Nightmare Game
Copyright© 2025 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 118
With his current strength, Julian could sustain the skill for twenty minutes.
But even he wasn’t confident he could outlast the pursuit of The Fire of Judgment trailing behind.
The heat on his back intensified, scorching winds howling in, threatening to sear his skin raw.
Through Ultrasonic Wave, he scanned the nearby intel, racing to find a way out.
The map blooming in his mind not only laid out the terrain and life forms around him in an instant.
It marked them in red for enemies, blue for allies.
A quick glance showed only seven blues—meaning someone had likely already bitten the dust.
Two teams were still moving, probably untouched so far; the two stragglers were Leo, who’d split off, and another—
Hmm?
Julian’s pupils narrowed. He’d spotted it: the other lone figure, identity unknown, but heading straight his way.
That meant whoever it was had hunkered down there, watching him.
And the spot? It stood out as one of the odder places in this Prison.
Julian’s thoughts spun fast. Time to check it out.
...
Ethan tailed the purple jumpsuits, with The Fire of Judgment gaining ground behind.
So he veered off at a fork, parting ways with them.
Sure enough, The Fire of Judgment barreled after the purple jumpsuits, confirming his hunch.
Clearly, they ranked higher on its hit list than Testers.
With the purple jumpsuits buying him time, Ethan didn’t let up.
The pressing issue was unraveling how The Fire of Judgment worked.
This Prison was pyramid-shaped, the fifth level its broadest sprawl—hunting clues in a crunch felt impossible.
Ethan furrowed his brow, convinced a mid-tier Dreamplay shouldn’t be this convoluted.
Some detail had slipped by.
He replayed everything he’d seen here.
Guards, green jumpsuits, purple jumpsuits, the pig-headed creature, tide, The Fire of Judgment.
So far, only the pig-headed creature seemed capable of handling The Fire of Judgment—maybe the tide too?
But the pig-headed creature was an outsider, no reason to help; guards didn’t even know what The Fire of Judgment was. Dead end.
No, shake off the tunnel vision—early intel might not hold. Think post-transformation.
His head swam, the air growing stifling, sweat pouring nonstop, but he pushed on.
Like the tide’s arrival, the Prison warped in eerie ways.
If The Fire of Judgment stemmed from the same source, it should trigger some shift too.
Heat from The Fire of Judgment hazed the air like mist, and forks seemed to multiply.
That’s it!
Ethan smacked his fist into his palm, the pieces clicking.
The heat had him dizzy, vision doubling faintly.
He’d brushed it off as heat-induced illusions.
His memory was sharp; he mapped paths as he went, so even spotting extra forks, he’d stick to the “right” one.
But what if they weren’t illusions?
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