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The elevator stank of burnt wiring and adrenal sweat. Lucas Hayes came to consciousness with his cheek pressed against cold steel, the floor vibrating with the machine's perpetual ascent. A cracked display panel flickered: DAY 9 | SAFETY DURATION 00:03:44.

Three warped tones echoed as the system imprinted directly onto his retinas:

[Precognitive Matrix Activated]
[Sector Transition Imminent]

His vision fractured into augmented reality overlays. Bloodshot eyes darted between floating diagnostics:

[Destination: Floor 248]
Threat Classification: Standard Biohazards (Homo corruptus) x20
Recommended Arsenal: Bladed weapons (76% efficacy)
Reward Manifest: Silver Cache (Full eradication required)

Lucas gripped the shock-baton strapped to his thigh, its ceramic surface still smeared with luminescent fungal spores from yesterday's skirmish. The elevator's speakers emitted a decaying piano chord as new text scrolled through static:

[Destination: Floor 249]
Containment Unit: Obsidian Reliquary (SCP-XXXX Variant)
Threat Level: White (Placid)

His boot tapped rhythm against the floor where Natalie Evans had bled out seven cycles ago. The memory played in crystal clarity - her screams syncing perfectly with the elevator's current pitch-shifted rendition of Clair de Lune.

[Destination: Floor 250]
Entity Designation: Noctis lamia (Cognitive Hazard Class C)*
Survival Probability: 41.2±18%

The control panel erupted in fractal patterns as reality glitched. Lucas glimpsed William Carter's skeleton key lodged in the emergency brake slot - the same key that had melted through three layers of Kevlar when its owner died.

"Beta protocol. Always beta." He smashed blood-crusted knuckles against the floor selector. The elevator screamed in harmonic resonance as it deviated from its programmed path.

Doomsday Elevator

After reviewing chatroom content, Ethan initiated elevator upgrade.

The structure shuddered violently as it ascended to Level 5.

Ding! [Quest Complete: Rewards Distributed]

[Overtime Card: Extend elevator closure time in this floor by 1 hour.]

Ding! [New Upgrade Quest: Reach Level 6]

Required: 10 Gold, 200kg Timber, 232kg Iron

The Level 5 elevator's ventilation ducts expanded significantly, now accompanied by a permanent workstation. Unlike game crafting systems, this required actual manual labor using fixed tools that couldn't be removed.

Ethan grimaced at the primitive equipment - his crafting skills plateaued during elementary school art classes. The idea of forging swords or repeating crossbows here was laughable.

[Big Bro, your salt's ready. Listed on exchange for food.]

He navigated to An Lan's exchange listing - "Any food accepted". The reasonable terms impressed Ethan. At the water pool, he selected a 1kg grass carp for trade.

The returned salt quantity proved meager but crucial. Sprinkling it over dinosaur meat, Ethan savored his first seasoned meal in weeks. Beside him, the velociraptor cocked its head, intrigued by "Mom's" newfound appetite.

Post-meal training concluded, sleep claimed him until midnight's system alert:

Ding! [Mandatory Floor: Death Games]

Victory rewards: 20 Gold + 500kg Materials*

The descending elevator settled into a black-and-white checkered arena. Overhead speakers crackled:

[Each ball represents bodily organs]

[Potted balls forfeit corresponding organs]

[Black ball potter claims victory]

[Victors retain all organs/Losers forfeit potted ones]

A trembling girl materialized across the table. "H-hi... Should we start?" Her eyelashes fluttered nervously. "I'm really bad at this..."

Ethan maintained vigilance. Survivalists here were predators, not prey.

"Ladies first." He gestured courteously.

The rack displayed gruesome carvings - eyeball, kidney, cerebral cortex. "Maybe you break?" The girl bit her lip. "I'm Annie... you?"

Annie's "clumsy" break sank two Ethan-tagged organs - left eye and auditory nerve.

"Oh no!" Tears welled up. "I didn't mean to..."

"Standard break outcome." Ethan shrugged.

Her subsequent shot deliberately missed while positioning three kill-shots. Ethan's lips twitched - he'd coached enough club newbies to recognize professional setup.

Death Game I