Sofia was a professional livestreamer. She made her living hunting for exquisite culinary gems, amassing tens of thousands of loyal followers who eagerly awaited her every adventure.
On that ill-fated day, while she was broadcasting from a popular food street, the world suddenly tilted. The air distorted like a heat mirage, and before she could even scream, she and dozens of other pedestrians were sucked into a spatial rift.
The moment they landed in this alien dimension, the nightmare began. Several people were instantly swallowed by camouflaged horrors—insect-like monsters that lay flat against the ground, their carapaces perfectly mimicking the color of the dirt. To the untrained eye, they were mere mounds of earth—until someone stepped on them. In the blink of an eye, bloody maws would snap shut, and the victim would vanish to the sickening crunch of bone.
Panic exploded. Witnessing the carnage, Sofia was hit by a cold, hard reality. She remembered the rumors of "Spatial Rifts" she had once dismissed as hoaxes. Now, staring at the blood spattered on the soil, she knew the truth: every gruesome post she had ever scrolled past was real.
"Help! Monsters!"
"Mama, I want my mama! Someone save us!"
"This is the Abyss of Despair... it's over! We're all dead!"
Screams of agony filled the air. Fear felt like a physical weight, paralyzing the mind. Sofia's face was deathly pale; her natural beauty now seemed fragile, making her look like a tragic masterpiece in the middle of this hell. Her heart hammered against her ribs with feral intensity, and her palms were so slick with cold sweat that her phone nearly slipped from her grasp. But here, no one cared about beauty. Everyone was too busy wondering if their next step would land them in the mouth of a beast.
"Are we just going to stay here and wait to die?" a young man stammered among the shivering group.
"This place is too close to the nest," an older man said, his voice grim. "We have to move."
They decided to keep walking. But as they crossed the endless, barren wasteland, people began to vanish without a sound. One moment someone was walking beside you; the next, there was only empty space. The silence of the barrens was louder than any scream.
Suddenly, a thick white mist rolled in, swallowing their vision.
Clang! Clang! Boom!
The rhythmic thunder of gongs and drums shattered the silence. Driven by a mix of terror and desperate hope, they followed the sound through the fog. Soon, the silhouette of a massive structure loomed. It was a stage.
Grand, ornate, and utterly out of place. Heavy velvet curtains were drawn tight before rows of clean wooden seats—an open-air auditorium waiting for an audience. As they approached, the drumming reached a deafening climax.
Sofia wanted to turn back. Her instincts screamed that this place was far more dangerous than the insect monsters. But a man named Alex, driven by reckless desperation, stepped inside. "Maybe there's a way out here... some kind of clue."
The moment Alex's foot touched the seating area, the drums stopped instantly.
The air froze. The silence that fell was so absolute that the sound of their own breathing felt like a saw cutting through the stillness. No one dared to move, not even to blink.
Then, a raspy, charismatic voice echoed through the air—a voice that sounded far too cheerful for such a deathly place, creating an eerie dissonance that made their skin crawl.
"Everyone, everyone, everyone... the performance is about to begin."
The survivors flinched. But the true horror came when their bodies stopped obeying them. Their legs moved on their own, marching them toward the auditorium in a stiff, synchronized rhythm. Sofia felt her lungs constrict, her breath hitching in her throat as she was forced to walk against her will. One by one, they were forced into the seats, like marionettes whose strings had been snapped into place by an invisible master.
**[Ding! Subversion Value +330!]**
Kayy felt a sharp, cold current of energy begin to fill his soul.
Then, the curtains swept open.
Boom!
In the center of the stage, golden lotuses bloomed at an impossible speed, followed by bursts of flame erupting from their petals. Amidst the rising smoke, a figure emerged wearing a magician's suit and a harlequin mask.
"I rise from the filth and the mire. I am the burning green lotus. I am the beauty beyond compare."
He stood alone in the center of the stage as the lotuses withered, as if his very presence was draining the life from the world.
"Ladies and Gentlemen..."
The masked figure tilted his head at an unnatural angle, as if his neck lacked a single bone. "The Illusionist is here. The show is about to begin."
The audience trembled. In their eyes, the man on stage was no longer just a human, but an uncanny entity flaunting his madness with a voice that coiled around them like a snake.
"Let me think... what should I say? I always feel nervous before a show. But that feeling is quite important, isn't it?"
He spread his arms, pointing toward the rows of terrified survivors. "I must give a perfect performance. My theater is called the 'Puppet Theater.' And you... you are more than just an audience. You are my actors."
The Illusionist bowed with old-world elegance. Sofia, sitting in the front row, still clutched her trembling phone. The screen was still on—but her broadcast had been completely severed since they were dragged into this place. There was no signal, no viewers—only the darkness recording the artist's madness in silence.
The figure reached out his hand, his fingers beginning to dance with a haunting agility. In the auditorium, five people suddenly snapped upright against their will.
"These are my puppets," the figure whispered, his voice creeping into every corner of the room like a cold breath in the ear. "And if I pull the strings... they will... dance."