The descent was slow, with air so frigid to the point where it might have been palpable had my body been able to feel more beyond the atmosphere. Around me dropped the remains of the house, seemingly rocketing downward as if pulled by a force different from mine, stronger.

Darkness surrounded me with what appeared to be shards or glitters flying around and in between the falling rubble aimlessly, their surfaces sometimes reflectant, even without a source of light to speak of. I tried to move my head to get a better look, but my neck, no, my whole body felt so tired, so… numb.

My eyes fought against my will, demanding some rest - just close shut, just wish away the darkness, replace it with one of intentional ignorance. But they couldn't win. Because they did feel tired, even more exhausted than I was, yet that still didn't stop them from trying. The weightlessness, the loneliness, the numbness, they were all fighting against me, and my bloodied hands couldn't fight them back even if I wanted.

Until I felt my body rest itself on some sort of ground, coarse and grainy. My body was facing up, staring into the endless void above, but my hands were facing down. I just had to try, to push, to get myself up and standing, to see what was about. I had to know where I was.

Yet my body wouldn't obey, my arms shook and vibrated violently, my muscles, numb and unfeeling, began hurting, sore and weak. I could only muster a drag on the grains below as my hands dug in, only for them to slip, leaving me to lay there as if I was making a butterfly in the snow.

".." I tried to issue a protest, but my throat felt parched, sore and painful, and even what little I mustered simply came out as pure silence. There was nothing I could do beyond heave my chest and glance at the dropping particles and rubble, but I still had to get up.

'But should I?'

The thought interrupted, halting my breath and stilling my eyes. Do I really need to get up, do I truly have to find where I was or just do something? Couldn't I just lie here, and await what comes next? There was no exact reason I should move or get up. Nothing but me and myself, and wasn't that fine?

I shut my eyes, letting them rest. I closed my mouth, froze my arms and legs. I should just rest, and everything comes after. The fatigue was catching up, and definitely nothing was here except for me, but I still could see.

A blue box hovering above, always in the center of my vision, never disappearing even after ignoring it for so long. I wished it would be my imagination, that since I started falling, it would go away, but it never left.

[Continue?]

There were two buttons labelled yes and no, but I didn't believe in it. All my instincts told me to avoid it, to ignore it, and never respond, but it treated me all the same, floating without a care in the world. And it annoyed me. I hated every second it stood in my vision, every second it presented me with a choice that damned me if I did, and damned me if I didn't.

I remembered, and my hands dug strongly into the sands. It forced me to do what I would have never done, it ordered me to do what I could never do, and all so that I would do something in this fictional world whose only purpose was to serve as a recreational activity, a show to watch and never experience.

Yet here I was, in a world of nothing, imprisoned by the thugs and enslaved by the System, and for what? Only because I didn't buy a flower? Or was it because I was 'chosen' from the start? But why exactly me? Why in Vacuo and nowhere else? Could I even understand the mind behind the System?

Even if I tried to get angry, I felt suppressed, muted. My heart was beating slowly and steadily, and my breath was calm and regular, even when my mind was in disarray. Was the System still affecting me, even in this world? This feeling of heaviness in my body, was it as a result of the System, or was I simply just tired?

My eyelids lifted open, the ethereal glow of the void re-entering my vision, and the prompt just in the middle of it all. Gathering all my strength, I moved my arm, forced it to raise itself up, go just above my chest toward the hologram, the blue message from the most evil being in the world. And pressed No.

Nothing matters anyway. All of this, a dream. I will wake up back in my bed, and nothing would have happened. No blood shed on my hands, no System to push me around, and most of all, I'd be home, with my family and friends.

And just like that, it disappeared, and I was here, truly all by myself, and that was okay. Even if it wasn't a dream, even if this was reality, I was done being its slave. Just remembering the house, how it devolved, how I saw my mother, bloodied and..

I couldn't help but gnash my teeth in frustration. That vision shook me, and I hated it. The helplessness and pure weakness, just like now, as I could barely move my muscles, not even able to make a peep. If this was done by the System, if this weakness and powerlessness was just a show of how much it had control over me..

My hands shoved the ground with more power than I thought I had. My muscles shook, my lungs burned, and my abdomen strained, all before I had myself facing down and on all fours, an improvement, but that wasn't the extent of my wants. More force went into the sandy ground below, more and more muscle till I was on my two feet, sweating and coughing, but feeling fresher than ever.

Only for a crack to resound across my back as my vision swam, my body weightless like when I was just dropping, only this time I was accelerating quickly toward the sand, with my face taking the brunt of the impact.

The grains dug into my eyes, slid into my mouth and nostrils, but that wasn't the end of it. Whatever had just slammed me flying began pounding on my back, pressing whatever breath I had in me into the sand, over and over, until it got bored.

Shivering and in pain, I tried to rotate myself, if only to see the aggressor, but my arms were struggling even more than before. Yelling could do nothing but eat away at my vocal cords, but I still did, and it waited till I had a full view.

A Jackalope. Towering above me, its horns glistening, its eyes mocking, and its maw inching closer. It took me a moment to realize what it was about to do before it was at my right arm, and it chomped.

Without resistance, as if knife through butter, it took off my right arm and began nibbling on it, my body slowly registering the sudden lack of appendage before blaring in full force. My vision blurred, and my throat vibrated at an amplitude I could never imagine, and I didn't have to, because it already was.

I couldn't do anything but stare as it chewed my arm like it was chewing gum, my heart and the world slowing down till every second became 10, as the dark beast swallowed and its eyes gleamed and its face came closer, this time toward my other arm. Fearful, I shut my eyes, in desperate hope that it would just pass.

But nothing happened.

The blue screen came back to the center of my vision, as bright and strong as it always was. I had to open my eyes, to see the clear void above, a world devoid of the Jackalope, as if it was an illusion, a trick of my own mind. I was still reeling from the encounter, the sensations still fresh in my mind, the mocking way in which it indulged on my limb, I couldn't help but shiver. A Grimm, here? Why? What was it doing here?

In a desperate attempt to see if it was just skuling about, I craned my neck as much as my sore muscles could, but I couldn't spot anything, nothing but me and the blue rectangle. I thought about pressing No for the second time, but I became hesitant. Did the monster come because I chose No? Or was the world frozen, and it was simply hiding out of view? The helplessness kept me unmoving, but the idea of being permanently stuck because of this prompt filled me with more rage than I thought I could handle in my current state.

No.

The climb back up was as slow as it was agonizing, but while my body was preoccupied with lifting itself, my eyes were busy scanning every nook and cranny in my surroundings, the pain was still vivid, the throbbing in my back, the searing of my right arm. I had to find it, and avoid it, and-

Dealing with it was the plan, but once again it caught me from my side, my hip audibly cracking, my body spinning in circles as I flew in the sky, crashing into the sand before becoming intimately acquainted with a large piece of wall embedded in the sand, my lips smashing into it. The pain overwhelmed my senses, my ears ringing, and my eyes uncontrollably shutting in deep agony.

But a thud pierced through the fog, a thud not belonging to me, only belonging to the Grimm who audibly sniffed in the air, of which my barely open eyes caught a glimpse of. It took the time to pat my right arm, seemingly checking if it was there, marking the place where it would place its maw, its meat cutter, and inched its head closer.

I did not have to anticipate, I only felt it's cold teeth sink into my flesh, into the skin, the muscles, the nerves, and the bones. Slowly. It took its dear time, a satisfied rumble sounding out of it, in contrast to my silent screams. Like a repeat of last time, it stood up and began chewing on my lost appendage, each bite resonating through my body, as if it was still attached.

Then I couldn't hear anymore beyond my beating heart, couldn't see anymore beyond the blue devil in front of me. My arm felt numb, but attached, and my body felt unbroken, yet still dull. I feared that it would be a loop on repeat, the monster of darkness repeatedly ramming me, breaking my bones and chewing my arm. Was that my fate in this cursed world? Or..

[Continue?]

"damn.. you…" For the first time, I could hear my voice, but it was hoarse, weak and miserable. In anger, my right hand shoveled a fistful of sand - and threw it at the evil blue screen above. Harmlessly, the sand passed right through it before falling right on top of me, into my eyes and mouth. I coughed, but I couldn't see the options once I shut my eyes.

My heart skipped a beat once I realized what just occurred. In that instant, I knew I had to get up, I had to leave. I was in danger, deep danger. My movement scattered a great deal of sand around, but there was no time for gracefulness. The beast is coming, just like last time, and just like the time before it.

Alarms sung a symphony through my body, each part with its own type of pain, just different enough to warrant a new type of signal. But I was on my feet, unstable, huffing and sweating, but more prepared to bolt than I was before. And I did. At a snail's pace. I was limping, my arms flailing and the sand practically sliding under me. I wasn't fast by any means, but I was going as fast as my broken body could, in preservation.

I didn't stop running, walking deeper into the darkness beyond, weaving through the rubble like the smaller particles from before, with less grace, but with as much energy. "I don't want to die, I never wanted any of this in the first place." My mind muttered like a mantra, but my body gave. My thighs suddenly contracted on themselves, leading to a drop to my knees, my legs burning. "A.. Cramp!?" I coughed, as my chest heaved, fighting for every breath.

Then I saw it. Stalking behind the walls like a shadow, blending in with the darkness, but its mask couldn't hide it, seemingly glowing. It circled around my collapsed self, slowly, until I lost sight of it. It was behind me, I knew that, and I tried to dodge, to roll myself away, but all I got were frozen limbs followed by a ram to my exposed behind, sending me flying.

Whatever thoughts I had about my body hurting immediately flew out of my mind. My whole body felt like it cracked from the impact, not including the imminent crash into a wall straight ahead. This was it, I couldn't survive that. My head would be the first to touch the concrete, then..

-CEM-

Viscus woke up with a startle, his body drenched in sweat and his mind muddled. He lifted his head and glanced around, disappointment and fear both filling his body. The blond wasn't back home, not like he wanted. He wished, dearly so, that it was just a dream within a dream, but after what he just experienced, he couldn't put his mind to wishing it away, not anymore.

The boy was terrified, and cold. The air felt warm and humid due to the claustrophobic nature of the room along with the breaths of the prisoners, but he couldn't help but shiver, as if he was surrounded by ice. Eyes fell on the blond, but that was the last of his worries. He hugged himself tighter, eyelids shut, teeth clattering. "I can't.."

He was at his wit's end. The dream was too vivid, too strong. While the weakness, the helplessness, they struck at his core - his fears. He was weak. Couldn't bring himself to tough it up and accept his situation.

A murderer. And even if the blood would be washed off his hands, he was already tainted to his soul. Their lives, ended by him, and how would that end up? Would he lose all sense of morality, all sense of responsibility, and pull out a weapon on his family and friends in the same manner?

"Would I?" There was nothing to stop him, nothing to tell him that he was still innocent, that he didn't stab someone mercilessly in the neck, that he shot someone straight through his forehead, that he smashed someone's skull onto the edge of the broken window, over and over.

What is stopping him from doing the same to those who he really cares about?

Even if he looked at them like aliens, even if he treated them as foreign invaders, they looked human, bled red like he would, had aspirations and dreams like everyone else, even if they might have been more depraved than the average citizen.

He unlocked one of his arms and stared at his palm, slowly flexing it, analyzing it. His heart ached as another idea came to his brain. What if he had just up and left after taking care of the first bandit? Or even just tried to be diplomatic at it? Speaking, using words. They were speaking his language, so they would have understood him, and he them.

A weak, shivering sigh escaped him, his hand landing on his face, covering his eyes. Viscus was disappointed. "I can't believe it.." He couldn't have been that sleep deprived that his logic was non-functioning. Words, one of the cornerstones of communication, forgotten when it might have saved him from bloodying his hands.

Then he clenched his hand, scratching his face in the process. The Grimm. The monster of the dark. The minion of pure evil. The Jackalope. And the System. Was there a message he was supposed to learn from his dream? Because more than anything, he felt powerless, and he hated every second of it.

Vestiges of pain still ran through his body and mostly his right arm. He could still recall how it stood there, slowly drawing a line over where it would chomp, mocking him as it took every bite slowly, savoring every second of it. At that moment, he was no longer shivering due to the cold, but due to the sheer anger brewing inside him.

His teeth ground on each other, his eyes closed shut, his mind repeating each scene, over and over, until his fist struck the floor, and groaned at the throbbing that followed up. And it was like he was doused in cold water. It was.. painful. Why did his hand hurt? Did he not have Aura and enhanced powers due to his stats?

Try as he might, he couldn't even feel the mana inside him. It might have been masked by his generalized fatigue, but he couldn't feel the same energy he was getting accustomed to, his movements felt more sluggish, and the fact that his Aura didn't flare in response, that there was no Mana..

'Status', but there was no response. 'Skills', and nothing followed, his eyes widening in response. "It's gone." Viscus muttered to himself in disbelief.

The System left him. The System that brought him to this blasted world, the System that forced him to kill, the System that should have been here to assist him in his suicide mission. It was gone. No more blue prompts, no orders, and nothing to give him the edge that he needed to survive.

His heartbeat quickened, his mind trying to apply logic to the situation. "Okay, no problem, no problem. It's gone, that's what I wanted, right?" But that never answered why it had left. Were the dream prompts of any value, were they not really constructions of his mind, were they truly made by the System?

The blond took deep breaths, trying his best to calm himself, and it came in an instant. He stopped pulling on his hair, his arm dropping to the floor like a puppet whose strings were cut. "..." It was gone, and it didn't even bother bringing him back home. He knew he was not the guy for the job, he was not prepared, neither in body nor spirit, nor did he even think he was minutely qualified for it.

And it probably knew that too, otherwise it wouldn't have given up and left him. He was truly and finally alone, probably counting his last breaths in his prison and what comes after. His mind soon conjured scenarios of what his kidnappers would do, would they beat him to death, or would they torture him, break his body like they did with the rest of the prisoners?

Footsteps followed by shadows pulled his thoughts away. Unclear voices echoed through the door with ringing of keychains muffling any that would have been audible. The door opened, 4 silhouettes coming to view, each blocking the light differently due to their heights and positions.

The shortest one stood on the side, his expression undecipherable, but the words coming out of his mouth crystal clear. "Grab four of them." And they did, two of the thugs entering the room and pulling violently at the uncomplying gang members. Some buckled before others, mostly out of helplessness due to their injuries, until 4 were shackled and brought out of the room.

"You'll get the rest later." He spoke to them, dissatisfaction seeping through his voice, and the grunts responded with yeses of their own. He stepped away from the doorway and walked away, Viscus finally registering a characteristic as the apparent leader went into the light - dark red hair. And the door slowly began creaking inward.

The blond took a deep breath and shook his head, pointing his eyes back to the ground. Whatever just happened was the last of his worries, as he still had other issues to deal with. His eyes glazed as his mind busied itself, to the point where he lost all awareness of the surroundings.

And the door slammed shut, the absence of bright light drenching the room in soft shadow.

There was too much on my plate.. too much.. But no worries, pasta always prevails.

Many, many thanks to those who waited, really. Pasta promises that many things will be explained in the coming chapters, quite soon.

Regardless, I wanted to put this out before we entered the new year. So yeah, Happy New Year, and happy holidays.

Pasta, unfortunately, is still busy, and thus next update will probably take some time, but don't worry your little meatballs, I'll be back. Stronger.

How's that for a bland protagonist, eh?