Allen laid there, in the ashen ground — unmoving — ever since his arrival. The temperature was much more bearable now. He did not know if it was because he started to adapt, or it was nearing night. However, he welcomed the feeling all the same.

Time passed, the temperature had dropped noticeably, and the air had also become less suffocating. Encouraged by the positive feedback his senses provided, he summoned his resolve and carefully pried open his sunken brown eyes.

He was pleasantly surprised; he was able to keep them open this time.

Finally, where the hell is he? He thought, as he turned his head. He stared intently, — peering into the darkness — trying to collect any flicker of information about his surroundings that could be useful.

The first images were of darkness, but soon his pupils further dilated, and now he could make out rough shapes all around him.

Everything was huge. Surrounded by cliffs — he seemed to be located inside a long trench with a width of about 100ft. Though in the darkness it was hard to measure. It could be easily the double the size and he would have no idea. He only hoped that his estimation wasn’t so off the mark. The only source of light reached his pupils — originating from the crystals rigidly embedded in the walls that stretched to the sky.

Allen followed the vertical walls with his eyes, extending upwards endlessly, finally vanishing into the darkness. His only relief was that he couldn’t hear, nor see any monsters around. This meant he had time. Precious time to look for a safe place. He would freak out normally, but he didn’t have the luxury and it could be potentially lethal.

This is utter bullshit. Who the hell set the difficulty to impossible?! He wanted to cry out and vent his frustration but stopped himself in the last moment. He wouldn’t want the monsters to take notice and come for him. Then being lost would be the least of his worries.

He could move now, although barely. He took his time to check his body, though he couldn’t see much in the semidarkness, only rough shapes and murky silhouettes. It is when sight is so severely limited that other senses come into play, like touch.

A realization hit him like a racing train, — his whole body was numb. — How hadn’t he noticed it before?

He carefully touched his face with a hand, only to recoil from the sudden pain. Okay, that confirms it. He had burns throughout his body. Of course, if something burned on the inside, there was a good chance, it would affect the outside as well. Though, why didn’t he think of that when he was having difficulty breathing in the first place? The very air was smoldering.

He suddenly reached up for his hair, he had to confirm this. It was vital. – He couldn’t have gone bald in his early twenties, could he? — He let out a deep sigh, — he confirmed it. It was still there, although his dark locks were heavily damaged. Maybe if he were back home, it could be treated, however in a place like this, there was next to no chance of it being restored.

He slowly gathered himself and after confirming that his backpack was nowhere to be found, he summoned his strength and stood up. Only to fall down a moment later accompanied by unearthly agony. It was such an intense feeling that he almost blacked out. He gently felt at his leg, only for his face to further contort.

Visibility was practically zero, however there were pink crystals embedded into the side of the walls, which gave off a dim light. It wasn’t enough to light the surroundings so he was still in the dark, however he needed that light, he needed every advantage he could get in this hazardous environment. Intent on reaching his goal, he moved.

He dragged himself forward, focused on reaching his destination. It was a grueling experience. The ground burnt his limbs indiscriminately, and the terrain was a true minefield. In the dim, he could only distinguish the greater boulders. It was unbelievably taxing to move forward when there were molten rocks the size of a fist scattered all around the place.

The occasional lava geysers lighted up the surroundings for a few seconds before disappearing. Allen moved slowly, considering every slight movement even as the pain seeped into his flesh. He couldn’t afford it to get hit by a random pillar of fire. It would be the end of him. He had already decided that he would not die in a place like this, that he would return home.

After an hour or so anguish he arrived next to the crimson walls. He moved his leg close to the crystal, and the light was just bright enough that he could see his right leg covered in clotted blood.

There was a huge, cauterized wound on his tight, from the looks of it, a bite mark, — his muscles torn apart, hanging loosely on the bone — gave a nauseating feeling, even to the most hardened stomach. Allen felt the contents of his stomach swirling. Although barely, but he resisted the urge to puke. He felt at his heart beating furiously in his chest, as his eyes lost their focus and his vision blurred further.

Most would have already given up; most minds would have already shattered beyond repair; however, Allen wasn’t so weak willed. He had survived up until now, because he was strong, he was adamant, he was a survivor.

His eyes focused on the wound in disbelief. It was a miracle that the leg was still attached to his torso. Was it a hallucination? Was it real? If so, then why didn’t he bleed out? Why didn’t he feel that?! Can his leg be saved, or it must be severed?

Many thoughts rampaged inside his skull, as he took in the full gravity of the situation. There were torn ligaments hanging around his charred bone, his femur. However, he would have to treat the injury according to his next decision. It would be a shame to die a dog’s death far from home, not knowing what had killed him. He gradually pushed himself to lean on the walls.

He might be selfish, but he didn’t want to lose his leg if there was any chance at all that it could be saved. He was also sure that with a disability like that he would have no way to survive this cruel place, much less return home. There were things that beckoned him to return, things he never got the chance to try. Not to mention his family. The children he grew up with, the children who were left at that damned institution. He summoned forth his determination once more and got to work.

He carefully removed his jeans, and firmly tied it around his wound. It would provide protection, so nothing alien would get into the wound. It would be best if he could sanitize it as well, however he didn’t have anything at the moment that could achieve such a result. He didn’t need an infection of all things now.

He had also intended to remove his pullover, and tie it strictly above the wound, thus applying a makeshift tourniquet, but in the end, he decided against it. The cauterization would be more than enough to stop the bleeding and from the looks of it, it was done in a very high temperature as well, destroying his nerve endings, thus lessening, almost eliminating his pain. It could be a plausible reason why he hadn’t noticed it earlier.

He felt exhausted beyond measure. Leaning against the crimson walls, he searched for a place to rest. He hid inside a narrow gap and soon fell asleep.

…

He was woken from his slumber by an earthquake. He already had troubles crawling, he couldn’t move around at all when the ground shook. He silently prayed that no boulder crashes on him, and it seemed his prayers were answered as he survived the whole ordeal with but a few scratches.

New cracks — barely visible — spread across the wall. If it wasn’t for the light of the crystals, he wouldn’t have noticed.

When the earthquake finally reached its end, the glittering water droplets took his full attention. — He gulped audibly. — Dehydration was already taking its toll on him. The thirst in his throat protested and increased ten-fold the moment he laid eyes on the droplets of life.

He regarded the droplets with greedy eyes, however there was a problem. He didn’t have anything to collect them with. No bottle, no bucket not even a glass. He did not have anything on him at all.

He dreaded his wound opening anytime soon, he would not dare to remove the bandage which could be his last lifeline. It might give him enough time to apply tourniquet if need be. It could be a life saver.

The thirst was getting to him. It would be only a matter of time before he loses control and goes to lick the promising liquid. However, he knew better. He should not drink any water without boiling it first, afterall he didn’t want to get an infection. He sluggishly removed his pullover and used that as a sort of water collector.

After taking off his pullover, he was effectively nude, however he couldn’t care less in a situation such as this. He crumpled it up, then he pressed it against the great wall. While he waited for it to fill, he looked around searching for anything he could use to boil his drink, however he had no luck. Only rocks, crystals, ash, and the occasional lave geysers. He concluded after a few moments of thought, that he better not risk it. He didn’t need another burn.

It took a few minutes for the pullover to absorb enough liquid so that it could be squeezed out efficiently. He really didn’t know how he could boil the water using nothing but his clothes. He didn’t dare risk the pullover catching on fire. Seeing nothing suitable to use as a dish, – not knowing how else to proceed, – Allen took the gamble of his life, and drank.