A/N: I wanted to write something insane. What else can I say?

-CHAPTER 1-

THE ASYLUM

Insanity. It was so thick in that place, he could almost smell it. People kept in this prison were those so mad they could never be released back to society - some were what you'd expect in an insane asylum; serial killers, rapists, mad men that were so insane you'd expect they'd been teleported straight from a comic book. These people were known to be held in the asylum by everyone - the public knew if there was a breakout, dangerous people would be released. Even the young boy, who was looking up at the looming white building, knew that. And he was only eight.

He also knew something that no-one else knew. Some people who were taken there weren't normal. Sure, no-one who was taken there was normal in the head, but some were physically obscure. One time, he'd even seen a boy who was half-human, half-machine taken there. It had given him nightmares for months. The boy had had metal plates replacing his skin, one of his eyes was obviously fake, with wires poking up from underneath it as it moved eerily. Ever since then, the young boy knew that something was off about the asylum.

Then again, he'd always known something was off about it. In his earliest memories, about when he was two or three years old, he remembered playing with a girl who was the mirror image of him - blonde hair, cerulean eyes and a big smile. They were fond memories. So fond, it seemed strange that he'd forget who she was.

"Len, dear, it's getting cold," The boy's mother, Lenka, pestered him sweetly from the doorway, "You should come inside before the sun sets."

Len looked up from his spot by the fence. It had always been his spot - it was the best view of the asylum from down the hillside, and it was quite comfortable to sit on the log during the summer and watch the clouds drift by. Lenka smiled at the angelic little face of her son, beckoning him inside with a nod of her head.

Len got up from his spot, shuffling towards the back door and into the old country-styled kitchen. The British countryside was a lot more beautiful than the pictures of Tokyo that his mother had taken when she lived there - there were no tall buildings out in the countryside, except, of course, for the looming white asylum.

Since he'd learnt how to count, Len had been trying to figure out just how many storeys high the asylum was - it rose so high about the constant thick grey clouds, he couldn't really tell. He thought at least sixty storeys high. Len had long since stopped asking his mother about the asylum - since that day he'd questioned the robot boy, she'd been very tight-lipped about it, and it usually made her very angry. It's not worth it.

Len sat on the floor in the small living room, which, besides the bathroom and kitchen, was the only room on the small first floor of their country home. The living room was full of many bookcases, containing various hard-to-read books that Len had never even bothered attempting to read. He was content with sitting by the asylum all day, letting his imagination take him on journeys above the clouds. He didn't even play sports with all the other kids nearby - not that there were many of them. About two or three.

And none of them were blonde and female. Unless you counted his mother.

"Len, why don't you be a dear and help me with dinner?" Lenka asked, poking her head out around the corner of the kitchen. Len got up from the floor, heading into the kitchen and pulling up the small stool in the corner to reach the counter, washing his hands before going with the usual routine of helping by mixing the sauce.

After dinner, Len went off to his room on the top floor of the countryside home, sitting on his bed, staring out the oval-shaped window that faced the darkened asylum, barely visible from the way its stark white colour stuck out against the dark night sky. He couldn't explain why he was fascinated with it. He just was.

And then, suddenly, for the first time ever, a light flickered on in the distance. Len blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting, able to see the small barred window that had suddenly lighten up. Am I dreaming? He wondered to himself, leaning closer towards the window.

Moments later, a bloodcurdling scream filled the air, causing Len to jump back, falling off his bed, landing on his behind on the floor. It was a scream of pain. Of extreme pain.

A siren set off at the asylum, causing Lenka to rush into her son's room.

"We have to go, sweetie," She said, helping Len up, grabbing a suitcase, beginning to pack the necessaries and irreplacables away.

Len didn't ask what was happening - it had something to do with the asylum, it would probably make his mother mad. She thrust the suitcase into his hands, before running off to pack her own bags, telling Len to wait downstairs.

Len went down the stairs into the dark living room, bracing himself against the railing. Something was happening at the asylum, that was for sure. Curiously, Len snuck out of the kitchen, stepping into the field, kneeling in his spot and grasping the barbed wire fence carefully, looking up at the asylum. He had a clearer view now, yet nothing more was explained. A break-out, he supposed. Which meant they were in danger - especially considering how close they were.

"Len!" Lenka called, stepping outside, her voice full of worry, "Len, sweetie, we need to get out of here."

Len kept staring at the asylum, his mothers words fading away into the background. The window with the light on was stained a strange red colour, with gaps in which the light seeped through. Squinting his eyes, Len realised that the gaps spelt out a word.

Come.

Slowly and steadily, Len stepped over the wiring, beginning his ascent towards the asylum.

"LEN!" His mother screamed at him, yelling threats of grounding, pleads, bribes, anything she could think of. But he was already lost.

It barely took Len twenty minutes to reach the top of the hillside, where two thick, iron doors stood in his way. He stared at them, as if that could change something, as if they'd open. And they did. The loud creaking noise blocked out Len's approaching mother's desperate cries, as he stared up at the windows, which were slowly lighting up above him. Stepping through the doors, which instantly slammed shut, locking his mother out, Len stood blankly in the stark white corridor.

Doors led off on all sides, like a prison with concealed cells, the corridor stretching on forever and ever, the walls, ceiling and floor the same eye-aching white. It was bright inside the asylum, though there seemed to be no lights.

"Hey... You..." A voice called from the first cell on the right, causing Len to walk up to it. He couldn't see through the bars on the door, as he was much too short, "Could you let me out of here?"

Len thought for a few seconds, before replying softly, "Who are you?"

"Just a guy." The voice replied. It was gruff and old sounding and it reminded Len of the farmer, Al, who lived down the road.

"Is that your name?" Len asked, with no hint of sarcam in his voice.

"No. Of course it isn't," The voice said, laughing hoarsely.

"What's your name?" Len asked, "If you tell me, I may let you out."

"Don't be stupid, kid," The voice replied, "I'm not allowed to tell you my name, you have to figure it out. Besides, you'll need my help if you're going to get out of here."

"Why would I want to leave?" Len asked quietly, "I only just got here."

"Then enjoy your visit," The man said snidely, "And when you need my assistance, run back here and let me out, like the good little boy you are."

Len stepped away from the door, noticing the sheet of paper hanging against the wall. It would've, supposedly, contained the prisoner's information. But this one was completely blank, almost as if it were in front of an empty room. Speaking of empty, it seemed that every other cell in the corridor was. Len continued down the hallway, his bare feet slapping against the pale concrete floor. He stopped after a while, noticing the end of the corridor wasn't getting any closer.

Perhaps he did need that man's help. Turning around, Len found himself barely a few steps outside of the man's cell. Had he been walking on the spot the entire time?

"I need your help," Len said, pressing his hand against the cell door.

"I thought you would," The man said, "Everyone always does."

"Everyone?"

"Every single person who enters this place needs my help. They all let me out, and I lead all of them to the exit. Assuming they survive that long, anyway." The man replied simply.

"If every single person lets you out, then why are you still in there?" Len asked, his fingers reaching towards the release lever on the wall.

"Because every time someone fails, everything goes back to normal." The man explained, "Every prisoner returns to their cells, every parent forgets they ever had a child, every friend forgets they even knew the person who failed. It's entirely wiped from existence."

Len paused for a moment, "You mean this... Isn't real?"

"Of course it's real," The man replied, "Simply real in a different dimension to yours. If you fail, you're trapped here forever, becoming one of the pawns in this ever continuing game."

"And if I succeed?" Len asked.

"No idea," The man said, "I suppose, if someone succeeds, everything wouldn't reset itself. And therefore, we'd all leave with you - those of us who want to, anyway. But no-one has ever left. Humans have sent the most intelligent and bravest of humans in here, but eventually, they've all gone insane. From going around and around and around. And due to their insanity, they can never escape, and eventually end up surrendering."

"You don't seem insane." Len offered as a compliment.

The man laughed, "I think the reason you say that, boy, is because you're insane yourself."

Len decided not to question this, finally reaching the lever and pulling it down with all his might, dangling off of it slightly. A clicking noise sounded as the door slid open instantly.

"You can come out now." Len said, "The door's open."

"I am out." The man said simply.

Len frowned, looking around, seeing nothing, "Where are you?"

"Right here." The man said, "You can't see me though. My body long ago fell apart - only my soul is left."

"Oh. Okay." Len said, "Can I progress now?"

"Yes," The man said, "Just go through into my cell - there's a passage through there."

"What am I supposed to call you?" Len asked as he stepped into the cell.

"I never had a name," The man explained, "I was the first one given up to this place to try and rescue 'him'."

"Him?"

"Well, that's the only name I know him by," The man explained, as Len found a small crack in the wall, breaking it apart and crawling through into the tunnel, "Apparently, he was a very precious person to the human society - therefore, they needed him back desperately. I believe he was the only demon to have ever entered the human world, and therefore the only one able to use magic. However, the demons decided that humans couldn't have him in their midst, and they built a large, sixty-six storey building over where he was standing, teleporting him back to his own dimension."

"So, this place was created by demons?" Len asked curiously.

"Yes, I suppose so. And every century, this place moves locations, as to stop the humans from sending too many people in. Of course, centuries after 'he' was taken back to the demon realm, many humans had completely forgotten about him. However, a small band of loyal followers sent more humans in, generation after generation. I was the first sent in - and that was five-hundred years ago. I was sent in as merely a child - about the age of five years old. I was bred specifically for this place - given the best training possible."

"So why didn't you make it?" Len asked, "Surely there was no-one else here to stop you."

"Well, for one, I was five years old," The man explained, "And I suppose it was because there was no-one here that I was insane so fast. All of a sudden, my parents were gone and so was everything else I'd ever cared about. I was alone in a strange place. It barely took me three minutes to go crazy. And then I woke up in that cell with a mysterious amount of knowledge of how to get through this place, so I asked the next person to let me out so I could help them. And for five centuries, the cycle has repeated like that - the band of followers that never forget send in another hapless human, or one stumbles in, such as yourself, I helped them as much as I could, but eventually they went insane and everything was reset; like an ever-going game. Some trapped souls would feel greedy and try to trap others, whereas the majority of us just want to go home, restore our parents memories, live our lives."

"If you've been around for five hundred years, wouldn't you just disappear?" Len asked.

"At this point in time," The man said, "I just want to end this game. So many young, charming people have stumbled in here, lost their minds and become confined. Many are still insane, whereas few grab their sanity back. Like me. I never ask for any player's name, as I know they'll fail, and I'll end up grieving for someone I never should've. I know them simply as 'player' with their number."

"What number am I?" Len asked.

"Number sixty-six, I believe." The man said, "Ironic, really. Considering that's not only the demon's strongest number, but also the amount of floors in this building."

Finally, the tunnel ended, light seeping through the crack in the wall that Len broke apart, stepping out into a new corridor. This corridor, unlike the previous one, went off in the other direction, with few doors. The doors were open, meaning Len could easily see down the two hallways he had to choose from.

"Choose whichever you want," The man said, "They both come out on the second floor."

The second floor. That was Len's goal, right? To get to the top of this building - all sixty-six floors of it.

Len stared at the two corridors - left or right. Right is right, left is wrong. He concluded, pushing through the door to the right corridor. Mirrors lined the wall closest to the other corridor, where glass lined the other - revealing a long, empty cell, full of chains covered in blood. Blood smeared up the walls and against the glass, in barely comprehendable writing.

The right way is not always the correct way.

Len ignored the writing, and his invisible companion remained silent, having seen it fifty-three times already. The corridor went on and on, but there was an obvious door at the end, and it was getting closer as Len moved towards it, so nothing needed to be said. Words would simply drive him closer to insanity, right? Dwelling on anything he saw here would push him closer and closer to the edge.

"Len?" A small voice said from inside the seemingly empty cell, "Len, is that really you?"

Len stopped, looking towards the glass cell. Not a soul inside - well, not a fleshy body anyway.

"Len, please, look at me." The voice pleaded, "Remember who I am."

"Where are you?" Len asked calmly, feeling warmth and recognition dripping from the voice.

"I'm here!" The voice cried, the chains tugging against the wall as if someone had fallen forwards, "Right here! In front of your eyes!"

Len made his way back to where the chains had been tugged, pressing his face up against the glass, "I can't see you."

"If you just look at me, I'll be free." The feminine voice explained, "And then we can be together again."

Len wished that his invisible companion would speak up and tell him if the girl was actually there - but when he thought about, the sound of his companion's breathing had died away the moment he'd entered the room. Not that the breathing had been very loud before, but enough to notice.

"I can't see you." Len repeated, before noticing the blood against the glass had rearranged itself to spell out something different.

Sometimes it's wise to look behind you.

Len frowned at the text - there was nothing behind him. The door was locked shut, so there was no way he'd be able to back-track.

"Please, Len, I'm begging you! Look at me!"

Slowly and steadily, Len turned around, facing the mirror wall. In a flicker of a moment, a face came into view in the mirrors, broken by the cracks in the wall. The face was familiar, yet older than Len remembered it to be. Cerulean eyes met his, the blonde hair falling in the girl's face as her eyes lit up.

"Len." She breathed in relief, "Thank you. We'll meet again soon."

And with that, she faded away. Len turned back to the glass cell, that was now completely empty, the shackles broken away from the wall, as if they'd been cut. The blood was gone too, and the room was replaced with a library full of children books stacked on their sides. With that, the corridor seemingly morphed, becoming shorter, the door to exit barely inches away from Len's grasp.

Len turned the metallic door handle, shoving against it and stepping out into the corridor, a weird feeling bubbling through him.

"I forgot to mention," A voice said, startling Len slightly, as he realised it was the man from before, "That there are some rooms in which I cannot enter with you."

"Why do I feel so strange all of a sudden? And why do my legs hurt?" Len asked.

"You've aged," The man explained, "Time advances differently in the demon world - in a way I can't even begin to understand. Sometimes, a year or two will pass by in a moment, other times, it will take centuries for just a second to progress. Age wise, anyway. Other than that, time advances normally, so don't expect time to suddenly go in slow motion."

"So, you mean, I grew older?" Len asked.

"Yes," The man said, "In a way, it's an advantage for this game, as you'll become stronger quickly. If you were, however, say, forty years old, it would be a disadvantage. You're lucky you're so young."

The newly nine-year-old Len looked around the new room. It was small, with the two doors behind him obviously leading to the previous corridor and the left corridor. Stairs led up from the middle of the room, obviously leading to the second floor.

"For many people, they fail the game after aging three years, unable to deal with how rapidly their body is changing," The man explained, "For others, they can almost get to the end without aging a second. It depends on how the time is feeling. If it's angry, it'll advance faster, if it's sad, it'll advance slower."

"What if it's happy?" Len asked, going up the stairs.

"If the time is happy, it'll advance in the way that best suits you." The man explained, "For you, it'd probably advance quickly until you were eighteen, or had enough body strength and height to have an advantage in this game. For others, it'd stop advancing until they were finished. Due to this, most of us are actually the correct age for our amount of time from staying here."

"How old are you?" Len asked curiously, as he reached the top of the stairs.

"Well, I've been here five hundred years, which would be long enough for my body to decompose. I believe I'm around the age of four-hundred-and-sixty-nine, though." The man said, "And the reason I haven't completely disappeared, is because this is 'his' punishment. To watch his beloved humans suffer for all eternity - until one of them manages to win."

"In other words," Len said, "You can't die here."

"Well, you can in a sense," The man said, "If someone stabbed you through the heart, your sanity would die. But yes, physically, it's impossible to die. Only your sanitiy can be murdered - though in most cases, it's accidental suicide, like slipping on something and ending up with a knife through your throat."

The second floor which Len had arrived on had remarkable resemblance to the corridor when he'd first entered, except the first cell on the right was completely sealed off with no door at all, as was the second door on the left.

"As you go up every floor, freeing us from our cells, they're closed up. You can see who've you freed as you progress to the next floor - kind of like tallying your score on a computer game, I suppose." The man explained.

"So my objective is to free everyone?" Len asked.

"Not really - you don't have to score high to win the game, but it's always the better way to do things." The man explained, "To win the game, you have to get to the top."

Len nodded, "And to get past each floor, I have to solve puzzles, right?"

"Exactly." The man said, "And every person you save is bound to help you - like me, for instance. You let me out and I'm telling you how to play. You let the girl out, and she'll come back to help you later. Also, I believe saving her 'unlocked' something for you to look at later."

"So this world..." Len said, "Is basically a demon's version of a real-life computer game."

"Basically. And each character you come across helps you, whereas the actual place itself is your enemy. Think of it as that your bacteria, and every person you meet is bacteria. With enough bacteria, the thing you're inside of is more likely to keel over and die, but one small piece of bacteria can kill the thing - if it's strong enough." The man explained, "That's how this game works."

"Then, I suppose, we best get moving - before I turn sixty-six."

- END -