The Infinity Dungeon [LitRPG]

There were several seconds of utter stillness. The underground warehouse had been full of moving machines and noises, trucks with roaring engines, soldering bots welding parts together in showers of sparks, grinders breaking down pieces, blocks of asphalt being loaded up and down by tall cranes that almost reached the ceiling.

Now it was silent. Even though the machinery did not have eyes, Michael felt the pressure of a thousand gazes upon him. Plus another, bigger and meaner. The Lair knew he was here.

He broke into a run, and at the same moment the machines seemed to break out of their stupor. They began to chase him, a maze of sharp and hot metal moving in inhuman ways. One of them got too close, but Michael ducked under the hydraulic arm of a strange triangular robot and the two collided together. Leaving the clanging tangle of metal limbs behind, he kept running, dodging the sharp implements being waved at him and seeking refuge.

There was a door on the other side of the warehouse. A green rectangle against the dull grey of the walls, with a neon sign above it.

Michael made a beeline for it, staggered when something hit him from behind, scraping his knees on the rough asphalt. He rolled to his back just in time to see a three-pronged arm descend upon him, rolled to the side again and hurt his back but managed to avoid being speared through. He got up, uncaring of the cuts and scrapes, and ran.

He slammed into the door like a physical force, somehow hoping it would open. His body pressed against the push bar but the door didn't budge. Behind, the cacophony of crazed machines was getting closer.

Turning around, feeling the cold metal of the door like death gripping his back, Michael ducked below a blade seeking to remove his head from his body. It cut some hair, and the displacement of air made his heart pound in his chest.

He didn't see the other arm ramming into his stomach.

He fell backwards. An icy coldness spread from his wound, wetting his clothes. Above him, he thought he could see rectangular ceiling lights, like those of a corridor. Indeed, how had he fallen backwards if his back was against the door?

He saw a flicker of blue light, then something hauling him away. He was dragged through the corridor, the green door slamming shut. The lights above blended into one another, gradually growing distant and dull as Michael's consciousness faded.

***

Consciousness returned with a gasp, like sucking in air after fifteen seconds too long spent underwater. Michael gulped the fresh air like it was a lifeline, spasming and trying to sit up faster than his body liked.

His hands instinctively went to his stomach, fingers finding flawless skin covered in goosebumps. That's when he realized that he was naked, cold and shivering. He was sitting on an uncomfortable metal bed, lit by sterile light overhead that cast strange shadows all over his body.

Looking at where his wound had been, he recognized the perfect touch of healing magic.

"Hey, you, you are finally awake."

Michael's eyes snapped to the side, where he saw the outline of a man surrounded by a light blue glow. The action made him lose his precarious balance, and he fell down to the floor like a groaning sack of bones.

The man, old and wrinkly, chuckled. "Lloyd Cromwell," he said with a hand outstretched. Michael tried to grasp it, but his fingers passed through the hand and made the man flicker like a hologram.

Seeing this, the man chuckled again. "Sorry kiddo. Sometimes I forget what I have become."

"You're a hologram," Michael slurred. As the adrenaline of the rough awakening faded, he began to feel tired.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"In the not-flesh. Been a long time since I've last seen people around these parts. What brings you here?"

Shivering, Michael got up and scanned the room. There was a bundle of clothes on a metal chair. Getting dressed under the uncomfortable gaze of the old man's hologram, he tried to make sense of his situation.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"Sitea, of course."

"Yes, I know the city. But where did you take me? And how, since you can't touch solid matter?"

The old man's eyes lit up. "Oh? You do know of this forsaken city? How did you hear of it, do tell. Was it the Scarlet–"

He suddenly stopped, clamping his own mouth shut.

"No, I shouldn't say her name out loud. Listen, I took you to a safe place, Albert, but we don't have much time."

The old man was getting worked up. Taking a step back, Michael spoke slowly. "I'm not Albert. My name is Michael, and I'm looking for–"

"Of course you're Albert, silly! My grandson would never abandon this old codger here, all alone, would he?"

The crazed look in his eyes, which had increased to truly creepy levels, disappeared like a mirage.

"Shit. Listen, kid, we don't have much time. I know you are not him. You remind me of him, that's all. I know he won't come back, the machines detected the timeline split. I think that's what pushed the Lair over the edge, actually. He was already pretty far gone, but with his prime objective suddenly rendered null and void? Shit, it pushed even me over the edge!"

He started laughing, doubling over and gasping for air.

"Want candy?" he said, materializing a small wrapped sweet in his outstretched hand.

Michael made no motions to grab it. Seeing this, the old man scowled and threw the thing at him. It impacted his forehead with an all-too-real sensation before evaporating into nothingness.

"Ha! Gotcha!"

Then the old man's eyes cleared again and his face, which had been frozen in a rictus of laughter, smoothed over and relaxed.

"Listen. The Lair has destroyed the sensors and the machines, and now keeps operating the city pretending it's all fine. I think he can see the corruption spreading, but it's only a reflection of his own state of mind. He doesn't like to be reminded of it, though, hence why he tried to kill you. Come."

Michael followed the man. A door opened, leading to a dark corridor with sterile neon lights that lit up as they walked, before shutting down again behind them. It was like walking on an island of light, surrounded by a sea of darkness.

"The AI thinks she'll return, one day. I know Samantha has left this place for good, I'm sure of it, I could see it in her eyes. The crazed machine knows it too, but it has so far lacked a good reason to fool its own flawed logic. Now it has it. You. It'll blame you for her disappearance. That's why it is searching for you. It wants you dead."

"Where are we going?" asked Michael, "Shouldn't we leave?"

"And go where? I don't know how you pierced the shield but unless you can do that again, then we are stuck here."

The old man laughed, but didn't stop walking. They kept at it, eerie laughter echoing through the strangely long tunnel that extended for what felt like miles, minutes blending into hours filled with nothing but the sound of steps and laughter until they reached a set of glass doors, one after the other extending for as far as the eye could see. Michael counted more than fifty doors before the glass absorbed all the light and became opaque.

"There's a stash of Reality Bending Energy hidden below the Spire," The old man said, clarity returning. "That's what you came here for, isn't it? That's why the strange spirit opened up the impenetrable shield. Well, go and fetch them."

"You're just going to give them to me?"

"My grandson won't be needing them anymore. I sure hope he isn't dead, or he just did something that rendered this whole timeline irrelevant. If you know something, don't tell me. I don't want to know."

"Alright…"

"You remind me of him, that's all…" he flickered as the first set of doors opened. "We are here. I cannot enter that room, nor do I know what you will find there. I only ask that you fulfill this old man's last request, if you can. Delete my consciousness engram from this wretched place's mainframe. I am old, and tired. It's time for me to go gentle into that good night."

"I will."

A crazed look contorted the wrinkled face. "No you won't!"

It passed as soon as it came.

"Thank you and good luck, kid."

The hologram vanished, leaving Michael all alone. The first set of glass doors was open, but the others were still sealed shut. Behind him, the dark tunnel extended for who knew how far, while he had the impression that once he crossed the threshold, the doors would close and he wouldn't be able to turn back.

"But turn back to go where? In the room of crazed homicidal machines?"

With a sigh, he steeled his resolve. He had nothing on him but the plain clothes he had been given, making all his preparations irrelevant.

"Alright," he said to himself, and walked forward.

The doors closed shut behind him, locking him inside a space no larger than a closet.