Crimson Downpour: The Doomsday Game

Lin Chen opened his eyes amid a splitting headache. Outside the window, the world was shrouded in an eerie crimson glow.

Raindrops hammered the glass in a dense torrent, merging into winding, blood-red streams that trickled slowly over the windowsill. The air was thick with a rusty, metallic sweetness and an indescribable sense of decay, making him instinctively cover his nose and mouth.

“What kind of freak weather is this?” He struggled to sit up and realized he was lying on the floor of his rented apartment, not in his familiar bed. Memories of working overtime until late last night still lingered in his mind. He clearly remembered falling asleep with his head on his desk.

His phone screen lit up in the darkness, making him squint. There was no signal. The time in the upper-right corner was frozen at 3:17 a.m., but the date showed a number he had never seen before: New Era, Year One, Day One.

“A prank?” Lin Chen frowned and picked up his phone. His fingertips felt a chill as they touched the screen. He tried calling emergency services, but all he heard through the earpiece was an unbroken busy signal, as if mocking his futile efforts.

A piercing scream suddenly came from next door, followed by the dull thud of something heavy hitting the floor. Then, silence.

Lin Chen's heart clenched. He held his breath and listened. Faint, shuffling footsteps came from the hallway, as if someone were walking in thoroughly soaked shoes, accompanied by the teeth-grating sound of fingernails scraping against the walls.