#1xshed

Ref

Heavy, exhausting thoughts about his own creation—spawned from ancient hatred—being the chief executioner of this round gave Shedletsky no peace. He felt his fingers tighten, knuckles white, around the leather hilt of the sword at his waist. Drawing the blade prematurely was akin to suicide: Shedletsky knew that the moment steel left its scabbard, a paralyzing weakness would wash over his body. And what if his creation, driven only by the chaotic impulses of its "unstable eye," decided to attack precisely at that moment of vulnerability? Predicting the trajectory of this creature's madness was impossible, and that ignorance poisoned his mind.

At some point, the anxiety festering in John's curly head reached its peak. "Where is Christina? Why have Noob's screams fallen silent? Am I truly alone in this quiet?" The absence of sounds of struggle from the other survivors hit him with a powerful wave of nausea. His stomach twisted into a spasm, and icy sweat ran down his spine, making his clothes cling to his body. He felt physically worse with each second of uncertainty. He spun sharply, hearing heavy footsteps, and saw Guest running towards him. The sight of a living comrade was like a lifeline to Shedletsky. According to the original plan, they were supposed to rotate: Guest was to take Shed's position, allowing him a chance to catch his breath and recharge his gear.

"—Shed! Everything's gone to hell, the plan's not going at all as intended! — Guest panted heavily, his voice cracking. — Noob froze up and lost his way; he just didn't know where to run. Because of that, the entire second ring had to make emergency position changes. Seven went ahead; he needs to try and warn the third ring too, if they're still holding on..."

The administrator merely nodded, silently and grimly. Heading towards the spot where the soldier was supposed to be, he feverishly ran through possible scenarios in his mind. 'If Guest and I are forced to swap so prematurely, then 1x has already breached defenses and cleared the second ring's positions. Does that mean... he should ALREADY have reached the third ring?!' Shedletsky frowned, feeling a vein throb at his temple. He roughly wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and broke into a run. When he reached his destination, a gruesome scene awaited him: his own creation was methodically finishing off Elliot. Vironica was apparently already dead—she was nowhere to be seen, and only the heavy atmosphere of death in the air confirmed his worst fears.

Without further thought of the consequences, John lunged forward. His sword whistled through the air, leaving a deep, gaping wound on 1x1x1x1's back. 1X let out a piercing, hoarse scream, full of otherworldly malice. Taking advantage of this brief stumble, the curly-haired admin grabbed the wounded pizza delivery guy, pulling him aside.

"—Oh my god, Shedletsky! — Elliot broke into sobs, mixing unbearable pain with the wild terror of being so close to death. — Thank you... thank you..."

"—Easy, Elliot. The main thing is you're alive," Shed exhaled, trying not to look at his own trembling hands. — "We need to find one of the healers to patch you up...

Damn it, I don't even have a first-aid kit left..."

Shedletsky straightened up, shielding Elliot with his body. He decided that if a new wave of mass infection started now, he would take the full impact himself, becoming a living shield for Elliot; after all, a healer would be more important than a guardian.

Meanwhile, 1X, possessing frightening regeneration, had already healed the wound he sustained. His movements were jerky and unnatural. A clawed hand slowly reached towards his face, fingers digging into the edge of his eye socket, and with a sickening squelching sound, the creature literally tore its red glow outward, exposing the pulsating energy within.

"—I see you... My creator," 1x rasped, and there was nothing human in that voice. — "I will make you watch me. I will make you see everything you have spawned."

If there were a division of day and night here, I could tell you exactly which was day and which was night. The survivors had long since lost count of their days; they only counted the cycles of hell they had endured. In the main cabin, everyone was preparing themselves both mentally and physically for a new round, staring at the clock by the fireplace. It displayed the time with absolute precision, down to the very second.

Soon, Shedletsky walked in alongside his wife, Brighteyes. They were able to keep each other grounded in this hell. Thanks to Brighteyes alone, Shedletsky managed to stay sane and wear a smile to encourage the other survivors. The administrators shared an unspoken rule: support all survivors and never show weakness.

From another perspective, however, Shedletsky had long lost hope of ever escaping this brutal game. He smiled for everyone—for the other admins, and even for his wife. And believe me, if he ever breaks, it will spell disaster for everyone else trapped here. Think about it: the former Creative Admin, John James Shedletsky the Third, who loved trolling and pulling pranks. Even when people blamed him for a poorly received event, he just created a T-shirt that said "blame John," purely for the joke. How could such a cheerful man lose hope? On the contrary, he was supposed to be the one giving hope to others!

Now, the clock was ticking down the seconds to a new round, a new cycle of this madness and cruelty. Once again, they would have to witness their comrades' suffering. The killers already knew most of the strategies used against them. If nothing else, devising new tactics kept those who weren't as lucky as Shedletsky—to be here with a loved one—sane... though calling it "luck" was a stretch. At least Elliot didn't have to worry about his sister's safety; he could rest assured she was safe and sound.

Enviable, isn't it?

"Well then, break a leg, everyone. As we discussed over dinner, we act immediately, just as we planned," Builderman called out loudly. He was the informal leader, but everyone listened to him nonetheless.

Before the curly-haired man could even glance at the clock, he was teleported to the map. Glass Houses? Not a bad map, especially compared to the other new ones that Shedletsky couldn't seem to memorize. Does "He" do this on purpose to keep the survivors from losing their minds? Who knows.

According to Builderman's plan, which he dubbed the "onion rings," the survivors were to position themselves around a specific point in concentric layers. This time, they chose the center.

"Noob will be the bait for the killer. In case it’s C00lkid, 007n7 will quickly take over his role, so he should stay close to Noob, between the first and second rings. The first ring will consist of TwoTime, Elliot, and Veeronica. TwoTime needs to strike the killer while they are busy chasing the bait, since he'll be invisible. Meanwhile, Veeronica will spray her graffiti around the first ring so we can push the killer. Elliot will be nearby to hand out pizza, but if anything happens, Veeronica must distract the killer from Elliot. So, Elliot and Veeronica must stick together.

In the second ring, we’ll have Guest 1337, John, and Dusekkar. Guest and Shedletsky need to be opposite each other in the second ring to stun the killer from both sides. Dusekkar will protect them and the others in the first ring if needed. And the third ring will consist of me, Taph, and Chance. I’ll place dispensers first in the areas where the killer has been spotted the least. Once a dispenser is up, I’ll move between the third and first rings to set up a turret. Taph will also keep watch on the killer, but he'll place traps in the areas where the killer is spotted most often. Chance will flip his coin to try and get a gun; he's in the third ring because his traits put him at high risk. The rest of you, pay close attention so you can swap in for others in different rings if needed. After all, many of us share similar abilities."

That was the entirety of Builderman's plan. With that, everyone headed to their positions. Shedletsky looked down at his sword. Once upon a time, he had swung it without any restrictions or effort. Now, "He" could easily force Shedletsky—the great, one-of-a-kind Shedletsky—to be so weak that he needed a forty-second cooldown between swings. A single, pathetic swing.

The brown-haired man was already growing bored, just wandering around the area he was supposed to control. But suddenly, he heard the terrified scream of Noob. He spun toward the sound but saw nothing. He realized Noob was running toward the first ring, but then, he heard that all-too-familiar line:

"This is... MASS INFECTION."

Soon after, the phrase was followed by a green crescent wave with black edges. The sound, resembling clashing chains, was painfully familiar to Shedletsky. The killer of this round was 1x1x1x1.

Now, Shedletsky wasn't bored at all. Instead, a dreadful anxiety gripped him.

How is Christina doing? was all that spun through John's mind.

"Nerium Oleander is a beautiful flower, isn't it? Look at its delicate buds, sometimes pink, sometimes pure white. Oleander belongs to a monotypic genus of flowering plants in the Apocynaceae family. Its homeland is a vast belt of dry and semi-dry subtropics. This large evergreen shrub is often used for home decoration. This flower can symbolize beauty and grace, as well as eternal life and immortality. But my absolute favorite meaning of this flower is betrayal. Oleander beckons with its beauty, but I completely forgot to mention that this flower is poisonous. It is highly dangerous. It contains a toxin called oleandrin, which interferes with the cardiac muscle. Funny, isn't it, that it is the oleander that is so close to the heart, rather than some rose?" Azur spoke in his rather low voice. He was addressing his companion, 1x1x1x1, who had trampled his flowers last week and was now helping him replant them. 1X looked at Azur with his crimson eyes, narrowing them.

"I'm already tired of this chatter. Do you think I actually like these weeds? I'm helping you just so you'll stop nagging me," the swordsman gritted out in response. It was rather strange that this entity could relentlessly kill survivors, yet treat the young shoots of violets so gently. Azur only chuckled at his caustic words; he knew 1X far too well to react negatively. 'A creature full of hatred, yet so gentle with flowers. Interesting,' flashed through the florist's mind. He sighed heavily, then took a watering can to water the roses. Azur stealthily observed 1X, who had been staring at the yellow peonies for far too long. 

"Did you see something there? If there's a weed next to the peonies, make sure to pull it out, or I can do it."

"No, Azur, there's nothing. It just reminded me of something,"1 X said, this time without his usual insults or curses.

"Ha, I knew you might take a liking to peonies. After all, peonies are also called the 'kings of all flowers.' And that yellow color on them is so noble. Yes, you have taste, 1x," Azur said with a slight tease, carefully trimming stray leaves from the shrub.

The swordsman soon finished with the violets. The yet-to-be-released killer thanked him, but 1X didn't answer, simply turning around and walking away. On the way to his cabin, a single thought spun in 1X's head: 'What did they remind me of so much?'

Eyes. Right. Eyes. 

Those same golden, bright eyes that blended with yellow skin. Chestnut curls emphasized the gold of those beautiful eyes. A proud smile that shone constantly. A confident stride and a professional stance, just as a true swordsman should have. Shedletsky. That scoundrel decided to occupy the thoughts of a creature of hatred?! How dare he?! Or... is that just what 1x1x1x1 wants to think?

'Oleander means betrayal... Peony is the "king of all flowers,"' a fragment of a memory echoed in his head. Yes, because Shedletsky had betrayed 1X. He had abandoned him. He had condemned him to suffering, because 1X was the embodiment of all of Shedletsky's hatred. Back then, Telamon had decided to rid himself of the rotten part of his soul, creating 1x and abandoning him to his fate.

But Telamon forgot one tiny thing... among all that hatred for others, for work, for everything, there was self-hatred. And now 1X would not rest until he had completely killed his creator, his tormentor, a part of his own soul.

And every round, every damn round, his creator meets him. So bright, so pure, and so cheerful. But nobody knows that it was precisely because of the creation of 1x4 that he became this way. This light beckoned to 1X... after all, in the end, they are one. They cannot exist without each other. 1x4 is the hatred that was discarded, and Shedletsky is the love he kept. It is like black and white stripes intertwining with each other, merging into a single thread of fate being pulled from opposite ends.

It was as if 1X could see himself holding the black thread, lifting his head to see Shedletsky up there, holding the white one. Their eyes met and parted once more. Shedletsky is afraid of him. He is afraid of a part of himself.

Shedletsky rejects it, unwilling to even look at 1x4... at this dark part of himself that was once whole with him. A creature woven from pure hatred desperately craves the attention of its own creator, who long ago abandoned it among his other "mistakes." He was cast aside like an unwanted, disgusting thing, knowing nothing but cold contempt. 1x1x1x1 will never forgive this betrayal by the former administrator.

One day, Shedletsky will surely get what he deserves. 1x will make him suffer again and again, inflicting unbearable pain until 1X himself grows weary of this endless torment. Oh, but he will never tire of agonizing and torturing his creator, for that is exactly what he was created for. He is the living embodiment of Shedletsky's most disgusting and secret thoughts, his basest desires, and his most horrifying actions. 1X is his dark mirror, one that will never shatter, reflecting all the filth of his creator's soul. This eternal torture is the only thing that truly binds them together, and 1x will not allow this bond to break. He will cling to it as his sole purpose, his cursed reason for being.