Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The cafeteria buzzed with the lively hum of chattering voices, footsteps, and the soft clinking of utensils as the first break of the day was announced. It was well-earned—everyone had worked hard, as always, and this was their moment to relax, recharge, and share a meal with friends and colleagues.

Builderman was no exception, of course. He stood in line, waiting for his turn to grab lunch from the Lunchador—perhaps lingering a little longer than intended, as a fellow admin, Shedletsky, stood in front of him, gesturing animatedly and waving a hand in front of his face.

“Hello?” he called out, “Earth to Builderman?”

The voice snapped the latter out of his daze, and he immediately turned to face Shedletsky with a confused look on his face. Then, glancing behind him, he noticed the long line of people waiting patiently—a faint blush creeping up his face in embarrassment.

“How long have I been standing here, exactly…?” Builderman asked, his tone nervous as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Shedletsky turned back to the line ahead of him, a sigh escaping his lips. “About five minutes. If I were behind you, I’d probably have yelled for you to move. These people are hungry, man.” He crossed his arms, huffing in annoyance.

Builderman could only look ahead, an apologetic yet worried, wary look on his face. “Sorry for that… Been thinkin’ about the reports we’ve been getting lately. You must be dealing with it too, right?”

“Uh, duh. I’m an admin. Of course I deal with that stuff.” The line moved, and so did Shedletsky and Builderman. “Though now that you mention it, it feels like these reports are…”

He leaned closer to Builderman for good measure. “Just more than bugs and glitches…”

Of course, hearing that from Shedletsky, Builderman froze, his eyes wide in shock and disbelief. “Wait- wait, what do you mean more than—”

“Oh! Builderman and Shedletsky!” The lunchador’s voice cut in, welcoming and cheerful. “What can I get for you two? And I’m guessing two chicken legs with a side of potatoes for you, John?”

Shedletsky beamed in excitement as the lunchador guessed exactly what he was gonna order. “You know me pal!”

Builderman couldn’t help but chuckle in amusement, shaking his head. “That’s nice. I’ll uh… have a burger, a slice of pizza, and two cans of bloxy cola please.”

“Very well! Just a moment, good sirs!” The lunchador saluted the two as he went on ahead to prepare their meals.

“That guy knows me too well. And I don’t even know his name! I like him. I want him to serve me a bucket of chicken every Friday from now on!” Shedletsky smirked, confident and wide.

“Slow down, buckaroo. Unless you’re gonna pay him extra for that kind of request then we’re not having the HQ’s favorite lunchador work for ya.”

“I’ll pay him extra alright! Hell, I could give him one of my Bloxy Awards!”

Builderman rolled his eyes, burying his hands in his pockets. “Suit yourself."

The lunchador reappeared at the counter’s edge, balancing two gleaming trays like a master juggler.

“Feast your eyes, gentlemen!” he announced, setting the trays before them. “For Shedletsky, two crispy chicken legs nestled beside a generous scoop of buttery mashed potatoes. And for Builderman, one double-stacked burger dripping with cheese, a hefty slice of pepperoni pizza, and two ice-cold cans of Bloxy Cola.”

Shedletsky’s eyes lit up. “You nailed it again! How do you do this?”

The lunchador winked. “A little lunchroom magic and a lot of practice.” He then slipped an extra chicken leg onto Shedletsky’s plate. “Compliments of the day. Consider it a token of appreciation.”

Builderman raised his cola in a mock toast. “Now that’s how you win friends. Appreciate it, man.”

“Seriously,” Shedletsky added, already grabbing his tray. “You deserve a raise and a Bloxy Award.”

With a final salute from the lunchador, the two admins turned and made their way across the bustling cafeteria, weaving past tables of devs and testers until they found a quiet corner booth near the window.

Shedletsky slid into the seat with a satisfied sigh. “This is the spot. Feels like the kind of place where you can eat mashed potatoes and plot world domination.”

Builderman chuckled, popping open the can of Bloxy Cola he held. “Or at least figure out what’s going on with those weird reports.”

They clinked their cans together, trays full and minds buzzing—not just with food, but with the kind of camaraderie that made even bug reports feel a little less heavy.

Still,even as they ate in peace, Builderman couldn’t shake off the feeling that something would eventually go wrong. Sooner or later, maybe. He unwrapped his burger slowly—the hesitant kind of slow. And unfortunately… Shedletsky noticed it.

“... You okay, Builder?” He asked, his head tilted slightly as he chewed on a drumstick.

“I… It just doesn’t seem right, Shed. From what I’ve read—Robloxians disappearing?? There’s multiple ways someone can vanish, sure, but this… I can’t help but think.” He bit into his burger, but even that tasted bland. Or maybe it was just him.

“Well—should we... try to… I don’t know—tell Roblox?”

Builderman nearly choked on his burger, coughing once before swallowing hard. “You think I haven’t already emailed him about it? What worries me is that he didn’t even respond. No read receipt, no auto-reply. Nothing.” He wiped his mouth, eyes narrowing. “I’m going to talk to him. Face to face.”

Shedletsky leaned back, the last bite of his drumstick forgotten in his hand. “That’s... not normal. He always replies. Even if it’s just a thumbs-up emoji.”

Builderman nodded slowly, his fingers tightening around the cola can. “Exactly. And if he’s ignoring this, it means either he doesn’t want to talk—or he can’t.”

The words hung in the air like static. Around them, the cafeteria buzzed with casual chatter, but it felt distant now. Like they were sitting in a bubble just slightly out of sync with the rest of the world.

Shedletsky lowered his voice. “You think it’s connected to the disappearances?”

Builderman didn’t answer right away. He stared at his half-eaten burger, then pushed the tray aside. “I don’t know. But I’m done waiting for a reply. After lunch, I’m heading to his office.”

Shedletsky nodded, serious now. “Then I’m coming with you.

“…But first,” he added with a wink, “Let me finish my food. Can’t waste good chicken nowadays, amirite?” He polished off a drumstick and casually picked up another, unfazed by the weight of the conversation.

Builderman scoffed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Of course, even at times like these, Shedletsky would still be himself. That was comforting. Familiar.

Yet… even with that—

The tension lingered. Quiet. Heavy. Unspoken.

The cafeteria doors shut behind them with a soft thud, sealing off the buzz of lunchtime chatter.

Outside, the hallway stretched ahead—long, sterile, too quiet. Builderman’s boots echoed against polished tile, each step slicing through the silence. Shedletsky followed close, his usual swagger dulled by the weight of what they were walking into.

The air felt wrong. Not cold. Just... still. Like the building itself was holding its breath.

They passed familiar rooms—Design, QA, Community Management—but none looked right. Desks abandoned mid-task. Monitors glowing idle. A coffee mug lay shattered outside Studio Ops, its contents dried into a sticky smear. No one had cleaned it up.

Shedletsky broke the silence. “You ever get that feeling like you’re walking into a place you shouldn’t be?”

Builderman didn’t answer. He just kept walking.

The hallway narrowed as they neared the executive wing. Lights overhead flickered once, then steadied. A low hum vibrated through the walls—maybe the AC. Maybe not.

Roblox’s office door loomed ahead. Heavy. Closed.

Builderman stopped. His hand hovered near the handle, fingers tense.

Shedletsky glanced around, brows creased together in worry. “No security. No assistant. No sign of life.”

Builderman nodded. “Then we knock.”

He didn’t.

He opened the door.

The weight of it hit them instantly. Builderman, who’d spent countless hours here—sending reports, chatting with Roblox—felt it most. This wasn’t the same room.

This wasn’t a room at all.

It was wreckage.

Walls torn open, ceiling collapsed, floor cracked and bleeding. Wind swept through the ruins, carrying dust, static, and the stench of something wrong.

Builderman stepped in first. Shedletsky followed, silent.

They didn’t speak.

Roblox hung from a cable, suspended midair like a broken marionette. One forearm was missing—ripped off, wires and bone exposed. Blood dripped steadily to the floor, pooling beneath him in a slow, deliberate spiral.

A sword was buried in his chest.

Darkheart.  

Its blade pulsed faintly, glitching at the edges. Around the wound, his torso was torn open—ribcage exposed, organs spilling out in a mess of blood and corrupted data. Some flickered. Some twitched. Some didn’t look human anymore.

Carved into his face—An R, drawn with the blade. Deep. Cruel.

Builderman stared. “He’s…”

Shedletsky didn’t finish the sentence.

Then—a scream. Far off—still inside the HQ—chaos was already stirring. 

Builderman didn't move though, eyes locked on Roblox—on the blood, the sword, the slow, pulsing glitch. It didn't register when Shedletsky was calling out to him—his voice blurred, replaced with loud ringing that only got louder by the second. His hands shook. His breath caught. He took one step forward, then stopped. 

“W-when did this happen? Why weren't we alarmed? Why didn't—”

But he was cut short as Shedletsky grabbed onto his shoulder, turned him around, and shook him hard enough to break the trance. “Can you worry about that later?! I'm pretty sure the HQ is being attacked right now and we're doing nothing! Snap out of this, Builder!”

He blinked, nodded once, and the Banhammer materialized in his grip. Shedletsky unsheathed the WINDFORCE tucked in his belt, gripping the hilt tight.

Together, they ran. Out of the ruins. Into the unknown. Toward whatever was left.

Chapter Text

“Nice view, isn’t it?”

Two figures were perched atop a castle, the stone still holding the day’s warmth. One sat with legs crossed, notebook clutched close like it might catch the last light. The other—Noob—stood with his chin tilted to the horizon, the fading sun painting him gold.

With a small sigh, Noob lowered himself beside the other, back pressing against the cool wall.

“This whole… ‘watching the sun set’ thing’s making me think—like a lot. Like…” His eyes flicked over. “How the sun just casts that warm glow on your face. Makes you look… more peaceful. Y’know?”

Guest4079—or just Guest for short—was staring at Noob, expression unreadable. He slowly looked down at his lap, opening his notebook and untucking the pen from between the pages. The pen hovered for a moment before sliding smoothly across the paper.

Noob tilted his head, trying to peek without being too obvious.

Guest turned the notebook just enough for him to see. In neat, careful handwriting, it read: “ Are you sure we’re just here to watch sunsets, or do you want to take me out on a date? ” A little doodled winky face sat smugly beside the question.

Noob froze, eyes going wide. “Wha—?!”

His cheeks lit up immediately, and he almost toppled backward from how fast he leaned away. “Th-that’s not—! I wasn’t—!” His words tripped over themselves, coming out in a jumble as he frantically waved his hands.

Guest tilted his head, watching him like one might watch a cat panic at its own reflection.

“I just thought… sunsets are pretty, okay?!” Noob squeaked, hugging his knees like it would shield him from the smug little winky face staring up at him from the page. “You can’t just—just write stuff like that! That’s cheating!”

Guest didn’t say a word, but his eyes glinted with quiet amusement as he slid the notebook back onto his lap, as if the conversation was over.

Noob let out a small, pouty “hmph,” turning away from Guest and hugging his knees tighter. Still, the words kept echoing in his head. Take him out on a date? Oh, that’d be… kinda nice. Delightful, even. But—
What would people think? A noob with a guest? Judgment wasn’t something Noob handled well. He was already picked on for being a “dummy.”

His mood dulled, shoulders sinking as his arms loosened their hold on his legs. A faintly disappointed look settled on his face without him even realizing. He didn’t notice that Guest was watching him again, head tilted slightly in curiosity, like they were trying to read his mind.

Soon, the quiet was filled with the faint scratch of pen against paper. Noob ignored it, stubbornly staring at the ground. Then came a gentle tap on his shoulder.

“What is it?” he asked, forcing his expression into something vaguely neutral as he turned to face them.

Guest’s lips were pressed in a small frown, notebook already angled toward him.

In careful handwriting, the words read: “ Are you okay? Did I say something wrong? ” Beside it, a little sad face sat with drooping eyes and a wobbly mouth.

Noob blinked, the heaviness in his chest tugged at by the doodle’s pitiful expression. “...Oh,” he mumbled, feeling suddenly guilty. “No, you didn’t… I’m just…” He trailed off, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “It’s stupid.”

Guest tilted their head a little more, pen still in hand, waiting. The silence stretched—not uncomfortably, but with that quiet weight that made Noob squirm.

Finally, Guest scribbled again and turned the notebook toward him: “ It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you. You can tell me. ” 

Noob bit his lip. He wanted to just shrug it off, but… the way Guest was looking at him—patient, curious, not judging—made it harder to hide behind his usual playfulness.

“It’s just…” He pulled his knees closer again. “People already make fun of me for being, y’know… me. A noob. And you’re a guest. If we… hung out like that, everyone would talk. I don’t… I don’t like when people talk.”

He expected Guest to write something teasing, but instead their expression softened. They took a moment, pen moving slower this time, before turning the notebook around.

“ I don’t care what they think. You’re fun to be with. That’s all that matters. ” Beside it was another doodle—this time of a smiling face with two thumbs up.

Guest closed the notebook and, without a word, shuffled just close enough for their shoulder to bump against Noob’s. It wasn’t much, but it was steady—like they were saying I’m here without writing it down.

Noob blinked at the contact, then let out a small sigh he didn’t realize he was holding.

In the background were simply Robloxians chattering, laughing, playing with one another. The atmosphere was one of a calm, peaceful vibe. Well, that’s how it is in Crossroads. Always.

Suddenly—like the air itself had shifted—the background chatter fractured into uneasy murmurs. The peace of Crossroads wavered.

Noob and Guest barely noticed… until a sharp metallic whir sliced through the air.

The map began to stutter. Studs snapped into wrong places. Walls bent and warped. Above, the bright blue sky bled into a deep, angry red, clouds churning black as the void.

Noob’s chest tightened. Beside him, Guest’s head lifted just as a glitchy, mechanical voice crackled across the sky—each word breaking, reforming, glitching mid-echo:

“R0BL0X14... H4D 1T5 5P0TL1GHT. XPL01TS. 4N0M4L13S. F4LS3 MYTH5—T3RM1N4T3D. 4LL D0N3 BY Y0UR CR34T0R.”

Confusion rippled through the plaza. Murmurs rose. Some Robloxians froze, listening. Others fled, sensing something was deeply wrong.

Noob and Guest was one of those who remained, gazing up at the sky as it bled crimson all over Crossroads. They exchanged looks, contemplating whether to stay or leave as the others have done. 

The voice continued, louder now, layered with static:

“Y0U TH0UGHT D4NG3R W4S G0N3, R3ASSUR3D BY TH3 EXISTANCE 0F TH3 HEADQUARTERS, TH3 ADMINS. T0LD 3V3RYTH1NG W4S F1N3.

Y3T N0N3 H4D R3AL1ZED 1T W4S A LIE, A F4C4DE T0 H1DE TH3IR M1ST4KES. TH31R W0RR1ES. TH31R W34KN3SS.”

“What are they trying to say...?” Noob whispered to Guest, who only shrugged—clueless like he was too. 

From the crowd, two more questioned:
“Is there something the Admins aren’t telling us?”  
“Who even is this guy?”

The voice sharpened, venomous now:

“TH3 W0RST 0F TH31R WR0NGS… Y0UR CR34T0R. 4 C0W4RD. H3 TH0UGHT D3L3T1NG BUGS W0ULD M4K3 4 P3RF3CT W0RLD. H3 W4S WR0NG. H3 W4S F00L1SH.

4ND N0W... H3 H4NGS BY H1S 0WN C0D3.”

A holographic projection burst into view above the plaza—first a shadow, then details sharpening: a tall figure in a red scarf, Domino Crown catching the corrupted light.

The image glitched—then shifted.

Now it showed a body hanging from the ceiling.

There's no mistaking that cap—the cap that reads 'ROBLOX' on it. Then Noob realized who it was as his breath caught. 

It was him.

The Creator.

Dead.

From somewhere in the crowd, a voice cracked through the tension:
“W-wait— isn’t that Roblox? As in… the Roblox?! Oh my swords— WE’RE DOOME—”

The shout cut off in a wet, abrupt shhk!

Heads turned just in time to see the speaker’s head roll, their body collapsing like a ragdoll onto the warped ground.

Silence fell. Stunned. Breathless.

Far beyond the body, a lone figure stood. One arm raised, fingers still curling from the strike.Their skin was fractured like glass, glowing green light seeping through the cracks. Their face was a mask of static and glitch, features shifting too fast to catch. Smoke and streams of binary curled from their hand, twisting in the air like something alive.

Screams tore through the air, one after another, until they were drowned out by the sounds of death—blades slicing, bodies collapsing, the sickening crunch of studs and limbs breaking apart. Robloxians fell in ways too many to count, too many to comprehend.

Noob and Guest were on their feet now, the castle’s height giving them a full view of the chaos below. Noob’s chest heaved, panic clawing at the back of his throat—until Guest’s hand clamped down on his shoulder. A quick, firm shake of the head.

Fear won’t get us out of here.

Even so, Guest’s grip was trembling. They clung to him a little too tight, eyes wide with urgency—expecting him to decide their next move.

Something in Noob clicked. His breathing slowed. His gaze swept the battlefield below, scanning for any break in the slaughter. And then—there. An open stretch, just past the collapsing wall on the far side.

He swallowed hard, reaching for Guest’s hand.
“Don’t let go of me, okay?”

Guest squeezed his hand once.

Then they ran.

They tore down the castle steps, the sound of chaos chasing them like a storm. The air felt heavier the closer they got to the ground—thick with smoke, glitch static, and the coppery tang of deletion.

Everywhere, Robloxians scattered in blind panic. Noob kept his grip on Guest’s hand so tight his knuckles ached, weaving them through the stampede. Studs warped underfoot, chunks of terrain rising or vanishing without warning, forcing them to jump gaps or skirt sudden pits.

The main plaza was a blur—screams, glitch bursts, collapsing structures. They ducked past a toppled archway and sprinted for the far wall, hearts hammering.

A final push. The warped boundary bricks gave way to grass and dirt, the air outside sharp and cold.

They didn’t stop running until the sounds of Crossroads faded into a distant, distorted roar.

Only when they were standing on the outskirts, chests heaving, hands still clasped—did Noob realize they’d made it out alive.

Guest didn’t let go right away. They staggered forward a few more steps before their knees buckled, the momentum carrying them into the trunk of a nearby tree. They slid down against it, gasping.

“Guest—!” Noob dropped beside them, scanning for injuries. But there was no blood, no damage—just exhaustion.

Of course. Guests didn’t get infinite stamina. Not like Noob, not like the others.

“You’re okay,” Noob murmured, steadying them by the shoulders. “You’re okay… just breathe.”

Guest managed a faint nod, eyes half-lidded. Their grip on Noob’s sleeve was weak now, but still there.

Noob glanced back at Crossroads. The sky over it still churned red and black. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t over.

Chapter Text

This Chapter takes place BEFORE the Prologue. 

``[ LOCATION: RUINED HQ — LOBBY ]``

The lounge was dim, lit only by the flicker of a broken ceiling panel and the soft glow of a corrupted monitor looping static. C00lkidd sat slouched on a worn couch, one leg draped over the armrest, a knife spinning lazily between his fingers. The blade caught the light with each rotation, a rhythmic glint that matched the quiet hum of the broken screen nearby.

Drakobloxxer lay curled beside the couch, tail tucked close, eyes glowing faintly. He watched the blade with quiet interest, head tilted just slightly—like he was trying to read C00lkidd’s mood, or maybe the tension in the air itself.

“Kill Roblox and leave him dangling like a glitchy scarecrow,” C00lkidd muttered, voice low and bitter. “That’s the plan? That’s what 1x thinks will make people listen?”

He flicked the knife upward, caught it by the hilt, then stabbed it into the armrest beside him. The sound was dull, but final. “It’s not a warning. It’s a tantrum dressed up as a revolution.”

Drakobloxxer growled softly—not aggressive, just uneasy. The kind of sound that said he didn’t like where this was going.

C00lkidd leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes locked on the monitor’s static. “We’re supposed to be the future. But all I see is a bunch of corrupted egos playing god.”

A voice cut through the silence, smooth and sharp.

“Oh? Speaking of our leader now, are we?”

Guest666 stepped into the room, arms folded, coat trailing behind her like smoke. Her eyes gleamed with quiet amusement, but her tone was ice. She didn’t look angry—yet. Just interested. Dangerous.

“What about you, genius? Got a better plan?”

C00lkidd didn’t look at her. “Yeah. Not leaving a corpse on display like it’s a damn trophy.”

Guest666 raised an eyebrow. “You think people won’t listen unless we play nice?”

“I think people won’t listen if we look insane.”

She smirked. “And yet, you’re still here. Still spinning that little knife like it means something.”

C00lkidd’s jaw tightened. “Better than licking 1x’s boots like you do.”

Her smile vanished. The shift was subtle, but sharp. Her voice dropped.

“Careful.”

He stood up, eyes flashing. “Why? You gonna choke me again? That your go-to move now?”

Guest666 stepped closer, gaze narrowing. “Funny. Coming from someone who’d be deleted if 1x hadn’t dragged your sorry code out of Banlands.”

That hit. Hard.

C00lkidd’s face twisted, rage bubbling up. He yanked the knife from the couch and threw it—fast, reckless. It missed, embedding in the wall just inches from her head.

Guest666 didn’t flinch.

But her eyes widened—just slightly, just enough, like she didn’t expect him to snap.

C00lkidd saw it—and for a split second, he thought the knife had glitched her on contact. But no—it was her. Sudden movements always made her code crack. He thought she'd back off by then. 

She didn't. 

Because that same time, he made a mistake he was not aware of.

Her form suddenly started glitching violently. A jagged ripple tore through her silhouette, distorting her edges like corrupted data struggling to hold shape. Her fingers spasmed. Her jaw twitched.

“Wait—Guest, I didn’t mean—”

She lunged.

Her hand clamped around his throat before he could finish, and with a burst of strength, she slammed him against the wall.

“ACK—SON OF A—!”

The impact cracked the plaster. C00lkidd’s knife clattered to the floor. His breath vanished as Guest666 pressed him harder against the wall, her grip tightening with every flicker of her glitching form.

Her face was inches from his, twitching violently—eyes flickering, voice breaking into static.

“You think you can disrespect me?” she hissed, voice layered with distortion. “You think you’re safe just because 1x tolerates you?”

C00lkidd clawed at her wrist, panic overtaking defiance. “G-GUEST—STOP—! I-I'M SORRY!-”

She didn’t. Instead, her grip tightened further, the wall behind him beginning to fracture under the pressure of her grasp. 

Then—

A soft whine.

From Drakobloxxer.

He stood a few feet away, ears—or rather nubs—flattened, eyes wide. He let out another low, trembling whimper—not aggressive. Just pleading.

Guest666’s glitching slowed.

Her grip faltered.

She blinked once, twice—then released him.

C00lkidd landed on the ground with a thud, coughing and wheezing as he gasped for air. Instinctively, Drakobloxxer padded over next to him, nudging his shoulder and whining once again—a display of worry from the creature. They both took a glance at Guest666, who… stabilized.

Her chest rose and fell in jagged motions, static bleeding faintly from her outline. She steadied, pulling her coat tighter around her shoulders. No apology, no glance back—just a low hiss of distortion as she turned sharply on her heel. Each step dragged a ripple of glitch through the air, like even the walls were warping to avoid her.

Then she was gone.

The silence left behind was louder than the choking.

``[ LOCATION: RUINED HQ — BALCONY ]``

The hallway felt colder than before.

C00lkidd leaned against the railing, fingers pressed to the bruise on his throat. His breath still came uneven, like the static hadn’t left his lungs. 

The pain hadn’t fully settled, but it was there—low and throbbing, a reminder of how fast control could be taken from him. She’d choked him before. Threatened him. Shoved him around.

But not like that.

Not with glitch spasms and red eyes and static bleeding through her voice like a virus.

Drakobloxxer sat nearby, tail curled tight, ears still low. He hadn’t growled since the lounge. Just watched. Quiet. Guarded.

C00lkidd exhaled shakily, eyes scanning the horizon. The sky was still blue, but it felt… wrong. Like something was waiting to crack.

John Doe hadn’t come down from the server room in hours. Maybe he knew better.

“It’s starting...” he muttered.

A flicker.

A static pulse.

Then—

“TH3 CR34T0R H4S G0N3 S1L3NT.”

C00lkidd spun around.

The doorway warped, light bending around a shape that wasn’t there one second and was the next.

1x1x1x1 filled the frame, arms folded, body twitching in and out of corrupted data. His presence didn’t enter the hall. It erased it. The air thinned. The hum of the world went silent.

“You’ve been quiet,” C00lkidd said, trying to sound steady even though it was obvious he wasn't. 

“1’M L1ST3N1NG. TH3 W0RLD 1S CH4NG1NG.”

C00lkidd frowned. “So that’s it. You’re going through with it. Kill Roblox and leave him hanging like a glitchy scarecrow.”

“TH3Y W1LL L1ST3N WH3N TH3Y S33.”

The shadows rippled with static, crawling like veins across the walls. Drakobloxxer growled, low, but even that sound seemed swallowed.

1x1x1x1 tilted his head slightly. Not curious. Just… calculating.

C00lkidd’s fists curled. “That’s not control. That’s chaos. You’re more broken than she is.”

1x tilted his head, and for a split second, the pixels of his face smeared into nothing but a mask of raw code.

“IRR3L3VANT.”

The word struck like a blade through the air—sharp enough that the railing under C00lkidd’s hands buzzed with residual static.

He barked, louder, angrier. “Did you even see her? She nearly lost it on me!”

“IRR3L3VANT.”

The second hit harder. The glass panes on the balcony trembled, faint cracks spidering near the edges.

Silence pressed down. Heavy. Suffocating.

1x didn’t move closer. He didn’t need to. He stood in the doorway, all code and void, until the weight of him made it impossible to breathe.

Finally, he stepped back, glitching into shadow. His voice lingered even as his body dissolved.

“Y0U'LL B3 USEFUL. OR Y0U’LL B3 G0N3.”

… 

C00lkidd didn’t move.

The shadows swallowed 1x1x1x1’s form, but the static lingered—buzzing faintly in the walls, in the air, in his head. Drakobloxxer nudged his leg gently, but C00lkidd barely registered it.

His throat still burned.

His thoughts were a mess of glitch noise and red eyes and the weight of a threat that hadn’t even needed to be shouted.

He looked out at the horizon again.

The buzz stayed. In the walls. In the sky. In C00lkidd’s skull.

Drakobloxxer nudged his leg, pulling him back from the edge, but it felt like he was talking to a wall.

A wall that talked back.

Chapter Text

``[ LOCATION : GLASS HOUSES ]``

Jane walked the perimeter of Glass Houses with deliberate steps, each crunch of grass beneath her boots echoing louder than it should. Her gaze stayed locked on the sky—wide, empty, and unforgiving. Worry clung to her like static. Anxiety, too. But beneath it all, guilt. The kind that didn’t fade with time.

“Builderman…” she whispered, barely louder than the wind.

No answer. There never was.

Glass Houses had become their last refuge—if it could be called that. Buildings made of glass, brittle and echoing with every movement. Moderators, robloxians, and the final guests had gathered here, huddled in underground bunkers while the surface pretended to be safe.

Jane stood atop a hill now, watching the horizon bleed red. The clouds churned black, like something was stirring beneath them.

Then—footsteps. Fast. Uneven. Urgent.

Jane turned, instinct already bracing for bad news.

“Ms. Doe!” a survivor shouted, voice cracking from exertion. They stumbled toward her, breath ragged, eyes wide with something that looked like fear. “There’s someone at the front gate. Injured. Bad.”

Jane didn’t hesitate. “Open it.”

They sprinted together, boots thudding against brittle ground, wind slicing through the silence like a blade. The air felt heavier with each step, as if the sky itself was holding its breath.

The gate loomed ahead—tall, rusted, groaning as it creaked open.

And then she saw him.

Brickbattler.

He stood just beyond the threshold, barely upright. His arm was mangled—flesh torn, blood soaking through the fabric in jagged patterns. Scratches laced across his chest and neck, deep enough to sting, shallow enough to speak of something that didn’t want him dead. Not yet.

She caught him before he hit the ground, his weight collapsing into her arms. His breath was shallow, eyes unfocused, but still burning with something—pain, yes. But also urgency.

“Get him inside,” Jane ordered, voice sharp. “Now.”

The survivor nodded and rushed ahead, clearing the path through the glass corridors. Jane followed, half-carrying Brickbattler as his boots dragged against the floor, leaving faint streaks of blood behind.

Inside the medical bay, the light was sterile and cold. Too clean for the kind of wound he carried.

Jane didn’t waste time. She threw open a drawer, grabbed gauze, disinfectant, and a pair of rusted forceps. Brickbattler slumped onto one of the cots with a half-hearted groan.

“Jane—It’s seriously not that bad—”

“Zip it.” Jane cut him off, dragging a chair next to him. “Just because you’re some sort of warrior doesn’t mean you’re invincible. Builderman’s gonna kill you when he sees you like this, you idiot.”

His eyes widened. “Builder—? Why would he be so concerned about—”

Jane didn’t answer. She pressed the cotton to his wound, slow and deliberate. The disinfectant hissed against torn skin.

Jane pressed the cotton deeper into the wound, watching as the blood soaked through in jagged bursts. Brickbattler flinched again, his breath hitching.

“Damn it, Jane—feels like you’re digging into bone.”

“Stop whining,” she muttered, reaching for the forceps. “You’re lucky it didn’t take your whole arm.”

Brick groaned, shifting on the cot. “You sure you didn’t miss your calling as a torturer?”

Jane didn’t answer. Her eyes narrowed as she examined the bite more closely. The edges weren’t just torn—they were uneven, almost shredded. No signs of glitching. No corrupted static. Just raw damage.

She leaned back slightly, voice low.

“How’d you get this wound anyway?” she asked. “It’s not like anything I’ve seen lately. It’s more… raw. Like whoever attacked you wasn’t infected in the slightest.”

Brickbattler clicked his tongue, his gaze drifting toward the window. The horizon still bled red. “You know how there’s chaos out there? Like… everywhere?”

Jane nodded, curiosity flickering across her face.

“Well,” he began, voice low, “there’s this corruption spreading across the map. We call them the infected—or corrupted. Pale skin, green cracks all over. And depending on how they died, the spot that killed them? It glows. Like that’s where the cracks started.”

Jane leaned in slightly.

“Even worse,” Brick continued, “their faces. Glitched out. Like someone scrubbed their identity clean on purpose. You know what I mean?”

Jane raised an eyebrow. “Uh… sure.”

She reached for a fresh strip of gauze, her fingers quick and practiced. As Brick spoke, she leaned in—not just to listen, but to press the gauze firmly against the torn skin on his arm. He flinched slightly, but she didn’t pause.

“The one I encountered didn’t look like any of that,” he said, voice quieter now. “It was completely different.”

Jane glanced up briefly, her hands still working. “Different how?”

Brickbattler’s gaze drifted toward the window, wary. “The closest word I can think of is… creature.”

``[ LOCATION : RAVEN ROCK ]``

He had been patrolling Raven Rock, sword in hand. The eerie silence of the place was unnerving, but he pressed forward. His mission was clear—help anyone who might still be trapped here.

For hours, he found nothing. No Robloxians, no movement—just the oppressive quiet. Yet something didn’t sit right. His gut told him he wasn’t alone.

As he neared the entrance to Raven Rock, a low growl rumbled behind him. He froze.

“What the…? Who’s there?!”

Spinning on his heel, he raised his sword, scanning the area. Shadows danced along the jagged rocks, but nothing moved. The growl faded, replaced by silence.

His grip on the hilt tightened. “Don’t play games with me!”

The moment he lowered his guard, a deafening howl pierced the air. Before he could react, something heavy crashed into him from behind, slamming him to the ground.

“ACK—HEY! GET OFF ME!”

Brickbattler twisted onto his back, his sword coming up just in time to block a set of razor-sharp claws. His eyes widened as he got his first clear look at his attacker: Drakobloxxer. 

The creature’s glowing eyes burned with unrelenting fury. It snarled, pushing against Brickbattler’s blade with terrifying strength.

“Damn it!” he hissed, straining against the weight.

The Drakobloxxer swiped with its free claw, catching Brickbattler’s arm and tearing through his skin. A sharp pain shot through him, and he cried out, his grip faltering. Blood seeped through the fabric, staining it red.

Summoning his strength, Brickbattler managed to kick the creature off him and scramble to his feet. The Drakobloxxer lunged again, but this time he was ready. He sidestepped and slashed, the blade cutting into its side.

The creature howled, backing away for a moment to recover from the attack. But it wasn’t done yet. It lunged again, its claws raking across Brickbattler’s chest. He stumbled back, clutching the wound as pain radiated through his body.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He barely had time to think before the claws came again.

Realizing he couldn’t take it head-on in his state, Brickbattler made a split-second decision. He turned and ran, sprinting toward the exit as fast as his legs would carry him. Behind him, the creature’s howls echoed, growing fainter as he put distance between them.

By the time he reached the outskirts of Raven Rock, he was barely standing. Blood dripped from his wounds, and his breaths came in ragged gasps. But he was alive.

“I figured Glass Houses was the nearest place I could go to for assistance.” He steered himself when Jane started wrapping gauze around his arm. “Thought you'd be here since this place is managed by admins… I was right. I really thought I'd be infected on the way but I didn't. Just got more tired.”

Jane paused mid-wrap, her hands still. She stared at him for a long moment, eyes narrowing. “So… what you encountered wasn’t infected. Just a rabid creature. Who knows if it’s working with whoever caused this whole breakout.”

“Yeah, well,” Brick muttered, “they tend to have pets. So the probability’s high.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “Of course you’d think of that…”

Brickbattler scoffed. “What? It’s the only thing that made sense! Could’ve been a loose experiment from some facility. You know how these things go.”

His voice trailed off. For a moment, he didn’t move. His gaze drifted toward the window, unfocused, and his fingers twitched faintly against the edge of the cot. Jane noticed, but didn’t say anything. She finished tying off the gauze, then leaned back slightly, her expression unreadable. Her gaze moved towards the window, watching as the clouds moved over the horizon.

Brickbattler frowned. “So what’s the plan? We can’t just sit here and hope it all works out.”

Jane sighed, leaning forward. “We need to understand the scope of what we’re dealing with. And for that, we need more information.”

She hesitated before adding, “Guest and Noob might know something. If they’re smart, they’ll come here.”

Brickbattler raised an eyebrow. “You think they’ll show up?”

Jane smirked faintly. “If they want answers, they will. Otherwise…” She glanced at the faint glow of the screen-like sky beyond the walls of Glass Houses. “… they’ll find out the hard way.”

The room fell into silence, both of them lost in thought as the weight of the growing chaos pressed down on them. Somewhere, the distant sound of static glitches hummed, faint but foreboding. 

Chapter Text

hi guys!! nil here

sorry for not uploading consistently nowadays

its just that studies (as well as other stuff) are doing its thing again and i couldn't really work on the following chapters n stuff 

what i will let you know is that chapter 4's almost done, i only need to do some editing and revisions and stuff

chapter 5's supposed to be published after a day or two of uploading the 4th so basically im working on two chapters

i'll probably upload chapter 4 by next week 🥹

thanks for reading my series and for the kudos that I've received tho :'D

again sorry fellow trudlings 😢

have a doodle i made

live laugh love builderman

Chapter Text

``[ LOCATION: GLASS HOUSES ]``

Jane remained seated by Brickbattler’s side, her gaze locked onto the view by the window-sill. She scanned the distance repeatedly, her foot tapping against the floor in a restless rhythm. The shadows of the vast world stretched far beyond, but there was no sign of Guest or Noob.

“I know you’re worried about the two, but calm down, Jane.” Brickbattler spoke suddenly, his arms crossed over his chest. His voice was steady, but there was a softness to it, an attempt to soothe her. “They’ll be alright.”

Jane's gaze snapped to him, her expression tightening. "Calm down? Oh, I am calm, Brick!” She stood up from her chair and slammed a hand on Brick’s cot, causing the latter to flinch back. “I’m calm and totally not thinking that Noob and Guest didn’t make it through! I-...” Her voice cracked, then she trailed off. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to snap like that.”

She sat back down, hands clasped together and firm on her lap. “It’s just that- In all my life—even my earliest days here in Robloxia, those two practically became like my children. They looked up to me, asked me for help with things they didn't understand… I can’t help but worry.”

Brickbattler didn’t speak right away. He uncrossed his arms and gently placed a hand on Jane’s shoulder, leaning close by an inch. “I understand your concern. I swear. But one thing I’ve learned from… a friend… Thinking more of the negative will always have a negative outcome. But if you add a little bit of positivity to it, I’m sure it’ll work out.” A small smile tugged at his lips—reassuring, comforting despite himself.

Jane blinked, her breath catching. The tension in her shoulders eased — just a little. She wanted to believe him. Needed to. But the fear wouldn’t let go.

“That friend I mentioned?” he said quietly. “They taught me how to hold on. Even when it hurts.”

She let out a sigh and placed a hand on Brickbattler’s, looking at him with gratitude. “Thanks, Brick.”

Brickbattler shrugged. “It’s not really the best kind of comfort, but… It works.” He frowns. “Just like they said. Back then."

Jane’s eyebrows shot up at his last words, curiosity piquing her interest. “I’m guessing ‘they’ were that friend that told you the same thing..?”

“Uh-huh. They told everyone that in our group, before things went downhill and… well, we got separated.” A sigh. “I’d like to think that these… including whatever’s going on right now—are just a series of unfortunate events. We never know when they start, or when they end. Or if anything stays the same after.” 

Jane hummed, gaze dropping. “Funny. I used to think the same.” She cleared her throat. “Most of the problems we’ve faced… they weren’t just random. They were tied to the so-called myths of Robloxia. And I’ve known some of those people. A long time ago.”

Her brows furrowed. “Could it be happening again?”

Brickbattler blinked. “Uh… what are you talking about?”

Jane shook her head quickly. “Nothing. Just… overthinking again.”

Brickbattler glanced down at his wrapped arm, flexing it slightly before rising from the cot. “Still feels a little rusty, but I should be fine. I’ll be heading out.”

Jane’s eyes widened. “Wait—now?! You haven’t even healed properly. The least you could do is rest for half a day!”

He shook his head. “Not in a situation like this, Jane. I… I need to make sure no one’s stranded out there. Survivors could be alone, scared. I have to keep them safe.”

Jane hesitated, then sighed, her voice quieter. “Fine. Just… bring them here. This is the only place I know that’s safe right now.” She stood, brushing off her jacket. “I’ll walk you to the gates. Just in case you get any bright ideas about ditching the gauze.”

Brickbattler chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t worry. It’ll stay on… for a few more hours, at least.”

Jane gave a small nod. “Good.”

They traveled through the bridge connecting the blue glass tower and the hill where one of the underground bunkers are located. Brickbattler flexed his arm, slashing midair despite not having a sword in hand—all just to check if it was functional. Jane on the other hand walked as she stared down below, raking in the sight of wandering Robloxians—fearful, worried… It broke her heart. 

“Hey,” Brickbattler said suddenly, voice cutting through the silence. “You’re… Builderman’s daughter, right?”

Jane blinked, pulled from the weight of the view. “I… yeah. I am. Why?”

Brickbattler folded his arms, gaze fixed ahead. “Just strange, isn’t it? He’s not here with you.”

Her expression darkened. “I know. I haven’t heard from him in a week. He’s probably still at HQ.”

Brickbattler’s jaw tightened. “HQ’s been silent. Too silent. If he’s there, he’s either hiding something… or he doesn’t want to be found.”

Jane didn’t answer. Her thoughts were already spiraling—Guest and Noob still missing, Builderman unreachable, and the myths she’d buried clawing their way back into relevance. She clenched her fists.

They descended the hill, boots crunching against loose gravel as the wind picked up around them. The blue-glass tower loomed behind, casting long shadows over the slope. Below, the main gates stood like sentinels—tall, rusted, and humming faintly with old tech. Beyond them lay the fractured outskirts of Robloxia, where the terrain twisted and the myths whispered.

Brickbattler adjusted the gauze on his arm, flexing it with a wince. Jane walked beside him, jacket pulled tight, eyes scanning the horizon.

“You really think they’re out there?” she asked.

Brickbattler didn’t hesitate. “I have to.”

Jane sighed, her voice barely above the wind. “Guest and Noob… they meant everything to me. If something’s happened—if the myths are involved again—”

Brickbattler stopped walking. “Then we face it. Like we always do.”

She looked at him, searching his face for doubt. There was none. Just resolve.

The gates came into view, guarded by two avatars in faded armor. One of them stepped forward, recognizing Brickbattler immediately.

“You heading out?” the guard asked.

Brickbattler nodded. “Paintball Arena. I’ll start there.”

Jane stepped closer, voice firm. “If you find anyone—any survivors—bring them here. This place is still safe. For now.”

Brickbattler gave a small nod. “I will.”

The gates groaned open, gears grinding like ancient beasts waking from slumber. Dust swirled in the air, and Brickbattler stepped forward, hand hovering near his sword, eyes locked on the horizon.

Then—

THUD.

A figure stumbled through the dust—arms flailing, legs barely holding. Guest.

He didn’t slow down. Didn’t speak. Just collapsed forward, crashing into Brickbattler’s chest before crumpling to the ground.

“Guest?!” Jane shouted, rushing to his side.

Brick dropped to one knee, turning Guest over gently. His breathing was shallow, face pale, clothes streaked with dirt and sweat. In his hand, clenched tight even in unconsciousness, was a crumpled piece of paper.

Brick pried it loose.

The handwriting was jagged, uneven—scrawled mid-run, mid-panic.

‘they took noob

help him’

Jane’s breath caught. “Noob’s gone?”

Guest didn’t stir.

Brickbattler stood slowly, eyes darkening as he stared past the gate. The wind picked up, carrying the scent of scorched terrain—and something older. Something wrong.

“Then someone’s going to pay for it.”

He turned to the guards. “Seal the gate. No one else gets through until I say.”

Jane knelt beside Guest, brushing dust from his face. Her voice trembled. “We need to find Noob. Fast.”

Brickbattler’s grip tightened around the crumpled note. The jagged handwriting burned in his mind as his gaze sliced through the churning dust beyond the gate. The world around them seemed to hold its breath—scorched earth, warped ruins, and whispers of myth all waiting on the other side.

Wherever Noob was now… he was anywhere but safe.

Chapter Text

(GUEST's POV)

``[ LOCATION: GLASS HOUSES ]``

“Guest..? Can you hear me? Wake up!”

I open my eyes to the sound of a voice—his voice.

At first, everything appears to be blurry, until it all cleared. 

Yellow skin, blue jacket, yellow hat… Noob.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Of course. I couldn’t speak after all.

I blink.

The sun’s warm. Not burning—just gentle, like it used to be. The grass is soft beneath me, and the wind carries that familiar scent of old Robloxia. Crossroads.

I’m lying under the shade of a tree. The same one we used to camp under between matches. The leaves rustle above, casting dappled light across the ground.

Noob’s sitting up beside me, legs crossed, smiling like nothing’s wrong.

“Hey,” he says, voice light. “You spaced out again.”

I try to answer, but my voice doesn’t come. He doesn’t seem to mind. Just laughs, soft and easy.

“You always do that. Just lie there and think too much.”

He leans back on his hands, looking up at the sky. “It’s nice here, isn’t it? Like it never changed.”

I nod. Or I think I do. My body feels slow, like I’m underwater.

Noob turns to me again, eyes bright. “You’re safe now, Guest. I’m here.”

I want to believe him.

I really do.

But something’s wrong.

The wind shifts. The leaves above flicker—too fast. The shadows stretch. And Noob’s smile… it doesn’t reach his eyes anymore.

Noob doesn’t move.

His eyes—once warm—glaze over. Empty. Wrong.

I sit up, heart pounding. ‘Noob?’ I try to say—but of course, my voice was never there to begin with.

He turns to me slowly, like a puppet on broken strings.

“You left me.”

The words aren’t his. They’re too cold. Too final.

I scramble backward, the grass beneath me glitching into static. The tree groans, its bark splitting open like a wound. The sky above flickers—sunlight warping into grayscale, like the world’s code is breaking.

“Noob… I didn’t—” I heard my own voice for the first time, only now.

But he’s already moving.

He lunges at me, face twisted in rage and heartbreak. His hands reach for my throat, his voice a roar of pain—

“YOU LEFT ME!”

I scream.

I fell.

I woke up.

Guest’s eyes snapped open.

Their chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven bursts—the phantom of Noob’s grip still lingering around their throat. The dream clung to them like static: red skies, black clouds, betrayal. It wasn’t real.

But it felt real.

Jane crouched in front of them, hands firm on their shoulders, voice low and steady. “Guest…? You’re awake. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Safe.

Guest blinked, trying to anchor themselves in the present. The lounge lights flickered gently overhead, casting soft shadows across the room. Their fingers twitched against the fabric of their jacket, grounding them in something—anything.

Behind Jane stood Brickbattler, arms crossed, gaze unreadable. Stern. Watching.

Guest shrank under it instinctively, guilt pressing down like a vice. Their throat burned—not from pain, but from the memory of silence. Of running. They didn’t speak. Couldn’t. But the ache in their chest said everything.

Jane gave their shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You’re okay now. Just breathe.”

Guest nodded faintly, though the dream still echoed behind their eyes.

Jane stood, brushing dust from her jacket. “I’ll get you some water,” she said gently, giving Guest’s shoulder one last reassuring squeeze before stepping out.

Guest watched her go, already missing the buffer she provided.

Now it was just Brickbattler.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just stood there, arms crossed, eyes narrowed—like he was dissecting Guest with every glance. Judging. Measuring. Waiting.

Guest’s breath hitched. The silence wasn’t just quiet—it was suffocating. Heavy. Like the air itself had turned against them.

They shifted slightly, fingers curling tighter around the notebook in their lap. The pages felt heavier now. Like they were made of lead. Like they were proof.

Brickbattler’s eyes didn’t waver. “You look young,” he said, voice low. “Even though your kind’s been around for decades.”

Guest’s breath caught.

The words weren’t cruel, but they weren’t kind either. Just… observant. Cold. Like Brick was trying to understand something he didn’t trust.

They didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Their fingers curled tighter around the notebook, knuckles pale.

Brickbattler shifted his weight, arms still crossed. His gaze lingered—not sharp now, but thoughtful. Like he was seeing something beneath the surface.

“You know,” he said after a pause, “I used to think your kind were just… code. Empty. NPCs with a fancy name.”

Guest flinched.

“But then I met one who cried when his friend got deleted. Screamed when the server crashed. Fought harder than anyone I knew.”

Brick’s voice softened, just a little. “I don’t know if that was you. Or someone like you. But… I remember it.”

Guest’s throat tightened. Their eyes burned. Brickbattler looked away, jaw clenched.

“Still doesn’t make what happened okay.” But his tone had shifted. Less judgment. More weight.

Guest didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But something inside them cracked.

Jane returned quietly, the glass of water cradled in both hands like it might spill if she moved too fast.

Guest hadn’t moved. Still curled on the couch, notebook limp in their lap, fingers twitching against the cover like it might bite.

Jane knelt beside them again, setting the water down with a soft clink. “Here,” she said gently. “You should drink.”

Guest didn’t reach for it. Jane didn’t push. She just sat there, close but not crowding, her presence warm and steady.

“I know it’s hard,” she said after a moment. “But you don’t have to say it out loud.”

Guest blinked, barely.

Jane tapped the notebook with one finger. “You can write it. Just enough for us to understand.”

Guest’s throat tightened.

“I don’t need every detail,” Jane continued, voice low. “Just… what happened. Why you came alone.”

Guest’s fingers curled tighter around the notebook.

Brickbattler hadn’t spoken. Still across the room, arms folded, gaze unreadable. But he was listening.

Jane leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to carry it alone anymore.”

Guest’s breath hitched.

They opened the notebook.

The page stared back—blank, expectant, terrifying.

Jane didn’t move.

Guest picked up the pen.

And began to write.

``[ LOCATION: OUTSKIRTS OF CROSSROADS ]``

The trees were too tall. Too dark. The path twisted like it didn’t want to be followed.

Guest gripped Noob’s arm, fingers locked in place. Their breath came shallow. The forest felt wrong—like it was waiting.

Noob’s voice was steady. “We’ll be okay. I promised I’d protect you.”

Guest wanted to believe him. But the promise felt thin. The woods didn’t feel safe.

They felt like bait.

Then—CRACK.

A twig snapped. Loud. Sharp. Like something had stepped where it shouldn’t.

Guest’s heart jumped. Their body locked up.

Noob turned toward the sound, sword half-raised. “Who’s there?!”

Silence.

Then she spoke.

“Oh, sweetheart… I was hoping you’d run.”

GUEST666 stepped from the shadows, red eyes glowing like corrupted code. Her smile was slow. Cruel. Like she’d already won.

Guest froze.

Noob lunged.

Too fast. Too slow.

Her hand closed around his throat.

Guest hit the ground. Scrambled back. Dirt under their nails. Watching.

Noob dangled. Kicked. Clawed at her grip.

Guest couldn’t breathe. Not because she was choking them.

But because they were watching it happen.

“You’re even more pathetic than I remembered,” she said, eyes locking onto them.

Guest’s chest collapsed inward. The scream clawed at their throat. The fight sparked in their gut.

But nothing came.

They moved before they could even think.

They ran.

Branches tore at their arms. Cold bit through their clothes. Noob’s voice echoed behind them—“Guest… don’t…”

They didn’t stop.

Didn’t look back.

Just ran.

Back in the lounge, the air felt heavy. Guest sat hunched on the edge of the couch, shaking. Their hands were clenched in their lap, nails digging into skin. The notebook lay beside them like a half-spilled secret. It wasn’t full, but what was written felt like too much.

Jane and Brickbattler stood nearby, reading. Jane closed the notebook slowly, her fingers brushing the cover like it might sting. She didn’t look up. Brickbattler’s jaw was tight, eyes locked on the last line Guest had written.

‘I left him.’

The words hung in the room like smoke, curling into every corner. No one spoke. Guest couldn’t look at them. Couldn’t move. The lounge felt smaller now, like the walls had crept inward, like the furniture had turned to stone.

Brickbattler broke the silence first. His voice was low, rough. “You ran.”

Guest flinched, the word slicing through them like glass.

Jane turned sharply, eyes flashing a warning, but Brickbattler didn’t back down. He repeated it, softer this time. “You ran. You left him.”

Guest’s throat tightened. The urge to speak clawed at them—to explain, to scream, to say I was scared, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t know what else to do—but the words tangled in their chest, stuck behind the shame.

Brickbattler paced once, then turned back, expression unreadable. “I get fear,” he said, voice quieter now. “I do. But you didn’t even look back?”

Guest’s breath hitched, sharp and involuntary.

Jane stepped forward, voice rising. “Brick—”

“No,” he snapped, then softened instantly, like the anger had drained out mid-sentence. “No. I’m not mad. I just… I don’t get it.”

He looked at Guest again, and this time his eyes weren’t angry. They were tired. Hollow. Like something inside him had cracked.

“I’ve seen people break,” he said. “I’ve seen people freeze. But you—” He paused, searching for the right words, the ones that wouldn’t hurt but still needed to be said.

“You were supposed to be different.”

Guest folded in on themself, the ache blooming in their chest unbearable. It felt like drowning in guilt, like every breath was borrowed.

“I thought you were one of the ones who stayed.”

Jane knelt beside them, her hand finding theirs with quiet certainty. Her touch was warm, grounding. “They’re still here,” she said softly. “That has to count for something.”

Guest didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

But the tears in their eyes said everything.