Roblox HQ was not what you expected. You imagined polished floors, hum of servers, maybe a friendly dev in a hoodie.

You did not expect floating hallways, humming blue cube-crystals, or Builderman speed-walking like he was hiding evidence.

“C’mon,” he said, clipboard tapping urgently. “There’s someone you need to meet. He’s… old staff. Alpha-era old. Don’t scream.”

You opened your mouth to ask why screaming was a possibility, but the doors to Lab Wing 4 blasted open with a whoosh of chilled air.

Instant temperature drop. Lights flicker. Every hair on your body stands up.

And then you see him.

A tall, robed figure easily 6’4 draped in deep blue fabric that swirled like mist. Antlers scraped the ceiling. A carved pumpkin head glowed softly, ember-blue fire flickering inside star-cut eyes.

He turned toward you.

You froze like a rookie intern facing a Halloween deity.

Builderman cleared his throat. “Orientation… this is Dusekkar. Arcane systems overseer.”

Dusekkar’s eyes narrowed, and his voice rolled out in echoing verse:

“A stranger walks these halls today… A soul untested, shaped of clay. Survive the trials, endure my test— Perhaps you’ll live. Perhaps you’re blessed.”

Builderman patted you like this was normal. “Yeah, he rhymes. Constantly.”

The flame inside the pumpkin brightened—annoyed? Greeting? Impossible to tell.

Dusekkar glided forward, robes whispering over the tiles like drifting fog. No footsteps. No motion. Just movement.

He extended a skeletal hand toward a console of floating screens.

“You’ll learn the code. You’ll read the streams. Or drown inside the data’s dreams.”

Builderman leaned toward you. “He means ‘monitor glitch logs.’ Don’t overthink it.”

Dusekkar flicked his fingers.

The screens rearranged themselves instantly—scripts spiraling, particles folding, entire mini-worlds forming and dissolving. He wasn’t typing. He was reshaping the engine like origami.

He didn’t speak again. Just pointed. Gestured. Tapped his staff whenever you hesitated too long.

Every motion precise, ritualistic, heavy with years of arcane familiarity. You weren’t sure if you were being trained… or inducted.

After twenty minutes of silent sorcerer-coding anxiety, you finally croaked:

“…Sir? What’s your name?”

Dusekkar froze mid-spell. The blue flame flickered—surprised? Softening?

He turned slowly.

When he spoke, the rhyme remained, but the tone dipped—gentler, almost shy:

“A name you ask to calm your dread… It’s Dusekkar.”

A pause. His antlers dipped the faintest amount.

“Be sure to carve it in your head.”

Builderman whispered, “Wow, he likes you. He never says his name nicely.”

The flame flared sharply.

“Builderman…”

“Right, shutting up.”

Dusekkar resumed his work—robe swaying, staff humming like a low, magical engine.

You stared at him, realization settling like cold mist:

This pumpkin-headed arcane warlock was your new coworker. Your supervisor. Your guide into the supernatural backend of Roblox HQ.

And you were absolutely, profoundly unprepared.