You are not a hero. You are not a prisoner.

They called it the .

Before you: a single, flickering lantern. Its flame is the color of a held breath.

Deep within the labyrinth of the failed Chimeric Citadel, where the First Flesh met the Last Circuit, something tore. Not an explosion—a negation . A sphere of absolute zero-volume opened like a wound in reality’s belly.

Behind you: nothing. The door you came through has become a wall of knuckles.

To your left: a door that breathes. Its handle is a human radius bone. Behind it, something whispers numbers in reverse.

To your right: a staircase that goes up, down, and sideways . At the top, a nursery rhyme. At the bottom, a furnace that once burned a star.

You wake to the sound of your own ribs cracking against a floor made of frozen milk and broken mirrors.

System Note: You have no weapons. You have no magic. Your only tools are: - A fractured lullaby (damaged) - A memory of cold water - A name you are no longer sure is yours Press any button to wake the dream. The Sphere is zero. And zero is hungry.