Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics Chapter 5670 - 4694: Deadly Escape (27)

"I’m feeling like we’ve overlooked some crucial information," Bruce commented as he ascended the ladder along the tunnel wall. "We really should not have rushed our departure. Had we lingered, something significant might have revealed itself."

"What exactly did you hope to witness?" Shiller inquired.

"I’m curious if they’ll attempt to repair the mechanism when it malfunctions," Bruce mused. "Perhaps that could shed light on the underlying narrative."

"Then leaving promptly was the correct decision," Shiller stated. "If my assessment is accurate, the subsequent chamber should provide the necessary context."

Bruce appeared somewhat bewildered. "How can you be so certain?"

"This particular environment doesn't prioritize a deep narrative; its focus is primarily on escape room challenges and intricate mechanisms. Nevertheless, a complete absence of a backstory would feel jarring, prompting the designers to incorporate a rudimentary plot. You shouldn’t set your expectations too high."

"Even a basic story is a story, though. Let's have a look," Bruce declared, steadying himself as he entered the passage. Shiller followed, with Bruce assisting him up.

After traversing a short passage, they entered a new chamber. It was another bare room, save for a cage suspended from the ceiling. Just as Bruce prepared to move closer for a better view, he stumbled over an unseen object. The floor before him gave way, sending him tumbling down.

"Blast it all, what is this place!" Bruce’s voice echoed from below. Shiller peered down, observing that Bruce had fallen into a sloped pit. The walls weren't constructed of brick but were composed of packed earth, with some damaged bricks visible at the bottom.

The confined space below seemed just adequate for a single individual. Ample light filled the room, allowing them to discern the situation below. Upon emerging, Bruce was holding a fragment of bone.

"There’s a skeleton down there," Bruce sighed. "It appears to belong to a middle-aged man, perhaps in his forties or fifties. Rib marks indicate chest trauma, and his ankle seems to be sprained. More importantly..."

Bruce held up the bone artifact in his hand. It was slender, clearly not from an arm or leg. Its most distinctive feature was a metal ring affixed to its center, attached to a chain that ended in an iron spike.

"He was clutching this," Bruce declared, retrieving a notebook. "This appears to be the skeleton's journal. Since individuals rarely record their names in such personal accounts, I've designated him 'Andrew.'"

Bruce opened the notebook, examining its contents under the available light. He learned that Andrew was an Afghanistan veteran grappling with PTSD.

"This character background is a tad predictable," Bruce remarked. "I can recall countless film plots that hinge on Afghanistan veterans."

"Precisely because Hollywood blockbusters frequently utilize such common narrative threads, the level designers have adopted this classic archetype. This approach ensures players from any nationality can readily connect with the character," Shiller explained.

Bruce continued his perusal. The initial entries in the journal were penned with a conventional pen, predominantly conveying his persistent thoughts of fallen comrades, deep sorrow, and his impoverished circumstances.

As they progressed further into the notebook, they arrived at the core of the dramatic narrative. The later entries were inscribed in blood. Shiller took a moment to observe and commented, "The blood used was likely drawn from a collarbone wound, not from the fingertips."

"You can discern that?" Bruce expressed surprise. He admitted he had never personally written with blood, but his assumption was that most individuals would bite their fingertips to produce it.

Shiller nodded. "If one bites their fingertip, the resulting pain would impair the fingers' dexterity during writing, altering the stroke shapes compared to other methods. However, if the bloodstains are fabricated or drawn from a separate source, the writing would appear far smoother."

Bruce considered this, finding it plausible. The act of biting a fingertip and using its blood for writing seemed rather fanciful. Fundamentally, the human body contains red blood cells; a bitten wound wouldn’t bleed profusely for an extended period, and even vigorous rubbing onto paper would yield minimal results.

Furthermore, biting a fingertip would undoubtedly be agonizing. Experiencing pain in one area while attempting to write legibly in another would inevitably affect the penmanship. While short passages might be manageable, extensive writing would not only deplete the 'ink' but also distort the writing style.

"This method could be employed to verify the authenticity of blood writings left by a victim," Shiller stated. "The script produced by biting one's own finger differs from that created by a murderer using dipped blood."

"I've never encountered such a situation," Bruce replied. "It sounds like you have, Professor?"

"I am the one who utilized dipped blood to write."

"I really shouldn't have asked," Bruce muttered, slapping his forehead. He questioned why he had assumed Shiller would possess a perpetrator's perspective rather than a detective's.

Their focus returned to the diary, and soon they were engrossed in its contents. Andrew’s writing was quite lengthy, but it primarily revolved around two points. Firstly, he realized the dungeon was artificially constructed; he even perceived the sound of someone moving within an employee passage. However, his companion, his girlfriend Susan, dismissed his claims, attributing them to hallucinations brought on by his stress disorder.

The second point detailed Andrew’s strategy: to conceal himself in a specific room, await the arrival of a cleaning staff member, and then execute a swift, fatal surprise attack to facilitate their escape from this dreadful escape room.

Evidently, his plan was unsuccessful. While he did manage to hide in a room, he likely perished there before any staff appeared, succumbing to his predicament.

"However, if your assessment is correct and he sustained a chest injury, it's probable he was wounded by a steel needle near the entrance and might not have survived much longer," Shiller remarked.

"Then, how did he manage to dig such a large hole?" Bruce questioned, casting his gaze back towards the cavity.

A sudden realization struck him, and he inquired, "Did he suffer from the same affliction as you, Professor?"

"Post-traumatic stress disorder is indeed a profound mental affliction," Shiller responded. "When triggered, it can lead to the release of muscular constraints. The diary indicates his condition was severe, manifesting each time he encountered a life-threatening situation."

"Did his girlfriend, Susan, perish?" Bruce mused aloud. "Could she have been the victim of a steel needle strike?"

"It's highly probable. His girlfriend, Susan, met her end in the preceding chamber. He narrowly escaped, but witnessing her death triggered his condition. Driven by an surge of adrenaline, he excavated the tiles, creating a hole for concealment."

"But why didn't he wait for the staff? Is it possible the alleged staff passage and footsteps were mere phantoms?"

"There are two plausible explanations for the staff's non-appearance," Shiller deduced. "One is that Andrew didn't violate any rules; he simply dug a hole to hide but remained within the designated area—just another failed attempt that the Behind-the-scenes Manipulator saw no need to interfere with."

"That makes sense," Bruce agreed, glancing again at the hole. "When you were dislodging tiles earlier, no one intervened. This suggests the escape room doesn't prohibit acts of destruction."

"Engaging in destruction isn't advisable," Shiller stated, shaking his head. "It presents a potential rapid path to demise, as it consumes excessive physical fortitude and may prove ineffective. Exhausting your strength without yielding results inevitably leads to certain death."

"One could even argue that permitting destruction is, in itself, a deliberate trap," Shiller lamented. "My own strength is considerably depleted. Had I not advanced a level ahead, simple movement would be arduous at this juncture."

"If you weren't as capable, we wouldn't have skipped that level," Bruce offered optimistically. "The conventional approach to clearing it might not have conserved any more strength. Perhaps they adopted a more expedient strategy."

Bruce then looked at the journal and asked, "What about another theory?"

"The staff did arrive, but Andrew failed to subdue them. He was killed and subsequently disposed of back into the pit. The staff then replaced the tiles, disregarding him entirely."

"That's a compelling thought," Bruce commented. "It's not inconceivable that the staff could overpower and kill Andrew, especially considering his weakened state and the fleeting nature of his affliction-fueled strength. Furthermore, the staff might possess firearms, rendering brute force ineffective. The crucial question remains: why leave the body there? It couldn't solely be for our benefit, could it?"

"Let's first dismiss the notion of compassion. If the Behind-the-scenes Manipulator operates as an organization, they wouldn't entrust a novice with body disposal. Those with the requisite skills likely lack sentimentality. Even if they possessed some, a proper burial would be more fitting than leaving him exposed here."

"Was it deliberately left as a warning?" Bruce speculated, though he quickly reconsidered. "If the intent was truly to demonstrate, they wouldn't have hidden him in the pit; hanging him from the ceiling would have been far more shocking."

"Since neither compassion nor a deliberate warning are likely factors, only one conclusion remains," Shiller stated. "It isn't that they were unwilling to remove him, but rather, they were unable to."

Bruce lowered his gaze to the pry bar in his hand: "This belonged to Andrew. It's already quite rusty." He gently scraped away a layer of rust, revealing what appeared to be dried bloodstains.

"It appears both parties sustained injuries," Bruce observed. "The staff killed Andrew, but Andrew also managed to wound the staff. In the face of self-preservation, immediate healing would take precedence over body retrieval. He likely made a swift exit for treatment, leaving the task unfinished. But who then placed Andrew in the pit and covered it with tiles?"

Bruce continued his perusal of the journal. Initially, it appeared to be empty, but upon further examination, he discovered a single word scrawled in blood on the second-to-last page— "blood."

The word was inscribed with frantic energy, its final stroke smudged as if the writer were interrupted. Bruce experienced a sudden flash of insight: the staff and Andrew had indeed injured each other, but neither had perished. The staff had retreated, and Andrew had managed to drag himself back into the pit, covering it with tiles in an attempt to conceal himself.

"He wasn't just hiding his physical body," Shiller commented, "but also the diary, his theories, and any potential clues. His intention was for those who followed to continue the investigation."

"What a resolute warrior," Bruce mused with a sigh. "But if the staff failed to retrieve the body, did no one else follow up? He injured them, so wouldn't someone have come to confront him?"

"It's probable that he wasn't expected to live much longer, negating the need to send someone specifically to eliminate him. When he eventually passed away and the time came for another cleanup, they simply overlooked it."

"This whole situation strikes me as incredibly amateur," Bruce declared, shaking his head with a sigh. "Leaving a forgotten corpse behind, just disregarding it entirely?"

"Are you only now realizing their amateurish nature?" Shiller scoffed. "Any competent individual designing an escape room would not opt for stone tiles. Would utilizing solid steel panels have presented such an insurmountable problem?"

Bruce was left speechless. The monitoring room lapsed into silence. Mephisto rubbed his forehead, lamenting, "Why did we decide on bricks again?"

All eyes turned to Greed, who had been responsible for conceptualizing the art direction. Greed scoffed dismissively, retorting, "Arrogance devoid of understanding. High-difficulty levels necessitate the purchase of tickets with Points. Without employing multi-faceted aesthetics, and failing to render the environment beautifully to express our style and enhance the atmosphere, if every room looked identical with plain steel panels, who would be inclined to buy tickets next time?"

A profound realization dawned upon everyone simultaneously. It became clear that the core issue was a fundamental misunderstanding of the escape room concept itself—specifically, how to effectively monetize it.