[Defense Shield Remaining Time: 2 Hours 45 Minutes.]
The red numbers on the phone screen pulsed in the darkness like a pair of indifferent eyes counting down to my death.
I sat paralyzed on the cold lobby floor for a full fifteen minutes before I could barely accept this screwed-up reality:
First, this isn't a dream. Second, my Great-Uncle who went missing ten years ago really did leave me an inheritance, but he also conveniently dumped a debt of one hundred million on me. Third, if I don't find a way to save myself in the next two-plus hours, I'll become a midnight snack for the "Data Waste" outside.
"Huff... Calm down, Lynn. You need to calm down."
I forced myself to stand up and dusted off my butt. As a corporate drone who used to work as a QA tester for a big tech company, my biggest strength is my mental stability (after all, I was tortured by product managers every day).
Since the system calls this a "hotel," logically there should be some supplies, right? Even a broom is better than bare hands.
Using the weak backlight of my phone, I began to fumble around this haunted house-like lobby.
It was simply too dark. No electricity, no lights. Only the flickering, broken neon sign outside occasionally cast a sliver of eerie red light through the shattered windows, elongating the shadows of the furniture in the lobby so they looked like ghosts crouching in the corners.
"Is anyone there? ...Or any ghosts?"
I tentatively called out. My voice echoed in the lobby with a hollow resonance.
No response. Only that broken humidifier (or whatever device it was) in the corner emitting intermittent zzzt sounds, which was incredibly annoying.
I fumbled my way toward the staircase.
According to common sense, the first floor is the lobby, and the second floor should be guest rooms. Guest rooms might have bed sheets (to make ropes), kettles (to use as blunt weapons), or... at least a toilet where I could hide.
However, when I reached the staircase, I was dumbfounded.
The spiral wooden staircase that should have led to the second floor was broken in the middle.
Not broken as in smashed, but... broken as in data loss.
The lower half of the stairs was still there, but at the tenth step, the upper part vanished into thin air. In its place was a patch of pixelated blocks floating in the air, flashing with blue light.
I picked up a wooden plank and threw it. The plank passed right through the pixel blocks and fell straight into the void, not even making a sound.
"Good lord... Is the map not fully loaded?"
I looked at the broken staircase and couldn't help but complain, "Uncle, it's one thing for your hotel to be an unfinished building, but did you have to cut corners on the modeling too?"
The way up was cut off. This meant I was trapped on the first floor lobby, this wide-open area with zero cover.
Fear surged up again like a tidal wave.
I turned around and spun in the lobby like a headless fly.
Behind the counter? Empty. Nothing but a rotten ledger and that broken computer. Under the sofa? Empty. Only a few dead rats (which looked like some kind of low-poly texture, all square and blocky). In the flower pots? Only withered vines.
Time ticked by, second by second. The countdown turned to [00:58:00].
Less than an hour left.
The banging outside had stopped, but that made me even more afraid. Because that hair-raising "grinding teeth sound" was getting clearer, as if countless mouths were breathing right against the cracks of the door.
I could even smell a rotting stench seeping in.
"It's over. I'm really going to turn into a loot box right after spawning..."
I leaned desperately against the corner of the wall, clutching the signal-less phone tightly, feeling like a death row inmate awaiting execution.
Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed something in the shadowy corner.
It was a red metal box hanging on the wall, covered in thick dust and spiderwebs.
A Fire Hydrant Box!
My eyes lit up. I rushed over like a drowning man grabbing a straw.
According to fire safety regulations (though I didn't know if this hellhole followed any laws), there should be a fire extinguisher inside, or...
I used my sleeve to wipe the dust off the glass vigorously.
By the weak light of my phone, I saw what was inside.
No fire extinguisher. Only a solitary red fire axe with yellow insulating tape wrapped around the handle.
It hung there quietly. Although there was some rust on the blade, it still reflected a cold chill in the darkness.
At that moment, I felt it was dearer to me than any legendary divine weapon.
Crash!
I didn't bother looking for a key. I took off my suit jacket, wrapped it around my fist, and punched through the glass.
Glass shards scattered all over the floor. I reached in and grabbed the axe.
Heavy. Very heavy. It weighed at least five or six pounds.
But this heavy weight gave me an unprecedented sense of security. This wasn't virtual data; this was solid physical rules!
I pulled the axe out and swung it twice, creating a whooshing wind sound.
"Alright then."
I took a deep breath, gripped the axe handle tightly, and gritted my teeth at the air:
"Although there's no Starter Pack, no Grandpa in a ring, and I owe a buttload of debt... at least you gave me an axe."
"I don't care what kind of demons or ghosts are outside. You want to eat me? You'll have to ask if this guy in my hand agrees first!"
I moved a reasonably sturdy chair and sat right in the center of the lobby, facing the crumbling main door.
My phone was on my knees, screen always on.
[00:00:10] [00:00:09] ...
The final ten seconds.
I stared dead at the door, my knuckles turning white from gripping the axe so hard.
[00:00:00]
[WARNING: Defense Shield Energy Depleted.] [Security Protocol Deactivated.] [Good Luck, Administrator.]
As the line of blood-red text popped up on my phone screen, I felt some kind of "film" in the air suddenly rupture.
The cold wind that had been kept out, mixed with a strong rotting stench, instantly flooded the entire lobby.
Creak—
The wooden door I had locked not long ago let out an overwhelmed groan.
The area around the lock suddenly deformed and twisted.
Crack... Crack...
The wooden door emitted a tooth-aching fracturing sound. A gray-white hand, looking like it was breaking a biscuit, forcibly tore off a large chunk of wood from the lock area.
Then, a gray-white hand, consisting only of bones and rotting flesh, slowly, inch by inch, squeezed in through the crack of the door.
The first guest had arrived.