Phased out

The moment Phase 0 ended—Johnathan and Kacey were torn from reality.

The darkness swallowed them whole.

And then—they were somewhere else.

The air was heavy. Oppressive.

A dense mist clung to the jungle floor, curling around twisted roots and jagged rocks, carrying the thick stench of rotting vegetation and something far worse.

The trees weren't normal—their bark pulsed as if something inside was breathing, shifting, alive. Their branches twisted and coiled together, forming unnatural patterns, like skeletal fingers reaching toward the sky.

Vines hung low, but they weren't vines.

They twitched, recoiled when touched, and some ended in sharp, needle-like barbs dripping with dark liquid. The deeper into the jungle, the more the vines resembled torn tendons, stretched unnaturally between trees.

The ground was no safer.

The mud—**if it even was mud—**had a strange pulse beneath the surface, as if something was shifting just out of sight. Step too hard, and bubbles would rise, bursting with the rancid stench of decay and raw meat.

And the creatures—they had no right to exist.

A serpent, impossibly long, coiled itself around a half-decayed tree, its skin bulging and shifting as if something was trapped beneath.

Its eyes weren't two but many, scattered across its head in a grotesque spiral. When it opened its mouth, three rows of jagged fangs gleamed, venom dripping to the forest floor and burning through leaves like acid.

A scorpion, half the size of a human, skittered between trees, its exoskeleton cracked open in places, revealing pulsating red flesh underneath.

Its stinger—**as long as a man's leg—**dripped with a thick, yellow secretion, the scent alone enough to burn the nostrils.

From the canopy above, moths as large as hawks fluttered with broken, tattered wings.

But their faces—they were human.

Or at least, they used to be. Their mouths opened and closed soundlessly, black holes where voices should have been.

A beetle, the size of a dog, crawled across the jungle floor, its shell cracked apart—but instead of an exoskeleton, the inside was filled with writhing, worm-like tendrils.

The tendrils lashed out at anything that moved, tasting the air, searching.

And the worst of them all—the centipede.

It moved between the trees, thick as a human torso, covered in jagged, bone-like protrusions that scraped against the bark. But it wasn't the size that made it horrifying.

It was the legs.

It had no normal legs.

Instead, hundreds of pale, human like hands twitched and grasped at the air, some fresh, some decayed down to the bone. They curled and flexed, as if desperate to hold onto something.

And the deeper one ventured into the jungle, the worse it became.

The sounds weren't just animalistic.

They were human.

Cries. Whispers. Soft, distorted laughter that echoed from places where no one should be.

The deeper into the jungle—the more it felt like something was watching.

Like the forest itself was alive.

Waiting.

Hungry.

The jungle breathed.

The air was thick, clogged with moisture and the scent of decay. The sky, barely visible through the warped trees, was losing light.

They didn't have much time.

Johnathan and Kacey crouched near the withered corpse of a tree, a crumpled piece of paper held tightly in Johnathan's shaking hands. The rule book.

His eyes scanned the words.

Every sentence sounded worse than the last.

Rule Book – Phase 15: The Hunting Grounds

1) You have entered the Forest of Beasts.

2) Survival is not guaranteed.

3) The creatures do not need to eat.

4) They hunt for the sake of hunting.

5) Daylight keeps them restrained. They stalk, they observe, but they do not kill.

6) When night falls, they become ruthless.

7) You are not meant to survive here.

Objective: Find the exit before the night begins.

Johnathan exhaled sharply, his grip on the paper tightening.

"Yeah. Nope. We are getting the hell out of here. Now."

Kacey, crouched beside him, didn't respond immediately.

Her eyes weren't on the paper. They were on the trees.

Watching. Calculating.

Johnathan knew that look.

She wasn't just scared. She was understanding.

And that? That scared him more.

"Kacey." He nudged her. "Did you hear me?"

She finally spoke, her voice calm, too calm.

"This place isn't normal."

Johnathan snorted. "Oh, really? What gave it away? The human-faced moths or the giant hand-centipede?"

Kacey ignored him, her fingers trailing along the mud-like ground.

It twitched beneath her touch.

"The creatures don't eat," she murmured, reading over the rule book again. "They hunt… but not to survive."

She glanced at him.

"That means they hunt for sport."

Johnathan's stomach dropped.

That phrase made everything so much worse.

He forced a grin, but it was thin, fake.

"Cool. So we're in an open-world horror game where the AI doesn't have a hunger bar. Love that for us."

Kacey exhaled. "Johnathan."

Her tone was sharp.

He wasn't taking this seriously.

And he knew it.

He ran a hand through his messy, sweat-drenched hair, forcing a breath out.

"Look, I know I sound like I'm messing around, but trust me, I get it. I do."

He pointed to the sky.

"The sun is dropping. We don't have time to sit here and analyze this. We need to move. Now."

Kacey hesitated.

Not because she didn't agree—she did. But because she could see it in him.

He was trying to act solid.

Trying to act unshaken.

But his hand was gripping his wrist too tightly.

His breath was just a little too controlled.

He was scared.

She was too.

But she had a feeling—if she let him see that, he'd break.

So instead, she nodded.

"Alright."

Johnathan let out a breath. "Thank you. Finally."

He crumpled the rule book into his pocket, glancing around.

The jungle was already getting darker.

The creatures were already getting bolder.

And their only goal?

Escape. Before night falls.

The deeper they moved into the jungle, the more their hearts pounded.

Not because they were being hunted.

Not yet.

But because the creatures were still here.

Watching.

Lurking.

Silent.

Johnathan and Kacey forced themselves to stay calm.

The rulebook was clear—they wouldn't attack during the day.

But that didn't mean they weren't dangerous.

As they stepped carefully over twisted roots and damp earth, something shifted in the trees.

Johnathan froze.

Kacey stopped breathing.

A moth, as large as a dog, clung to the bark of a rotting tree, its tattered wings twitching.

Its face—human-like, twisted, jaw unhinged— turned toward them.

A soft, breathy sound escaped from it.

Like a whisper.

"Go back."

Johnathan's blood ran cold.

His fingers twitched toward Kacey's wrist. "Keep walking. Don't stop."

She nodded, both of them moving past it as quickly as possible.

A few minutes later—another creature.

This time, one of the scorpions.

It was only a few feet away, its massive pincers twitching, its tail slowly dripping venom onto the ground, burning through the leaves.

Johnathan and Kacey pressed their backs against a tree, standing completely still.

The scorpion didn't react.

It simply walked past them, its lifeless, glassy eyes staring ahead.

Johnathan let out a slow, shaky breath. "This place is a goddamn nightmare."

Kacey whispered, "They don't care about us… yet."

They kept moving.

After nearly twenty minutes of walking, the jungle was getting darker.

The sky was fading into orange hues, the sun sinking further.

Kacey was carefully examining the bark of a tree, looking for clues to an exit when Johnathan bent down to pick up something strange.

It was a fragment of wood.

Carved.

Like a signpost that had been broken.

His pulse quickened. "Kacey, I think I found—"

A sudden, violent screech ripped through the trees.

Johnathan jerked backward, his heart slamming into his ribs.

Kacey spun around, wide-eyed. "What the—"

A massive, centipede-like creature suddenly lunged from a tree trunk, its hundred human hands reaching—grabbing—twitching toward them.

Johnathan tripped, falling back.

Kacey yanked him up instantly, both of them stumbling away as the creature stopped.

It simply stared at them.

Its many hands flexed.

But it didn't chase.

It just... watched.

Kacey's breath was ragged. "It's not attacking."

Johnathan, still trying to slow his heartbeat, muttered, "Yeah, well, it nearly made me piss myself."

He exhaled deeply. "Screw this place."

After catching their breath, they focused again.

The carved wood Johnathan found?

It had something etched into it.

A symbol.

An arrow. Pointing west.

Kacey looked at it, then at the trees. "This is a sign. Someone left this."

Johnathan nodded, gripping it tightly. "Then that means someone found a way out before."

Their hope ignited.

They weren't wandering aimlessly.

They could make it.

Kacey looked at the sky—it was turning red.

The sun was going down.

Johnathan swallowed hard, looking at her. "We have to move. Now."

Kacey nodded. "Then let's go."

And with that—they ran.

Racing against the dying light.

The room was silent.

The only sounds were the faint rustling of supplies and Johnathan's slow, pained breathing.

He lay on the bed, his bloodied shirt removed, revealing deep gashes, bruises, and raw, torn skin. Ivy worked swiftly but carefully, her hands steady as she cleaned his wounds, her expression unreadable.

Nathan and Lena were by her side, assisting where needed.

Nathan held Johnathan's arm, keeping it steady as Ivy wrapped a bandage tightly around a particularly nasty wound.

Lena organized the medical supplies, grabbing whatever Ivy needed next before she even asked.

Kacey sat on the edge of a chair, tense.

Her hands were clasped together, her fingers gripping each other so tightly they had gone white.

Her legs bounced slightly, a nervous habit.

She was trying to keep it together.

But Ethan and Alice?

They could see it.

Something was off.

Something was wrong.

Whatever had happened after she and Johnathan went in that direction—it wasn't good.

Samuel, standing near the foot of the bed, finally broke the silence.

His voice was calm, but firm. "Kacey."

She flinched slightly, her eyes snapping toward him.

He met her gaze. "What happened next?"

The entire group leaned in slightly.

They were listening.

Waiting.

Even the ones who had been hesitant before now hung onto every word.

Because this wasn't just a story anymore.

This was a warning.

Kacey exhaled, her hands still gripping each other tightly.

She licked her lips, trying to find the words.

And then, finally—she spoke.

And the story continued.

"We followed the path," she said, her voice steady but hollow. "We thought we were going to exit this phase."

She swallowed. "Or at least… that's what we thought."

The room remained deathly still.

And then—

The darkness of the jungle.

The distant screeches.

The feeling of being watched.

Johnathan and Kacey ran through the twisted forest, breath ragged, hearts pounding against their ribs. The broken signpost still clenched in Johnathan's hand.

And the sun—

It was sinking fast.

They had to keep moving.

They ran.

Fast.

The sun kept dropping, shadows stretching, but they had already picked up the pace. Confidence surged in their veins. They had crossed the jungle smoothly, identified the hint—they had this.

For the first time since stepping into this nightmare, they felt good.

And then—they saw it.

A door.

It stood tall in the middle of the jungle, untouched by the rotting vegetation, by the grotesque creatures that lurked in the dark. It was impossibly smooth, dark wood polished to an unnatural sheen. Strange carvings lined the frame, twisting into symbols they didn't recognize.

But instinct screamed at them—

This was the exit.

Kacey's breath hitched. "Woah."

Johnathan glanced at her. "Woah?"

She shook her head slightly, eyes scanning the massive frame. "It's like… a door straight out of a fictional movie."

Johnathan huffed out a small laugh. "Can't relate. Never been into movies."

Kacey scoffed. "That explains a lot."

"Oh? And what's that supposed to mean?" he smirked.

Kacey crossed her arms, giving him a side-eye. "You don't have a frame of reference for anything. It's like talking to a caveman who never evolved past fire."

Johnathan gasped dramatically. "That is an outrageous accusation. I have culture, thank you very much."

Kacey raised an eyebrow. "Name one book you've read."

"Pfft. Easy. 'Surviving the Nightmare Jungle: A Johnathan Original.'"

She exhaled sharply, almost—almost—laughing before catching herself. "That doesn't count."

"Still a book."

"No, it's not."

He grinned but didn't push further.

For a moment, it almost felt normal.

But then reality crashed back in.

They were standing in front of a door in a nightmare jungle, and time was running out.

Johnathan exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Well? Shall we?"

Kacey gave one last glance at the carvings, then nodded. "Yeah. Let's get the hell out of here."

And together—they stepped forward.