnished: a wooden table, an ordinary office chair, and a fluorescent light that emitted a slightly more "natural" glow, though the hum remained.
"No other Wanderers? Figures. Not many people are 'lucky' enough to glitch into this hellhole."
Sylas walked to the table. Several folders embossed with the M.E.G. (Major Explorer Group) emblem lay scattered across the surface. He flipped through them—field guides on Entities, maps of known Levels, and survival tips.
He tossed them back with a disdainful snort. "Surface-level data. Nothing I don't already know."
These files were left by M.E.G. scouts to aid new arrivals, but the room itself was anomalous; it would occasionally "refresh" its contents, meaning the M.E.G. had to constantly resupply the guides.
Sylas scanned the walls. He wasn't looking for reading material; he was looking for a way out. Finally, he spotted it—a section of Manila wallpaper that glowed with an unnatural, oversaturated brightness.
"Found it. A glitch."
He approached the glowing patch and reached out. A sudden, violent suction force caught him. His body was pulled through the wall, and the next moment, the dry air of Level 0 was gone.
He fell, landing with a heavy splash in a puddle of stagnant, lukewarm water.