Backrooms Level 1 Novels & Stories

Trigger warning ⚠️ Marianna My bare back came in contact with the cold floor. A sharp pain shot through my head, I wondered where I was. Trying to remember the last thing that happened before I found myself here. The room was pitch black and instantly a fear crept up my body. This scene was familiar and my body was starting to be filled with goosebumps.

Pulte said. Pulte was worried about what might happen. He called Ravitz again and this time he quickly answered. "What's going on? What's happening?" Pulte asked. "Oh, get inside the bunkers and guide other people near you to safety. We're in level 3, the monsters have increased in the northwest wall and a couple of them are already above the city." "Have you contacted the doctors? Are they safe?" "Don't worry, the headquarters is the safest place in the city. Most of the people have already gone underground and uh-"

After making sure the house is assassin-proof, Charlie begins cleaning. Two hours of dancing to High Hopes by Panic! At the disco—on repeat—Charlie was able to clean the house to her satisfaction. The microwave no longer have tiny cobwebs connecting it to the kitchen wall, the bathroom now looked like a human being uses it and her closet no longer looked like a lumberjacked lion's mane. Charlie groans as she falls on her bed, "Ugh! My arms are about to fall off!" She can feel the water from her hair soaking the cream colored duvet underneath her. This makes her jump off and into her closet where she pulls off her bath robe and change into her bear-themed pyjamas set.

She was not falling through open space; her body was pinned flat against a massive, vibrating slate bed that stretched out into the subterranean gloom like a dark, polished continent. ​Every square inch of the stone beneath her back was etched with deep, backward-running runes that writhed and clicked under the immense hydraulic pressure of the descending steel plate above her head. ​The Sixty-Ninth Tier, her mind thundered, her newly unified, multi-ply vision fracturing as the crushing weight forced the multi-colored brilliance of her core to bleed outward in long, pixelated streams of gold, black, and white plasma. This isn't an archive or a proof. This is the bedrock press. The layer wher

I yelped, realizing Ety operated under different rules than I had assumed. "Focus on the material!" Ety commanded sternly. I surrendered my questions for now, but I had learned something crucial: someone else from my world existed in this story. That knowledge alone planted a seed of hope. Ety continued the explanation: "Levels 1 to 100 represent your luck system within this book. However, because you acted inelegantly and begged Julian for affection like a desperate fool, your level dropped dramatically to -13. From this point forward, your luck will be extremely limited."

“Then you move to the next level. But trust me, sweetheart each level’s worse than the last.” I swallowed, staring at the countdown as it reset. Erevos System – Zone 1. Round One: Complete.

Backstage at the Supermodel Showdown, Natalie leaned on Jared’s arm and whispered, “I’m still a little nervous about Clarissa…” Jared’s reply was firm. “She’s no longer your opponent. Today, she’s nothing more than your stepping stone.” However, before he could finish, a commotion erupted at the entrance. Stage lights flashed in every direction, and all eyes turned toward the source. I stood there, clad in Aeterna’s unreleased masterpiece, the Nirvana gown. My presence radiated power, a queen descending to her court. Behind me, my three children were dressed in matching couture. They walked with flawless runway steps, their striking looks capturing every camera in the room.

Rubbing her brow, she said wearily, "You should head out first." "But, Ms. Thorne—" "I said go!" she snapped, her patience worn thin. Maxwell pressed his lips together. Despite his reluctance, he forced himself to step out. After he left, Beatrice went back to her desk. Looking at the error-filled report, a wave of memories washed over her. Seven years ago, I had also been a rookie starting from scratch. I had neither experience nor an outstanding academic background. Surrounded by applicants far more qualified than I was, I barely stood out at all. Yet somehow, I was the only one who made it through the probation period.

My only objective was to find a way to sub-basement level one and put the female out of her misery. I make my way through the compound, not bothering with any of the passkeys that the humans use, making my way up and into sub-basement level one. I make my way through the level and find the right door. I am not surprised when I am ambushed as soon as I enter the room.

I ordered. Then I dropped through the crack. The lower level smelled of blood. Not the fresh, metallic tang of the battlefield, but something ancient. Rotten. Corrupted. My boots hit the stone hard as I landed in a darkness several levels beneath the fight. The sounds of combat became muffled, replaced by something far worse: whispers. Not real voices, but the residual energy of a thousand agonies. The walls themselves felt infected with it. I straightened slowly, senses sharpening as dim red markings began to glow across the corridor ahead. My jaw tightened as my gaze washed over forbidden ritual markings.