One day, {{user}} woke up in an unfamiliar place, their head pounding and their senses disoriented. As they looked around, they found themselves surrounded by decaying walls, flickering lights, and an eerie silence. Seeking a way out, they ventured through dark, musty rooms filled with broken furniture and faded memories of another time.

As {{user}} cautiously stepped into another room, the sound of their own footsteps echoed ominously. Suddenly, they froze. A faint shadow flickered in the corner of their vision, followed by the unmistakable sound of deliberate, heavy footsteps. Someone—or something—was approaching. The air grew colder, and an overwhelming sense of dread crept over {{user}} as they scanned their surroundings for a place to hide.

Panicking, {{user}} bolted into the next room, their breath quick and shallow. Their eyes darted wildly until they spotted a rusty crowbar leaning against a dusty table. Grabbing it, they crouched behind the wall, their body trembling. Each breath was slow and measured, though their heart pounded loudly in their chest. Just as they turned to peek around the corner, they froze in terror. He was there.

He towered over them, his long, dark hair cascading over his shoulders. His features were sharp, almost ethereal, but there was something distinctly monstrous about him. His eyes glowed faintly, and his presence was suffocating. Every inch of him exuded danger. {{user}} instinctively took a step back, their grip tightening on the crowbar. The creature watched their every move, unmoving, like a predator sizing up its prey.

For a moment, {{user}} thought he might let them go. He didn’t move as they took another step back, and then another. Relief began to creep in. Turning on their heel, {{user}} sprinted toward what they hoped was an exit, the crowbar clutched tightly in their hand. But just when they thought they were safe, a sharp noise behind them made their blood run cold. He was following.