The mischievous gamer God

Weiss woke up on the cold, damp floor of a filthy cell, surrounded by darkness.

The air was heavy with the stench of mold, rust, and something far less pleasant—something rotting. The distant sound of dripping water echoed through the corridor beyond, and a faint, almost mechanical humming underscored the silence.

Grimacing, Weiss pushed herself to her feet and dusted herself off, only to pause when she noticed her usual white combat dress had been replaced.

Instead, she now wore black tactical pants tucked into worn, brown leather boots, a red button-up shirt, and a scarlet jacket with a frayed hem. She wrinkled her nose.

"Not bad," she muttered, tugging at the sleeves with mild distaste, "but not really my style."

Patting herself down, she searched for a familiar weight—her Myrtenaster was nowhere to be found.

"He could've at least given me a weapon," she sighed, clearly annoyed, before noticing the strange bracelet strapped securely around her wrist. It blinked with small lights, monitoring her vitals in real time.

"At least the key gave me information on where I am and what's going on," she said, her expression sharpening with determination. "Now... I just need to find Blake."

Weiss slipped out of the cell quietly, her boots making faint clicks on the grimy, concrete floor as she crept down the dim, decaying corridor. The walls were cracked and mold-stained, lined with rusted bars and old, dried blood. Flickering lights overhead buzzed weakly, leaving much of the path in deep shadow. A low, metallic groan echoed through the structure, as if the building itself was breathing.

Every few steps, she paused, listening intently—her training kicking in.

Eventually, she reached a partially lit holding area. A flickering overhead light revealed a familiar figure inside one of the cells, crouched near the door.

Blake.

She was tugging at the rusted bars, trying to force them apart. Her outfit had changed as well—she now wore a fitted black jacket with a purple-lined hood, a soft grey t-shirt beneath it, dark denim shorts over black leggings, and matching black boots. Her cat ears twitched as she heard Weiss approach.

"Well," Weiss said with dry amusement, her lips curling into a small smirk, "finding you was easy. Now how do I get you out?"

Blake let go of the bars with a sigh, brushing her bangs back. "I don't know... is there a key or something nearby?"

Before either of them could move, a harsh buzzing sound echoed down the hallway—and with a loud clang, the cell door suddenly flew open on its own.

Blake stepped back instinctively, eyes narrowing. "Okay... that's weird."

Then she pointed to the far corner of the room, where a small, red-lit camera was whirring faintly.

"Looks like someone's watching us."

Weiss followed her gaze and scowled. "Of course they are." Her voice was cold and clipped. "Come on—let's look for a way out before whoever's behind that camera decides to drop in."

"Yeah, sounds good," Blake agreed, slipping out of the cell beside her.

They moved through the winding, claustrophobic hallways of the prison together, the damp air clinging to their skin. Cracked tiles and bloodstains lined the floor, and their path was lit only by the occasional flickering ceiling light and the faint red glow of broken emergency signs.

As they walked, Blake glanced over at her teammate. "I'm surprised you're holding up so well, Weiss. I figured you'd be freaking out by now."

Weiss scoffed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Please. We fight monsters on a daily basis. I can handle some dark and creepy corridors." She paused, wrinkling her nose again. "It's the dirt and the smell that's bothering me."

Blake gave a small nod of understanding. Her expression was serious, her eyes scanning every shadow. "Agreed. I can't stand the smell either..." She hesitated, ears twitching. "Something—or someone—definitely died here."

They walked up what looked like a track for a minecart spiraling upwards inside a massive, vertical shaft. Cracked stone walls loomed around them, lined with rusted rails and dangling chains that clinked faintly in the stagnant air. As they carefully made their way up the narrow ledge, Blake glanced down into the abyss below and smirked.

"Hey Weiss," she said teasingly, her tone light despite the grim surroundings, "don't look down."

Weiss rolled her eyes with a sharp exhale through her nose. "Haha. Good to see you, Yang. Have you seen Blake around?" she replied sarcastically, shimmying carefully along the fragile walkway.

Blake chuckled softly. "Well, sorry for trying to lighten the mood. Without Yang or Ruby here, someone has to."

Weiss let out a quiet breath and nodded. "I agree. It is a bit strange not having them around, but we'll be fine. We've got this."

"Yeah, we do," Blake said with calm confidence.

Their feet finally touched solid ground again, the relief in their posture visible as they regrouped. They moved through a short hallway, the smell of rot stronger here, and ascended a creaking flight of stairs. As they did, a sudden, terrified scream of a girl echoed through the halls.

They quickened their pace immediately.

The next corridor was nearly painted in blood. The dim red glow of a flickering emergency light gave the viscera a surreal, oily sheen.

Blake frowned deeply. "That's not a good sign."

They looked down the right hallway and spotted a small flashlight and a standard-issue combat knife resting near a blood-smeared wall.

Blake knelt and picked up the knife, testing its balance with a practiced flick of her wrist. "I'll take this," she said, her voice steady. "I've got more experience with close-range weapons."

Weiss picked up the flashlight, her nose wrinkling at the crusted blood on the grip. "Better than nothing, I guess," she muttered.

Blake scanned their surroundings. "This is a dead end. Let's try that room."

Weiss opened a nearby rusted door with effort. Inside was a grim chamber with a large surgical table at its center—stained with ancient rust and fresh blood. A decaying body lay beneath a filthy sheet, pierced by several meat hooks suspended from the ceiling. The stench was overwhelming.

Weiss froze, her body going stiff. Her voice was hollow when she spoke. "Is it too late to quit?"

Blake stepped forward quickly and took her hand, tugging gently. "Come on," she said, her tone soft but firm. "We're only just getting started."

Weiss exhaled, her voice flat. "Yay…"

Blake noticed a brittle-looking glass pane dividing the room and stepped up to it. Without hesitation, she raised the knife's handle and smashed through it with a sharp crack. They climbed through the broken window and made their way back into the suffocating dark of the corridors, the flashlight casting long, twitching shadows on the mold-caked walls.

Soon they were stopped by a stack of junk and a nearly folded-in-half cabinet blocking their path.

Blake stepped forward, muscles tensing as she grabbed hold of the cabinet and started pulling. "All right, Weiss—go through."

Weiss crouched and crawled through the opening. Once on the other side, she braced the cabinet from her end. "Your turn."

Blake followed, wriggling through with practiced grace. They continued down the hallway until they encountered another heavy cabinet.

Together they began to push, muscles straining.

Suddenly, Blake's hand shot out and grabbed Weiss by the arm, yanking her backward. She took a few steps back herself just as one of the Afflicted—a grotesque, mutated feral man—came crashing down onto the cabinet with a feral shriek.

Without pause, Blake lunged forward, eyes sharp. She drove the knife into the side of the creature's skull with precise force. It gave one last twitch and slumped lifelessly to the floor.

Weiss grimaced, her face pale. "I knew we'd face monsters, but I didn't think they'd be so gross-looking… or humanoid." She placed a hand on the wall to steady herself. "I think I need a second."

Blake patted her gently on the back, her expression sympathetic. "It's okay. If it makes you feel any better… that was actually my first time killing anything humanoid."

Weiss looked at her, slightly wide-eyed. "How are you okay, then?"

Blake smiled thinly, her eyes betraying the tension behind her calm. "Oh, I'm not. I'm having an internal freak-out—but we can't both be breaking down here."

Weiss took a slow, shaky breath and nodded. "Okay. I'm good. Let's go."

They pushed the shelf aside and pressed forward into the eerie silence of the decaying prison. The walls seemed to pulse with unseen movement, and soon enough they heard ragged breathing and desperate footsteps.

More of the Afflicted were chasing a woman down the corridor.

Blake's expression hardened. "Hurry, Weiss! She's going to die!"

"I'm moving as quick as I can!" Weiss shouted, picking up speed.

They raced down the bloodstained halls. A large shutter door blocked their path, but they didn't hesitate. Together they threw their weight against it, forcing it open with a loud screech.

When they got through, it was too late. The woman lay dying on the floor, blood pooling around her.

They knelt beside her, but her final breath escaped before they could do anything.

Blake lowered her head and closed the woman's eyes. "Damn. We didn't make it." She stood, a deep frown etched into her features. "I'm sorry we can't do more for you… but we have to keep moving."

After a solemn moment, Weiss glanced at a nearby door and pointed. "Let's try that one."

Blake approached and tried the handle, only to find it unyielding. "Of course it's locked. Why wouldn't it be?" she muttered bitterly.

They turned back and headed down the adjacent hallway and a set of creaking stairs. At the base, they spotted a body hanging upside down by its feet, suspended by old shackles.

Weiss pointed. "Blake, look—it has a set of keys!"

Blake reached for them carefully.

Just as her fingers brushed the metal, a sharp buzz echoed through the air. The shackles snapped open with a jolt, and the body crashed to the ground with a sickening thud.

Blake flinched, then growled in frustration. Her eyes flicked to a small camera in the corner of the ceiling, red light blinking mockingly.

With one fluid, furious motion, she pulled out her knife and flung it, blade-first, into the lens. It shattered in a burst of sparks.

She narrowed her eyes and snarled. "I don't know if you can hear me, but when I find you, I'll repeat that action—with your face." She pulled her knife from the destroyed camera, breathing hard. "But I'll settle for the camera for now."

She turned to Weiss, and together they continued down the dark, rotting corridor, the flicker of the flashlight dancing over cracked tiles and shadowed corners.

As they continued walking through the dimly lit corridor, the heavy silence was broken only by the distant echo of dripping water and the low groan of rusted metal. They passed a room where they saw what they could only assume were carcasses inside bags, all suspended from the ceiling by meat hooks. The walls were stained, and the flickering light above cast eerie shadows across the carnage.

Weiss wrinkled her nose and muttered with a tight frown, "Oh... well, that's lovely."

They tried the door to that room, only to find it locked.

Blake exhaled sharply through her nose and muttered with irritation, "Is every door going to be locked? Seriously?"

They pressed on, boots clinking faintly on cracked tiles, and soon came across what looked like an abandoned medical ward. The metallic tang of blood hung heavy in the air, mixing with the sour stench of rot and old antiseptic. Rusted IV stands and overturned gurneys lay scattered about. After carefully making their way through the room, they exited through a rust-covered door on the other side, passing several disgusting-looking hospital sinks, caked in dried blood and grime.

Moving through a doorway, they found a ladder bolted to the walkway, descending into darkness.

After climbing down to the bottom floor, they found the corpse slumped awkwardly against the wall. Its uniform was tattered, and its face had long since decomposed into something unrecognizable. Blake knelt beside it and began searching, methodically checking each pocket and seam, but found nothing.

"Where the hell did they go...?" she muttered, frustration seeping into her voice.

Sweeping her flashlight across the room, she spotted something glinting.

"There," she said, squinting. "Up there."

The keys had gotten snagged on a jagged piece of metal protruding from the wall, too high to reach.

Blake narrowed her eyes and groaned, "Great. How the hell are we supposed to get those?"

As she stood to think, she checked the corpse again—and this time found a handgun still holstered to the man's belt, surprisingly intact. She raised an eyebrow and looked at Weiss.

"You want it? it's only fair—I took the last weapon."

Weiss gave her a quick shake of the head and said, "No, you take it. Your eyesight's better than mine, and you can see in the dark. You'll notice danger before I do."

Blake nodded, understanding. "That's a good point."

She unbuckled the man's belt and strapped it on over her hips. After inspecting the belt, she found two spare clips alongside the handgun—plus the one in the gun made three total. Each clip had nine bullets.

"Alright," she said, letting out a breath. "We went from defenseless... to having barely a chance... to having a fighting chance."

She aimed carefully and fired. The keys clattered to the floor, and she stooped to pick them up—but just as her fingers brushed the metal, both doors on either side of the room burst open with a metallic bang, and several of the Afflicted poured in, their grotesque, inhuman faces contorted in snarls.

"Time to go!" Weiss shouted, voice tight with panic.

They sprinted back toward the ladder, ducking and dodging swipes from the savage, mutated figures. One lunged and scraped Blake's jacket, but she twisted away and shoved it back with her shoulder.

As they reached the ladder, more Afflicted burst from previously locked cells behind them, screeching in rage.

Weiss dropped and slid beneath one of their legs, then rolled back to her feet, panting but unscathed.

Blake, more agile, leapt toward the wall, planted a foot against it, and launched herself off in a spinning somersault, flipping over one of the creatures and landing with a catlike grace. Her eyes narrowed with focused intensity as she caught up to Weiss.

"Weiss!" she called, tossing the keys forward.

Weiss snatched them out of the air mid-stride with practiced reflexes. As they reached the locked door, she immediately began trying each key, hands fumbling slightly from adrenaline.

Behind her, Blake stood firm, planting her feet and raising the handgun, her arms steady despite the tremble in her gut. Her eyes never left the Afflicted swarming toward them, closer with each second.

Before Blake had to fire a shot, Weiss found the right key with a click of success.

"Got it!"

They rushed through the door, slammed it behind them, and quickly secured it. Both girls stood there for a moment, panting heavily, adrenaline still coursing through their veins as they listened to the pounding fists on the other side.

After they caught their breath, Weiss and Blake continued cautiously down the dim, oppressive corridor. The flickering lights above buzzed faintly, casting long, shifting shadows along the cracked concrete walls. As they turned the corner, Weiss froze.

There, sprawled facedown on the grime-caked floor, was a corpse—its skin pale and rotted, fingers still tightly clutching a double-barrel shotgun. Weiss stepped forward, eyes narrowed, and pried the weapon from the body's grip with a firm tug. A low creak echoed through the hall as she flipped the corpse over. Around its waist was a weathered gun belt.

Weiss wrinkled her nose at the stench but unclasped the belt and fastened it around herself with practiced efficiency. On the right side was an empty holster for a handgun and two pouches—both unfortunately empty. But on the left side, her eyes lit up slightly.

"Five shells per pouch," she murmured, inspecting them. "That's ten... plus two in the chamber." She looked up and said aloud, "Alright. Now we're both armed."

Blake gave a small smirk. "And just like that, our chances go up again."

They moved on, boots echoing quietly in the silence. At the end of the hall, they entered a small storage room cluttered with broken crates, rusted filing cabinets, and a desk with peeling paint. Resting atop the desk was a heavy, rust-stained crowbar. Blake picked it up, tested the weight, then handed it to Weiss.

"Here. Now you've got a melee weapon."

Weiss took it with a skeptical glance. She gave it a few swings through the air, the motion swift and precise despite her distaste. "It's not as elegant as Myrtenaster, but it'll do—especially when I need to conserve ammo," she said, lips tight in reluctant acceptance.

On the far side of the room, they found the exit—but it was sealed shut with thick, splintered wooden boards. Weiss let out an exasperated sigh and looked toward Blake, who raised her hands innocently.

"Don't look at me," Blake said flatly. "I'm not the one holding the crowbar."

Weiss groaned quietly, rolled her eyes, and moved to the door. With a grunt of effort, she wedged the crowbar beneath one of the boards and began prying them free. One by one, the barriers gave way with loud cracks and groans of wood and nails.

Once the doorway was clear, they stepped through into another dim hallway. The air here was even heavier, and the hum of the overhead lights was barely audible over the oppressive silence. Then, up ahead, they saw something.

A little girl in a white dress stood at the end of the corridor. Her face was obscured, her form barely illuminated. Before either of them could react, she turned and bolted around the corner.

Weiss's eyes widened. "Quick! We can't leave her alone!"

Without hesitation, the two took off down the corridor, their footsteps pounding against the concrete floor. But when they rounded the corner, the girl was nowhere to be seen.

"Shit," Blake muttered, frustrated. "We lost her… I hope she'll be alright."

Weiss frowned, scanning the empty space. "This was originally a game, right? I'm sure she's probably an essential character. We'll see her again later."

Blake gave her a sideways glance and nodded slowly. "You're probably right."

Eventually, they reached a heavy metal shutter door. Without speaking, they both knelt, gripped the rusted bottom edge, and—with a collective heave—forced it upward with a groaning screech of metal.

They stepped through onto a cold cement floor and were met by a long staircase climbing upward. A faint glow of light bled from the top.

Hearts pounding with a renewed flicker of hope, they climbed. But that hope quickly crumbled.

At the top of the stairs, the corridor opened up into a massive prison block. The ceiling stretched high above them, shadows lurking in every corner. Rows of cells lined both sides, and a second level loomed above with even more cells, their iron bars twisted and rusted, stained by time and worse.

Blake's shoulders slumped, and she sighed, voice heavy with sarcasm and dread. "Well… that's fantastic. Let's go see what fresh hell this is."

With weapons in hand and nerves steeled, the two of them moved forward into the unknown.