Swallowed by the abyss. Sunk to the depths. I’d never imagined I’d describe my sleep like this. Dark and dreamless. Time was irrelevant. It could not be counted. Even if I could count. Unnerving. There was a sense of loss. Uneasiness. I couldn’t find the source. It was bottomless. Everywhere, knocking, echoing. Like a colossal shark lurking, about to devour you. But you can’t see. You can’t move.

  I hate it. I hate every moment, every insufferable second. I scream without sound. Just let it end. Get me out of this deadness! WAKE THE FUCK UP Y…

  My eyes open.

  An unfamiliar ceiling greeted me. The hardness of the floor pressed against my back. It’s finally gone, the dread. No. It’s there. Faint and far away, but I feel it. Like a shark waiting for me to jump into the ocean again. What the hell was that? Did I drink too much last night, that I passed out on the floor wasted? No. That shouldn’t be possible; I rarely drink, even during my favorite festival, S…Song… What is my favorite festival? Why can’t I remember it? I was there. With my friends. My friends! Why can’t I remember their faces? It wasn’t even a blur. There was nothing to imagine. Nothing to grasp onto. Nothing at all.

  I tried to recall. Anything. Anything I could think of. Any place and people. Any memory I am supposed to hold close like a priceless treasure. There was none! I can’t remember them. Not even my family and my name. There it was again, the unpleasant feeling. Deep inside, sharp, and clear. I wanted to ignore it. I loathed it. It was there. A disgusting disease. I swore. Damn.

  Fucking Damn.

  What did I just hear? That didn’t sound like me. At least, I think so. This voice was deep and gruff. Little guttural. What did I sound like? I had no reference to compare. If my voice had changed, what else has? My body? Keenly aware of my prone form, I leaned up and looked down; I was naked. Well. Nudity was the least concerning thing about this whole moment. My skin was unfamiliar. Grey, hard, and covered in plates or scales. Except for the area around my front half, less pronounced scales. Whiter, with a hint of grey. This wasn’t me, not even close.

  Alright, at least I’m still me, mentally. Although I can’t remember anything, there must be something left. After all, I have words to think of. To speak. It won’t help me get them back, at least, not right now. But it might be a key to the lock, eventually.

  For now, let's do things I could do. I take in my surroundings; maybe there’s a mirror nearby? No. Unfortunate. What else is around this…room? I found myself half-sat up near the back wall of a strange room, a little smaller than my bedroom. My bedroom? I don’t remember it at all. The hardwood floor was clean, smooth against my scales. I felt something else. Warmth. To my left. A fireplace etched into a stone wall. Well-made. With brick and polished stone. Strange; no firewood lay beneath the flickering flame, only a silver dish the size of my palm.

  My palm. Odd. Clawed fingers. Pretty sure I didn’t have those before. My feet? Clawed too. Strangest of all; I can see my face. Elongated to a snout. Like some kind of reptile or lizard. Reptile? lizard? What are those? The words popped into my head out of nowhere.

  Just past my snout, I saw a round table, one-legged, with a small wooden base. To the right, an armchair made of pristine leather. The arrangement felt familiar. A scrap of paper sat, centered, on the table, scribbled with words I can read. From this far? I could spell it out word for word. I don’t think I could do that before.

  I stepped forward, and something pulled at my back. I glanced over my shoulder. A tail. Covered in gray scales. It flicked as I walked. Later. The scrap had more of my attention. Maybe I can learn more about my situation. Reaching forward, I grabbed, struggling to grasp it, my claws in the way. Finally. Clutching it in one hand, I flopped onto the chair. Comfortable, as expected. I’d always enjoyed sitting on a soft chair or sofa. Something was missing though. This scrap wasn’t enough; there should be something more. Something larger.

  Not that I felt truly relaxed, the uneasiness, the dread was still there. Pushing it to the back of my mind, I started reading. It was written in a familiar language. What was it? Whatever.

  Welcome to the Room of Realities [Vault]

  Your objective is to clear the Final room.

  Accumulate achievements. Tallied, your final score will determine your rewards.

  Any activities in this [Vault] can result in achievements.

  Possibilities lie ahead of you behind the door.

  Best of luck, Visitor.

  Crossing my legs, reading, I found myself uncomfortable; my odd legs and feet didn’t sit right on each other. It doesn’t look right. Feel right. I stopped. I hope to get used to it soon. These lines. These words. What they say shouldn’t be possible. A part of me felt that way. But a larger part; excitement filled the rest, bubbling out. I wholeheartedly accepted these new feelings. Even though these words didn’t make much sense, they felt familiar. Score, achievements, and rewards. These words. It made me think. A link to another word. ‘Game’

  I’d enjoy a game. That feeling sprung up. Crystal-clear.

  Like text from a game, the writing didn’t look hand-written. Each letter was consistent. Latched into the paper like it won’t ever be erased. Then, a thought occurred to me. I pinched at the top of the paper and slowly started to tear it apart, though it didn’t rip, not an inch. Even as I used more and more force the paper was perfectly fine. Not paper, steel leaf more like. Now that’s interesting.

  Putting the paper down on the table, I squinted; fireplace, wooden table, leather armchair. Nothing else. Just a door to my right. I stood up and approached the door.

  Wood darker than the floor. A brass doorknob. A symbol carved near the top of the door caught my eye: crossed swords. ‘A fight’. My thought rang. Faint. A distance away. But exists. Not ignoring it, I came to the only conjecture. A fight would be behind this door.

  I was not afraid for some reason. Should I be? A part of me said I should. But a bigger part flared with excitement like something has leaked from the depth of my being, anticipating, craving to accept. I am looking forward to it. To it? Was this even me? This body. Who. What have I become? I feel it all. The touch of scales or plates. The strength of muscles that contract and expand. The breathing. I took a deep breath and let it out. Out of a snout, my snout. And the tail, whatever it was… I was doing? It was me. Yet. Wasn’t me at the same time. It was. Weird. Still. I clenched my clawed fist. Whatever has changed, whatever I have become. Right now. This is how I feel, this is how I move.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  This is my body.

  And I will use this body to find out the truth, of this game, Room of Realities. What it wants and what it can give me; so many questions need answers. Since it’s a game, there must be a way to win, to beat the game. And to do that, I must prepare. Starting with my body.

  I walked around the room; cramped, my claws clicked softly across the wooden boards. I need more space. I shoved the furniture into the corner. My claws scraped the surfaces, marking their sharpness, making the task unwieldy. Not sturdy like that paper scrap.

  Only the fireplace was left unscratched. The flame cast my shadow, moving, jogging, walking. I tested my balance, my limbs felt like my limbs. Like they had always been mine. I flicked my tail, oddly easy. Like my arm. I swiped at the stone. Thwack. Clear, satisfying. That’s a pretty strong tail. Let’s try more, and I struck everything around me. A few times. A few more… minutes of celebrating. It barely stung. Instead, joy. Yes, I felt joy. Flicking it around, my tail was fine; no scratch, no fracture, no scorch mark. Of course, I didn’t burn myself, who’d do that?

  I moved onto testing my other limbs. I tried any maneuvers I could think of: jumping, rolling, punching, kicking, pouncing. Forming my fist to punch wasn’t very practical, I realized. So, I instead spread my claws and swiped. That’s more like it. Why would my first thought be punching instead of clawing? Maybe I didn’t have claws before. There was a lot to test, from how my elbows bent, to the way my ankles rolled. Jumping was intriguing, for some reason. I glanced up. The ceiling was pretty high above, lined with wooden boards just like the floor, though not as smooth. Not quite reachable, even if I jump with all my strength. Close, though. Looking over to the wall, an idea struck me. Running and kicking high at the surface, I pushed off to get higher. Finally, I managed to scrape the ceiling. All this exercise took a while, not quite sure how long. Yet, it wasn’t tiring at all.

  That should be it, for simple tests at least. Maybe I could increase the challenge with difficult maneuvers. Since I was engrossed in jumping, I could start with that. Jumping further? No, that’s just more exertion. I need more tricks, like flipping in mid-air. Forward and backward. My body felt agile enough, maybe I could do it.

  Readying myself, I stepped back into a crouch. Thunk. Strange. I heard the scratching and tapping of my feet across the wood enough that I stopped giving them much thought, but that last tap. That last tap was different.

  Tap Tap

  Knocking on the floor with my heel a few times, I listened closely. Investigating each plank one by one. Thump. Thump. Thunk. There. This plank, in a corner by the pile of furniture, sounded different, slightly. Hollowed. Crouching, I knocked with my scaled knuckle. Thunk. Yup. Hollowed. If I ripped it out, what will I find? My hand should fit, but there was an issue. Removing the plank wouldn’t be easy. Each board was fitted tightly. No gaps. There’s absolutely no way I could wedge my claws in between them. But something must be there. I want to find out. If I can’t pry it, could I destroy it? I glanced over at the table: the leg. Should be strong enough. At least as tough as the floor.

  I picked up the table, holding its single, wooden leg. Smashed it against the wall. A few more times. Until the flat surface was knocked off of the leg. Tumbling, it crashed against the far wall. Quite some strength I had there. More than I thought.

  With a wooden handle attached to the base, I flipped the base up. And struck the hollowed floor, again and again, trying to crack it open. It wasn’t doing much. The wooden base broke off shortly after, clattering across the floor. However, one end of the plank had sunk a bit, and the opposite end had bobbed up. Using what was left of the pole like a club, I hammered away until the board sprung out. Pulling it up revealed a compartment, hidden away. A thin book lay there. On the smooth dark stone. Who would make something like this just to bury a book? Is it that important?

  Picking it up, the book was smooth like any old notebook you could find in a… in a what? where? Damn my memory again. Printed on the cover ‘The Monster’s Core 101: Kent Belhmias edition’. Monster. I glanced at the door. Would there be a monster here, beyond the door? This might be my first clue to untangle the game I’ve been thrown into. Also, Kent? I guess he wrote this book. This suggested there could be different editions. I hope this edition is good and reliable, for being held within such a secret place. Gripping the book firm, I moved to sit on the lightly-scratched armchair. Might as well give it a read, and pray I even can. Which I do, that’s a relief.

  Only later that I noticed, it was in the same language as before. I was so immersed in the flow of words and details, I lost count. Although easy to read, the content was heavy. Confusing. But also understandable, at some points at least. Kent really tried to make sure it was appliable, with explanation and examples to clarify definitions and visualize them. It could only be so clear though. Dozens of terms, alien concepts, all built on a context I didn’t have. It was a nightmare, even with the explanation. I had more questions, ones I didn’t even ask, than answers. At least I’ve got more of the latter than when I started.

  From what I can understand. There will be monsters within the ‘Rooms of Realities’. Monsters disappear soon after you kill them, sometimes leaving behind an oval, gem-like fragment. They came in a variety of colors, depending on the monster itself, most often no larger than a thumb. These are the Monster’s Cores, not just any gemstone. The clearest difference is how they radiate light; within, tiny, tiny motes shift and dance, illuminating its surroundings.

  Since Cores come from monsters, the book listed examples of monsters I could possibly encounter. Although not much of their details were explained, the pictures and names captured my attention. Most I didn’t recognize, but a few were familiar: Goblins, Wolves, Slimes… I must have heard of them somewhere. A Core is used to strengthen visitors. Assuming visitors are me… and others? Here as well? Maybe I could look for them and… and what? I’m not sure. Do they even exist? And if they do, will they be friendly? Hostile? What if we come to blows? Like those games. Don’t ask me which.

  Ok, if this was a game, I’d kill a monster, they’d drop a Core, I used it and got stronger. To do that, I must swallow it. No chewing. It must be whole and within the body for its full potential. At least, that’s what Kent said. Though, the chance of actually getting one varied, depending on the creature. Rarer, or more powerful monsters, categorized as “special” had a much higher cores’ drop rate. Frustratingly, it didn’t really clarify what those are. Area leaders? Bosses? Do monsters have bosses? Like a full-timer? The image of a kobold working a register amused me.

  The next part was the most difficult to understand. It covered more than a third of this book. After swallowing, you absorb the Core while it’s inside your stomach. Why ‘absorb’, not digest? How would I know if it’s in the stomach, not shifting to the intestine? Is it safe? The book detailed the process to great length: how to focus your mind and control the absorption. Still, it all seemed so abstract. So far out of reach, it didn’t feel real. I’ll have to give it a try after I manage to get one.

  After making sure I had read everything, I gave the room one last survey. Tapping on the walls and floor, looking inside the fireplace, hurling stuff at the ceiling, and, after some hesitation, tearing the armchair apart. Yet, nothing came of it. The fabric was unfortunately secretless. Sigh. It’s not comfy anymore. Maybe it’s just this book. Nothing else. Or maybe. I didn’t pry hard enough. But I couldn’t spend too much time here. No food. No water. I heard my stomach rumbling at the thought. When was the last time I ate? Must’ve been before the deep sleep. Fuck that sleep by the way. I need to move. I need to find my lost memories, and seek answers for whatever’s going on with me. With this place.

  I could always come back. I hope. If I had more tools. Or help. Hmm, just in case, I’ll keep the book in my clawed clutch. Bring it with me. If I had tools, or help, I might return. The only thing left to check is the door. Stretching one last time, I steered towards the door.

  I gripped the brass handle, cool to the touch. I should be nervous, be hesitant. I wasn’t. However, I felt no peace. The dread followed me. Gloomed me. Like a slab of lead in my shadow. I pushed forward, trekking through the murk of my mind. Without pause, I turned the knob. There was a slight click, the door opened.