His memories of the game were gone.

Every bit of it had been torn away from him: was this why Y/n had been such a daze lately?

Was this why Y/n had found it so hard to gather his thoughts from jumbled, scattered bits, struggling so hard just to line up a single, coherent thought?

All along this had been the cause of it. All along Anton had been drugging him, bit by bit, with those flowers.

Y/n did not open his eyes to Anton's room. He was back to the place where knockout had taken place, confused, weary, and alone. Only darkness accompanied him.

It was like a nightmare had been wrapped around his sleepless flesh, like black crescents were left to hang dry on his eyes.

Y/n was tired. So, so tired of dealing with the priest, putting up with him, and pretending, pretending, pretending. All his life he had already been masquerading around like some masked puppet in a play, and the game had torn whatever person he was before into...this.

"The flower scent," Y/n said listlessly to no one, to nothing, "how could I have not known?"

Lucas had been into Anton's house before. That child had also been drugged. And whether Y/n liked it or not, he was beginning to see how the toxicity that managed to leak through the cracks affected him: he was still ever affectionate with him, the hugs still lingered, but there was some sort of madness to his eyes. The way Lucas looked at others; it was visceral anger: when people tainted Y/n, dismissed him, Lucas was growing aware of the situation he was in.

Y/n had known it would have been impossible to keep the child innocent and without blemish forever. He could only have hoped to have stalled it for as long as he could. Because for a child to be placed in such a situation, such maddening circumstances, it was bound to warp them. Bound to change them.

It was inevitable, always.

I...need Anton, Y/n thought.

I need him.

I need—

"It's that fucking drug," Y/n cursed under his breath, "meddling with my thoughts and making me..."

It was making him spiral. How ironic, really, that it fitted the whole name of the game. What was the game's purpose, truly? Was it—

[ Welcome, player. ]

The same blue screen that had materialized before out of thin air appeared once again. Y/n stumbled back, blinking his eyes in confusion. There was no system notification that had popped up, and in fact, from the time where he had supposedly obtained the oracle, he had yet to get anything else...

[ Data about the oracle has been acquired ]

The last time, the oracle had been an utter sham. All of the information had been utterly useless and had basically parroted what Anton had said before. Ur no— this was the promise of something bigger, something better. If he had been dragged into such a remote place, dragged basically out of the game to darkness, then that clearly meant that it would work. Y/n would find a way out.

[ YES/NO. Would you like to proceed? ]

"Yes," Y/n breathed out, "yes, yes, yes—"

A headache spiked up again. That fucking drug...

Y/n supposed it was morning after his swirling, horrible night with Anton. But perhaps time had no end here: perhaps time was nothing here. He did not know what this room was, or what it meant, but it was nothing.

Emptiness and hollowness. No human, no matter—only air, Y/n had woken with a migraine and a burning, restive need to do something—anything—preferably quiet, restful. Flashes of the evening popped like firecrackers, while shards of conversation with Anton lacerated him. If this information could help, then yes, that would be best. But if it didn't...

Y/n stomach heaved, each abdominal convulsion resonated in his head, and the apparitional railroad spike drove deeper into the space behind his left eye. He wanted to pull his brain out through his eye sockets with a buttonhook.

Y/n wanted to be left with himself, to marinate with his unsettling, buzzing thoughts, to allow himself to calm down and for the drug to slowly and methodically ooze out of his body.

Time was the best medicine, some said, and Y/n did not know if he agreed.

Did that mean he perhaps had the potential to be stronger, had the potential to have buried his feelings better and to have plastered a brighter smile on his face, if not for the fact that the drug had poisoned his own mind against him, had turned him to his worst enemy, the worst enemy of humankind?

[ Proceeding... ]

There was nothing. Nothing at all. Pure dread rose in Y/n when he realized that perhaps he had been scammed again, and that the system was doing nothing but making a mockery out of his cruel, useless fate—

[ The Oracle is not real. It is made up, Y/n L/n. The game you are in is made solely for the purpose of [redacted]. ]

Y/n immediately paused.

What? Was this even blabbering on about? What?

No, no, it couldn't be. The migraine still held him in its gloomy embrace. The drug was still meddling in his head, turning it into some horrid feeling, horrible misunderstanding. Y/n had read it wrong. He shook his head, and he counted sheep. He counted breaths. He counted back from 100.

The pain in his head burned lethal umber and gold, shaped like a dagger and sharp as betrayal. Y/n gave it flesh without worrying, he flayed it, inch by inch, glorious and beautiful. It was easier to submit to the pain, then to be aware of it and let it simmer down. He had learnt to soak it, drink it in...

The pain burst forth, like a poisonous flower learning how to bloom.

Y/n started to smile. Maybe this was a hallucination. Hallucinations were easy to sink into, but difficult to distinguish from real life.

People said dreams were a beautiful, beautiful thing. They hardly spoke about nightmares, and Y/n was currently living in one. Seconds blurred into minutes. The screen looked back at him, almost as if it was a merciless taunt, an unwavering trigger.

"What do you mean not real? I'm suffering from it. I'm dying. I'm decaying, my head is broken, my limbs are flaying. What more do you want?" Y/n stumbled backwards, a crazed smile on his face, "why? Do you wish to see me suffer more than I already have? Do you wish to slink the dagger in further than you already have?"

[ Its purpose was to bring someone from another world solely for fulfilling the made up oracle. Something that [redacted] created for the sake of his own sanity. To live without it, he would crumble. He is the creator, the messiah. He is broken, and not whole. ]

"Who?" Y/n screamed, "who and what are you talking about? Of course the game is real. It was created by—by—by some developer in the real world, it was..."

The screen flickered.

[ You are not permitted to access that information. ]

"Damn it," Y/n hissed, "not permitted? Who even—"

.

.

.

[ You are not permitted to access that information. ]
[ You are not permitted to access that information. ]
[ You are not permitted to access that information. ]
[ You are not permitted to access that information. ]
[ You are not permitted to access that information. ]
[ You are not permitted to access that information. ]
[ You are not permitted to access that information. ]
[ You are not permitted to access that information. ]
[ You are not permitted to access that information. ]
[ You are not permitted to access that information. ]
[ You are not permitted to access that information. ]
[ You are not permitted to access that information. ]
.

.

.

What the hell?

The notifications in front of Y/n's face started to pop up like crazy, and Y/n had to close his eyes.

"Who are you even?" His voice cracked, "who...are you?"

The screen was silent.

It blinked once, then twice, before fading into nothing. Unlike what Y/n had expected, nothing else happened. There was no dizziness that overcame his senses, he did not return to where he was.

Y/n was here.

Alone.

Stuck.

Trapped.

It took exactly five minutes and forty three seconds to realize that he was still here. That he was still trapped in whatever realm this was.

Tick.

Tock.

.

.

.

The pain in his head was starting to pulsate. The oppressing silence was beginning to feel like a blanket over his head, suffocating him, making him sweat, making him desperate.

"No, no, no," Y/n muttered, "this isn't happening. I'm not stuck here, the system doesn't have a stupid glitch...there has to be a way out," He laughed, "there..."

The room was devoid of any discernible features, and stretched endlessly in all directions. His surroundings seemed to warp—or was Y/n just going crazy?—the shadows danced in erratic, messy patterns, and an eerie chill settled over him. Desperation clawed at Y/n's heart as he looked around; his words hanging in the air loosely. It seemed like the screen had somewhat abandoned him. Where was this place, actually? Was it a void mocking his very existence? It showed no sign of entry or exit—it was nothingness.

There was a sound.

A soft, distant sound.

It was faint, tinkling.

"...What...?" Y/n perked up as he strained to discern the source, "that does sound oddly familiar."

Wait.

Wait! This was the melody that was played when one entered Spiraling into the Abyss! Hope flared in his heart, Y/n quickly pressed forward, and even the surroundings shifted. Colors bled into existence, shapes took form.

Home.

This was—

Oh, god. Had he returned? Has he somehow returned? What? This was the neighborhood he lived in!

Y/n looked around, swallowing.

Wait.

Wait.

Wait—

No.

This wasn't home.

It couldn't be home. There was some sick smell in the air, of rotting flesh and burning bones. His neighborhood that he lived in looked different. Strangely...different. There was no human in sight, no one.

Y/n stared.

"What is this?" He finally said aloud, "where am I?"

The air hung heavy with the odor—an amalgamation of decay, the sick smell of smoldering remnants. The colors were off, muted in a sickly pallor.

"This doesn't feel real." Y/n murmured softly, "this..."

Dilapidated structures that mimicked the familiar outlines of houses. Windows that were shattered and doors that were now ajar. Everything had been withered into twisted, skeletal remains.

Where the hell was he—

.

.

.

—

.

.

.

"You're awake."

Y/n stared at Anton.

"Where am I?"

"My home. I'm afraid you passed from exhaustion. Your duties must have taken a toll on you."

"No," Y/n stumbled over his words, "I was at my house. It was all broken, all—am I dreaming right now?"

Anton was obviously amused. "What are you even talking about?"

"No," Y/n shook his head wildly, "no. You poisoned me. You used that fucking flower, that—"

"Flower?" Anton echoed softly, "you mean the lilies? Those help in relaxation. Are you alright, Y/n?"

"Don't you dare ask me that question," Y/n hissed, "you're acting all innocent right now, but you—you..."

"Evidently, you seem to be distressed."

"Anyone would be after seeing their whole house gone!" Y/n yelled, "can you wipe off that smile on your face and just shut up?"

Anton quite obviously ignored that remark as he went on talking. "You dreamt of your home? Gone?"

Was he supposed to tell the priest that? Y/n blamed it all on the flower for messing with his head. And additionally, was the priest trying to manipulate him now? And there was a chance that Anton was the supposed creator of the oracle who relied on it for his sanity. The system's words had been infuriatingly vague and Y/n had only managed to capture bits and pieces on his state of mind.

Y/n looked away, pressing his lips against each other.

"So you did. How interesting," Anton tilted his head. "I've always wondered what kind of home you came from."

Y/n didn't reply.

"For God speaks in one way, and in two, though man does not perceive it. In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falls on men, while they slumber on their beds, then he opens the ears of men and terrifies them with warnings, that he may turn man aside from his deed and conceal pride from a man; he keeps back his soul from the pit, his life from perishing by the sword. Job 33:14-18 (ESV). Isn't it timely? That he would issue such a warning to you through your dreams; your vision about your home?"

"Are you trying to imply that it's a prophecy for me not to return home?" Y/n gritted his teeth.

"I have the impression you are forgetting about our deal. Ever since you awoke, you have been rather rude, don't you think, Y/n?"

Y/n sobered.

Lucas. Right. Think about Lucas.

"But yes," Anton smiled at Y/n, seeing how quiet he now was, how obedient—"you are right."

"You're right." Y/n repeated tonelessly. "You really think that—"

Be obedient.

"Fine." Y/n lied quietly. "Fine."

"Hmm. Lies aren't good too, my dear."

This priest—!

"Whatever it is, this is where you stay now. Do you really wish to return to that hellscape you call home? Was it destroyed, spoiled, gone? God shows us the consequences. The future. Do you really want to return to such a place? Think, Y/n."

The (h/c)-haired male had thought about it before, as a matter of fact. He had wondered that if he did escape, what would the state of his world be? And if it was anything like the stupid landscape he had seen in that odd, odd void; then where was he better off? Here, or—

I'm getting swayed by him, Y/n trembled, why am I even considering his words? When did I even start to be so—

The scent of the flower tickled his nostrils, and Y/n closed his eyes, feeling his head throb once more.

Anton looked at the screen before his own eyes.

[ Welcome, administrator. You have successfully altered a person's dream. ]

Oh. This was easy, Anton looked at Y/n, this was so easy.

.

.

unedited. i guess people will be confused by this chapter so ill explain it here: (sorry if it was off, i was in a weird headspace when i wrote this)

in this chapter, y/n learns the game was all made up—its purpose was to bring someone from another world solely for fulfilling the made up oracle. Those who played it, all few million of those in the world, were either dead or in this world. That's how his sister was dragged into it, and Anton has a system for himself. (And also seen in the earlier chapters with Helen/Nora where she has a system of her own, which implies everyone has a different system on their own and they all play different roles) that's how anton knows every movement of his. and now u might be asking why Anton has those powers... next chapter you will know 🤔🤔🤔 it kinda all adds up eventually except i also still have the part to explain the process on how he sustains his power etc etc and the whole sacrificed stuff

anyways, so y/n learnt about the oracle, and then somehow the system bugs for him and he's transported into a whole new place where he sees his whole world in shatters... and wakes up. to clarify for that part, the oracle part was in a world where y/n was actually conscious, but the home part is when he transitions into a dream that anton manages to warp (with his [redacted] powers and also the help of the poisonous lily) so essentially it was [ place where he had the knockout process ] >> [ a dream that anton created where y/n is technically conscious but also not/lucid dreaming ] >> [to actual real life] ,, sorry if that was confusing man ugh

[ side note Anton does not know where y/n comes from, he simply altered the mental state of y/n to show a vision that depicts whatever home he has to be destroyed so that y/n will think he has nowhere else to go. idk ] if u have any confusion about this chapter feel free to comment

but on the BRIGHTER side, things will get alot more interesting i PROMISE and we only have a few chapters to the epilogue. please bear and stick with me i promise u won't regret