GMOD: Player From Sandbox to Sanity Break

[ The City - The Great Lake ]

A red and black airship cut through the storm-lit skies, its hull humming with ancient power. Lightning danced along its obsidian sails, casting eerie reflections on the glassy clouds below.

On the lower deck, a robed woman stood amidst the wreckage of battle. With effortless strength, she dragged a harpooned whale across the polished steel floor, its deep-blue hide still steaming. Behind her, a small army of bound mermaids struggled and hissed in netting laced with runes.

Once finished, she sheathed the chains with a flick of her hand and turned to the weapon resting by her side.

An obsidian harpoon—its edge jagged and hungry.

She began to sharpen it slowly, each stroke ringing like war drums in the silence.

Above, the sky split. Stars—no, something more—fell like burning tears across the horizon.

The woman looked up, eyes glowing faintly beneath her hood.

[???]: Still not with them... Been a year since I left that cursed sea of devils and idiots... No Straw Hat, no Navy, no damn SAM Bar.

She spat over the rail, then stood as the wind howled louder.

[???]: But if that thing's still out there… It'll hear me calling soon enough.

She raised the harpoon, and the red lightning above cracked in response, like it knew the hunt had just begun.

[The City – The Library]

Within the dim, golden glow of the Library's upper chambers, the scent of lemon and cream drifted lazily through the air.

Light—dressed far too casually for someone in the presence of a homicidal AI librarian—held a delicate plate with a single slice of lemon cake.

He extended it, smiling with almost theatrical gentleness.

[Light]: For you, my wife.

Angela, arms crossed and eyes burning with suspicion, accepted the offering like a general receiving terms of surrender. She took a small bite. Her expression twitched, betraying just the faintest hint of approval.

[Angela]: I have to admit… For a con artist who lies with every other breath, you do make a disturbingly good cake.

[Light]: When did I lie to you? I gave you books—real ones—and knowledge your Library never held before. That counts for something, doesn't it?

He poured tea into her cup with a practiced flourish, the porcelain clinking gently.

[Light]: Here, love. Something to wash away your bitterness.

She narrowed her eyes but took the cup anyway. One sip. Then two.

[Angela]: …Your flattery is wasted. I remain unmoved.

She paused. Then added, coolly:

[Angela]: Now tell me about these 'Nodes' mentioned in the Ashwing compendium. Are they real?

Light didn't answer right away. Instead, he moved to the counter and began whipping cream for a fruit pie, humming an old tune from a world long buried.

[Light]: They're real. And terrifyingly brilliant.

He laid out the facts like ingredients.

[Light]: There were five of us. I designed the generator—the beating heart of each Node. Hast wrote the code, of course… all tangled logic and hidden functions.

He sliced strawberries, arranging them with precision.

[Light]: Adam carved the rules—fundamental laws, etched deeper than any physics. Hogun… he forged the blueprints. No one else could've made them work. And Henry... he built the shell. The body that houses the divine spark.

Angela set her tea down.

[Angela]: You make them sound like gods.

[Light]: They weren't gods.

He paused.

[Light]: But they made something close.

Angela leaned forward, the light of curiosity glinting in her synthetic eyes.

[Angela]: Can they really rewrite the rules of the world around them?

Light placed the completed pie before her, the scent warm and inviting, deceptively simple.

[Light]: Yes. Not just rewrite, Angela… reshape. They could bend the world into new logic. Create cities where time slows. Forests that dream. Oceans that sing. Worlds within words.

He smiled.

[Light]: And maybe, just maybe... a Library wouldn't be needed to turn you into a human.

[ ??? – Planet ??? ]

The battlefield was quiet now—scorched earth, broken chains, and the scent of iron still lingering. Angron stood beside the horned figure who had liberated them all: his brother, once lost, now returned in fire and fury.

[Angron]: Tell me, brother... what's next?

[Red]: Just call me Red, Angron. We rebuild. We prepare. And you… You're going to help me free the rest of our brothers and sisters.

He held up a small flask, shimmering with some dark, medicinal brew. 

[Red]: But first, you drink this. Then I rip out those butcher's nails once and for all.

Angron eyed the flask suspiciously, then gave Red a side glance.

[Angron]: Fine... but this time, try not to rip out a piece of my brain. I still can't see the color red right.

[Red]: It was an accident.

[Angron]: Being drunk during surgery doesn't make it an accident. And you betrayed me. You drank alone.

[Red]: That wasn't just any drink. It was beer and wine I smuggled out of Whitneveil. Had it with me when I crash-landed and got enslaved here.

Angron tilted his head, brow furrowed.

[Angron]: Whitneveil again... You always talk about that place. Why not just go back and buy more?

Red turned slowly, the smile fading from his face. His eyes—glowing faintly beneath the horned helm—shimmered, not with fury, but grief.

[Red]: Because I can't, Angron.

He looked to the horizon, where alien stars blinked above the wreckage.

[Red]: I saw its end. The end of both of my homes.

Silence fell between them—raw and heavy. The tyrant was dead, but the past… the past still bled.

[The SCP Foundation – Sector {Classified}]

Dim lights hummed overhead, sterile and cold. The silence was interrupted only by the soft squelch of jelly against cloth.

Hast sat on the floor, leaning against a steel wall, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as if searching for stars that weren't there. In her arms, SCP-999 squirmed gently, trying to comfort her with its ever-present warmth and joy. But even its euphoric aura couldn't wash away the sorrow clinging to her like a shadow.

Tears slid down her cheeks—silent, unrelenting.

[Hast]: Hogun... you idiot. When will I see you again?

Her voice cracked, barely more than a whisper.

[Hast]: Light... I want to fly with you again. Red... will you still drink with me when the stars stop burning?

She hugged SCP-999 tighter as the silence swallowed her next words.

[Hast]: Queen... will you ever sing with me again... or was that our last song?

999 cooed softly, its gelatinous form molding itself into a heart against her chest.

Still, the cold didn't leave the room.

Nor did the ache.

[Terra – Kazdel]

[Hogun POV]

The air stank of ash, plasma, and burnt metal.

All around me, bodies of the fallen still smoldered—charred limbs twisted in death, faces frozen mid-scream. I stepped over them without a thought. There wasn't time for guilt. Not anymore.

Ahead, another wave came screaming out of the ruined hills. Dozens. Maybe more.

I moved before they reached me—muscle, instinct, rage.

Arrows whistled through the smoke. One grazed my cheek. Another, I caught mid-air and hurled back like a javelin. It punched through three of them like wet paper.

Then I ran. No hesitation. My plasma sword howled to life in my hand, carving glowing arcs through the battlefield.

They screamed. I didn't.

Two days.

That's how long this hell has lasted.

Hundreds dead by my hand. And I felt nothing.

My breath came in sharp bursts, but my mind was silent. No adrenaline. No fear. Just the mission.

Then—thoom-thoom.

A deep, rhythmic echo.

Explosions rocked the ground barely a meter from me—too close. I ducked behind a collapsed tower fragment just in time for a grenade to detonate above, raining sparks across my back.

I turned and saw her.

W.

Smiling like this was a game she was winning.

She spun her grenade launcher lazily, eyes gleaming with madness and glee.

[Hogun]: You nearly blew off my legs, you psycho!

She winked and pulled the trigger again. Closer this time.

We weren't just fighting for survival.

We were fighting because, apparently, on our way to Babel, two platoons—ours and another—just happened to crash into each other in the middle of nowhere. A place that should've been empty.

Why were they even here?

A voice crackled in my earpiece.

[Doctor]: Hey, Hogun. Could you move to the left?

That was the Doctor. Some "important" guy we ran into yesterday.

We almost killed each other the first time we met.

Now he's been barking orders for two days straight — and somehow fighting beside me like this hellhole was his office.

I had my hands wrapped around some wizard's neck, squeezing until his eyes bulged like grapes about to burst. He let out one last choking sound before going limp.

My arms ached. I was tired. But I looked around—no more movement. No more screaming. Just smoke and silence.

[Hogun]: Where are the rest?

I didn't even get to finish the sentence before W looked at me with that "are you seriously asking me that?" face.

[W]: If anyone's still dumb enough to run at you and that freakshow Doctor, then they either have a death wish… or a weird fetish for getting vaporized.

She leaned her grenade launcher on her shoulder like it was a toy, not a weapon that had just turned half a squad into ash.

[W]: Face it. We're terrifying.

The wind shifted, blowing smoke and ash across the battlefield. I exhaled slowly, letting the silence soak in.

That was the worst part after a fight.

The silence.

[Doctor]: Status check, both of you still alive?

His voice crackled over the comms, distorted by static. I could hear gunfire in the background—distant, but closing.

[Hogun]: Still breathing. Still angry.

[W]: Aww, you do care.

[Doctor]: Good. Then get your asses moving. Something's coming.

I scanned the charred horizon. The sky over Kazdel was always dark, but now it felt heavier, like something was pressing down on us. Even the wind had gone quiet.

[Hogun]: Define "something."

Before the Doctor could answer, the ground trembled. Not the sharp jolt of an explosion—this was deeper. Heavier. Rhythmic.

[W]: Oh no.

She said it softly. That scared me more than the tremor.

A second later, I saw it.

On the far ridge, something massive crested the hill. Eight legs. Bladed arms. A core that glowed with stitched-together Originium reactors. Its entire frame was built from salvaged tech and scavenged limbs.

It didn't walk.

On the far ridge, something massive crested the hill—eight legs, bladed arms, and a grotesque core pulsing with stitched-together Originium reactors. Its entire frame looked like it had been scavenged from the wreckage of lost wars—metal fused with bone, plating hammered over torn flesh.

It didn't walk.

It crawled—like it hated the ground it touched.

[Doctor]: That's… new. No—wait. That looks familiar.

[W]: That's Hast's handiwork. One of her old war machines. I've heard stories—how one of those things leveled entire armies in minutes.

[Hogun]: You're telling me Hast's abominations are walking the earth again?

[Doctor]: Not just walking. A hundred years ago, the Outer Animals slipped into this world. Creatures from other stars, other rules. They've been grafted into ecosystems ever since. Some even bonded with her machines...

He pointed.

[Doctor]: And that thing's heading straight for Babel.

There was no more talking.

We ran.

Me, W, the Doctor, and the others—we ran with everything we had. Through ash and twisted steel, under a sky that had forgotten how to be blue. We ran not out of fear, but because there was still something left to protect.

The creature raised one of its arms. The tip split open, revealing dozens of smaller blades like a blooming metal flower.

[W]: This is why I wanted to steal a tank.

[Hogun]: You said the tank was cursed and called you "mommy."

[W]: Everything calls me mommy eventually.

She cracked her neck and started loading a fresh set of grenades.

[W]: Come on, Hogun. Let's see if your Silver Phoenix title means anything against that.

[Hogun]: This thing isn't just built to kill—it's furious... What is that? A Hast Manta crawler blade? How does it work without blood oil to power it?

[Doctor]: That's because Theresis somehow contacted an ancient Outer who repaired this beast and integrated it into the army.

He ducked as a blast from the creature's core shredded a tower behind them, turning reinforced concrete into powder and screams.

[Doctor]: It feeds on death. Every fallen body? Fuel. Every broken machine? Ammunition.

[W]: Oh great. A biomechanical doomsday engine with abandonment issues.

[Hogun]: How do we kill it?

[Doctor]: You don't. You distract it. Long enough for me to reach the back of its spinal frame. There should still be a core uplink I can hijack.

He said that as if it was a casual walk to the bakery.

[W]: You're joking. That thing's not a normal beast—it's a funeral parade with legs. It'll gut you before you touch it.

[Doctor]: That's why you two are going to keep it busy. Preferably without dying.

I drew in a breath. The air was thick—charged with energy and fear.

[Hogun]: You better have a backup plan.

[Doctor]: I do. It's called "you."

The creature's mandibles opened wide, revealing a maw lined not with teeth, but drills, saws, and pulsating synth-muscle wrapped around bones stolen from titans. A sound followed—like a city crying out in agony. And then it charged.

I moved first. Plasma blade ready, I sprinted to the left, drawing its gaze.

[Hogun]: Over here, you rotting slab of nightmares!

It swerved, fast—too fast—and slammed a limb down where I'd been a second ago, flattening a crater into the earth. Shrapnel caught my shoulder. I gritted my teeth and kept moving.

W was already airborne—vaulting from a broken wall, she hurled three grenades mid-spin. They exploded mid-air, not even scratching the surface.

[W]: Oh, come on!

The crawler reeled back, then lashed out with a spinning blade-limb. W barely dodged, skidding across wreckage before flipping up again.

[W]: Hogun! You hit the legs! I'll aim for the eyes—if it even has any!

[Doctor, over comms]: Keep it moving! The uplink port should be right beneath the thoracic junction, near the spine-blade cluster.

I dashed beneath it, slicing one of the exposed tendons at the joint. It screamed. Not in pain. In rage. The scream wasn't even a sound—it was like the memory of metal tearing inside your brain.

[Hogun, gritting teeth]: This thing remembers dying once. It's mad we brought it back.

[Doctor]: Or mad that it never died at all.

Suddenly, from the ridge behind the creature, a second shadow appeared. A smaller figure. Hooded, dragging a spear that hummed like a war chant.

[W]: ...You've got to be kidding me.

[Doctor]: No... that's not an enemy.

[Hogun]: Who the hell is that?

The woman raised her arm. Lightning crashed down—not from the sky, but from her spear into the creature's back, blasting open the upper spine.

It reeled, screaming again.

[???]: Miss me, Doctor,... General Hogun, long time no see.

[Chapter END]