D3rlord3—Derek Hutchins

You should have listened.
You shouldn't have gone through that door.
You should have erased the world.
So what? Here you are. Walking through endless passageways. Each floor the same length, each one overlapping itself to what seemed like the number of digits in Pi. There was no beginning, nor was there an end.
Yes. You definitely shouldn't have turned left.
But you did it, why? Why did you do it?
For him.
You must save him.
With that mindset, you continued on your way, searching for clues, secret places, any sign of life, or at least that someone, perhaps even HE, had been here. You need to know that at least he's alright.
Your footsteps echoed on the hazel wood floorboards, like a cacophony written with your eyes closed. Messy, clumsy, but at least it was what kept you sane. Well, slightly sane. The sound was starting to tire you, even begin to confuse you. You could have sworn you heard footsteps behind you, voices in a corner, shadows out of the corner of your eye. You were going mad. It was consuming your brain.
There were no people, no animals, no mobs, or even any sign that HE was here.
Until now.
Your gaze fell upon a book on a small desk. The object seemed to have been placed there for some international reason, standing out among the countless identical structures in every corner. You walked slowly, your nerves gnawing at you. You stood behind the desk, reading aloud what appeared to be a diary. It was written hastily, as if it were a ritual.
Upon finishing the book, it seemed to offer no further clues about who you were looking for. Yes, the story was very interesting, but what about him?
It wasn't until the wooden planks you were standing on crumbled that you fell, confused, into a smaller room, surrounded by books. And in the middle of it all, there he was.
"D3rlord3?" you muttered through gritted teeth. Was it really him?
—"Avery." The gentleman said. With a firm posture.