Level 195: "A Second Chance"

“This path leads home—so why turn away from the one thing you crave?”

生存难度:

未分级

•性质未解明

•信息未知

•未探明实体

I roused from endless pitch-black darkness.

Faint fragmented memories lingered of how I’d lost consciousness in another Level.

A searing, all-consuming pain clouded my mind, erasing every clear thought I tried to grasp.

I dragged myself upright off the ground.

The floor sank softly under my weight, damp and waterlogged, a thick fluid seeping up with every step I took.

Gradually the haze lifted, letting me see the world around me clearly.

I stood within an infinitely stretching corridor.

The liquid pooling beneath my feet was not water at all—it was thick, deep crimson fluid.

A cold, terrible intuition settled heavy in my chest: it was blood.

I pulled a pocket watch from my coat and flipped it open.

Tucked inside was a faded photograph of my whole family.

Ever since slipping into the Backrooms, returning to my family in the Frontrooms had been my only wish, my sole reason to keep wandering.

But as years dragged on without hope, my longing slowly faded into despair.

I’d long accepted I would never return to the warm, gentle life I’d left behind, never embrace my family again.

Then I spotted words etched into the wall.

Kill her.

I could not figure out who this message spoke of.

Moments later, another line bloomed across the plaster: Kill her, and you may return to your family. Have you forgotten how you ended up here? Listen to me—end her life, and I will send you back. It is the only way to see the loved ones you’ve spent years aching for.

These words tangled my heart into confusion and agony.

Could I truly trust this promise carved into the wall?

I continued walking down the endless corridor, torn between my longing and my unease.

Up ahead, a lone figure stood with their back to me.

Instantly, the walls were covered over and over with the same phrase: Kill her. Kill her. Kill her.

A fleshy hand burst through the wall’s surface, pressing a sharp blade into my trembling palm.

The wall twisted and split open into a writhing mouth, whispering insidious temptations that preyed on my longing for home: Slay her, and you will get your life back with your family. This is your second chance. Do you not miss them deeply? Have you forgotten their faces? Why have you wandered every twisted Level of this place if not to return to the ones you love? Trust me—this is your only shot.

My rationality frayed away bit by bit, eaten alive by my desperate yearning to go home.

Once the hunger to reunite with my family took full hold of my mind, all sense of reason vanished completely.

At last, I clutched the knife tight and rushed toward the figure.

The pale steel sank deep into their body; crimson liquid coated the blade as I pulled it free.

Blood soaked the pale shirt they wore.

They spun around, and I saw their face.

They cried out my name.

It was my little sister—the only sibling I had left in the world.

This brutal realization snapped me back to clarity, but it was far too late. Her life was already gone.

I crumpled to the ground, clutching her lifeless body, weeping bitterly while broken laughter spilled from my throat.

The walls filled with endless mocking “ha”, as if the space itself was sneering at my irreparable mistake.

Two doorways materialized before me.

The first bore the words: "Go Home."

The second read: "Resurrect her, and send her back to the Frontrooms."

Without hesitation, I moved toward the second door.

As my fingers brushed the handle, new text seeped across the wall: Are you absolutely certain of this choice? This door will chain you to endless, unending grief and suffering for all eternity. Even if she returns safely, she will dismiss all of this as nothing more than a vivid, frightening dream. Would you not rather walk through the first door, to hold your other family members once more? They are still waiting for you…

“I am already lost to this place,” I said firmly. “I will not trade an innocent person’s life to buy my own way back.”

I stepped fully through the second doorway without wavering, fully aware permanent suffering waited for me on the other side.

Inside the small chamber rested a single handgun, carved with a quiet warning: Press this to your temple. End your suffering quickly.

I lifted the gun and pressed its barrel to my forehead.

I squeezed the trigger...

But at the last instant, I twisted the weapon and emptied every bullet into the corridor walls, screaming all my helpless grief and regret into the empty space.

Nothing changed. All my rage and sorrow were meaningless.

The gun clicked empty, no shots left to fire.

Once more, mocking “ha” flooded the walls, jeering at my futile attempt to resist this place’s cruel will.

Massive raw slabs of flesh sprouted from every wall and floor, wrapping my entire body until I could not move.

I merged permanently into the fabric of this Level.

I am condemned to watch every wanderer who arrives after me repeat my terrible mistake: consumed by homesickness, they will hurt the person they care about most.

I must feel every ounce of their crushing heartbreak firsthand, trapped in their pain forever.

With the last faint spark of my sanity remaining, I carved a warning deep into the wall:

"Do not take the blade."

……

……

...

Do not take the blade

……

Countless wanderers have stumbled into this Level ever since.

Only a tiny fraction choose the door that leads back to the Frontrooms.

Desperate words pile higher on the walls with every new arrival; each soul’s reason and calm is slowly burned away by their longing for home.

Perhaps catching just one fleeting glimpse of family in a dream is all any of them can ever hope for.

This place will cease to exist the day humanity’s memory of the Frontrooms fades away entirely.

Though miles and lifetimes separate us, may every heart hold onto the love of their family.

---

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Zhov (我是路过的火柴人) << 作者
无图像/具体图源网址 << 图像来源
也是把它翻译成英文了但这个是用AI译的 << 附注