Dimensional Overseer: I Can Manipulate DNA!

Zane didn't make it past a few minutes after sunset before sleep claimed him. The exhaustion had built up like a dam throughout the day, and now it burst all at once, dragging his heavy limbs and buzzing thoughts into the depths of unconsciousness. His breath evened out, muscles finally relaxing as his body sunk into the mattress.

Normally, this would've been the prelude to a familiar nightmare—a horror movie played on repeat every night for the past five years. The same room. The same walls. The same tragedy. He had grown used to it, in a way. The repetition dulled the sting, but never the fear. That part always stayed.

Zane had given up resisting that feeling long ago, it was simply far too inevitable for the powerless Zane to do anything about it. Acceptance was his only way of lessening the impact of such a terror on his daily life.

Only now, something felt… different.

There was no paper beneath his fingers, no pen scratching lines in the quiet. No warm glow from his old desk lamp. Instead, Zane slowly opened his eyes to unfamiliar shadows and a chilling cold that made his skin tighten.

A putrid smell wafted into his nostrils, sharp and rancid, thick like rotting meat or neglected trash. He recoiled instinctively, gagging slightly. The air felt stagnant, heavy with dust and decay. It wasn't the nightmare he was used to.

He blinked again, eyes adjusting slowly to the faint flickering glow cast by a lone candle sitting on a table across the room. The soft light illuminated cracked stones and ancient mortar, revealing the harsh texture of a dungeon-like chamber.

"Where… am I?" His voice came out hoarse, quieter than he expected. It echoed faintly off the walls, swallowed by the oppressive silence.

Zane sat up, the rusted bed frame beneath him creaking in protest. His thin clothes clung to him uncomfortably, doing little to keep the cold at bay. He looked down at his bare feet, then at the uneven stone floor.

A shiver ran through him—not from fear, but the sheer temperature. It felt like the entire place had been carved out of ice and left to rot. The candle's flame danced weakly in the corner, the only spot of warmth in this eerie void.

As he slowly stood, he realized something else.

"I'm… taller?" he muttered, glancing down at his legs, then at the bed. The height difference was obvious. He felt… different. Bigger. His balance had shifted slightly too. He stomped a few times experimentally, just to feel the ground under this unfamiliar posture. "Weird dream," he muttered, rubbing his arm. His limbs, while longer, felt oddly natural. Not awkward like one would expect in a child's imagination. More like… a glimpse into the future.

His curiosity flared. Usually, his dreams had one strict pattern. One that never deviated. But this… this was something entirely new.

Driven by instinct, he called out, "System?"

Silence. No response, not even a flicker in his mind.

"Huh." Zane tilted his head slightly. "Guess it doesn't show up in dreams. Makes sense." He couldn't help but smirk a little. Even in this unsettling place, a part of him remained analytical.

He walked to the table, inspecting the candle. The flame wavered slightly at his approach, casting elongated shadows on the wall. There was nothing else on the surface—no notes, no tools, just the candle resting in an old brass holder caked with wax.

He checked the rest of the room methodically. The walls were bare, no windows, no signs of life. The bed was just a rusty frame with a worn-out mattress, no pillow, no sheets. He didn't expect much comfort in a place like this.

Eventually, his gaze settled on the door—a thick slab of dark, iron-studded metal. He approached it, pressing his ear to the surface, but it was like leaning against a mountain. Cold. Dense. Silent.

No sound beyond. Not even footsteps.

"Well, here goes." He raised his fist and banged on the door. "Hello? Anyone out there? Hey!"

His voice echoed again, unanswered. He repeated the process a few times, but only silence replied.

"Great," he muttered, dragging a hand through his longer hair, now brushing the back of his neck. "Either this place is empty or I'm being ghosted in my own dream."

He eventually sat back down on the bed with a sigh. If this really was a dream—and he was fairly certain it was—then all he could do was wait it out. That's how they always went. You just had to endure them until your brain let you go.

But just as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, something slid under the door.

He snapped his head up, alert.

"Hm?"

A small metallic object had appeared—a key. It glinted faintly in the candlelight.

Zane blinked in surprise and stood up, walking over and crouching to pick it up. He turned it in his fingers a few times, inspecting the aged bronze sheen and the crude shape of the teeth. It looked old, but functional.

"Alright," he said cautiously, raising his voice. "I know someone's out there! Who slid this? Just tell me where I am, dammit!"

Silence again.

"...Nothing. Of course." He exhaled sharply through his nose, annoyed. He hated cryptic nonsense. Even in a dream, he preferred clarity.

But with no answers and a key in hand, he knew what had to come next. He slid the key into the door's lock and twisted.

Click.

The tumblers moved, and with a loud metallic groan, the door creaked open.

Zane pushed it slowly, cobwebs sticking to the frame as he did. A puff of dust exploded into his face, making him cough.

"God, has this place never seen a broom?" he mumbled, waving the air away. The scent of mildew hit harder than ever. Still, he stepped into the corridor beyond.

The hallway was narrow and lined with the same ancient stone as the cell. The walls stretched endlessly to his left and right, equally dark in both directions. There was no light source beyond the candlelight leaking from behind him.

He stood there for a moment, rubbing his arm absently.

"So I guess I get to pick, huh? Left or right…" His tone was flat with sarcasm. "Lovely. Just like a horror movie. Pick a door and hope you don't die." He rolled his eyes. "Thanks, subconscious."

Eventually, he chose to go right. It didn't matter. In dreams, paths only pretended to be choices. In reality, the dream is always guided toward an inevitable outcome and that outcome is set even before he wakes up. His brain locks that result and it leaves him to try and find that outcome on his own accord.

His bare feet made soft slapping sounds on the cold stone floor as he walked, the sound reverberating down the hallway. The longer he moved, the more his unease began to grow. The place felt… too real. The air pressed in on him like a physical force. And yet, he still didn't feel afraid.

Something about this dream was fundamentally different.

"I should've woken up by now," he muttered. "What's keeping me here?"

Despite the cold, despite the silence, despite the unease, he kept moving forward. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a faint whisper echoed—one he couldn't place. He was being pulled, somehow. Like there was something waiting at the end of this path. Something important.

And for reasons he couldn't yet explain, Zane wanted to see it.

Even if it was a dream.

Even if it was a nightmare.

He had a feeling this wasn't like the others.

Not at all.

The walking continued for several minutes, then for a while longer. The scenery around Zane didn't change much the entire time. It felt like he was walking in an endless loop with how monotonous the atmosphere was. However, it also made sure to keep him on edge the entire time, waiting for anything to happen as he would expect.

Yet, none of that happened.

'Is this some sort of joke? I'm waiting for anything to happen?' He muttered as he started feeling mildly irritated by the current predicament. Then, as if the dream heard his complaints, he noticed something in the distance.

After walking for what felt like an hour, he saw an end, a closed door.

"... Finally. It's nice to see that I'm not stuck here for eternity." He muttered in relief as he approached the rusty gate. Unlike the first locked one, this one seemed not to need the key as it seemingly danced faintly with the wind outside.

"Wind?" Zane frowned "Hmm, this entire place is completely closed. If there is wind, that means..."

And just as he was saying that, he parted the door open, only for him to get completely shocked by the scene. His leg which was intending to take a step forward, immediately retracted as he leaned back.

"Woah!" He exclaimed, staring at the free fall he almost got into. There were no stairs. "What the hell?!" Yelling loudly, Zane felt the cold air brush against his face.