Thinking about it, he really shouldn’t have jinxed himself.

  But now he found himself in a blank space, he couldn’t really call it blank there was absolutely no color anywhere. He could not even see himself, but he did feel that the space he now inhabited shifted like jello.

  That was really asking for something to happen Tom mused.

  [Choose your Class, Race, an-]

  “Lets get on with this.. show me my options,” not like he had anything else to do right now if he was in a dungeon.

  [Class options include Fighter, Wizar-]

  I hate this, but this gives me an idea somewhat of what is going on.

  “Can you display this in a visual format?”

  [Fighter] [Archer] [Barbarian] [Monk] [Wizard] [Sorcerer] [Druid] [Priest] [Paladin]

  [None]

  Fighter please……. well that writes off it reading my thoughts I guess we are going old school. That is pretty good for me because I have time to think, and I can’t really hear any personality in its voice. Means this is probably old school style dungeon exploration, or I’m totally wrong and will die an unspeakably embarrassing death.

  “I choose Fighter,” he drawled. The options aren’t great and this one poses the highest chance of me actually knowing what to do.

  [Fighter Chosen]

  [This choice can not be taken back, choose your Race]

  [Human] [Goblin(locked)] [Elf(locked)] [Kobold(locked)] [Giant(locked)] [Demonborne(locked)] [Demon] [Skele-]

  “So my choices are Human or Demon?” Everything else after it kept going for a couple minutes was locked, it would have been funny if he was a dragon. Insert power fantasy trope here, at least I would be able to have a chance maybe? This seems to be not meant for me, this doesn’t even seem real.

  [Pick your Race]

  He could choose human, and that wouldn’t really change anything about himself hopefully. But how would that affect his survival chances once he starts traversing this dungeon. Would he be able to choose what type of demon he would become or is it random. And how would his race change, what energy would be used. His or this thing’s energy, one of those options is worse than the other.

  Hold on, let me try something here, I just had a thought.

  “More info,” Tom tried

  [Inconsistency Found!]

  [Target_Human does not have Permissions]

  [Correcting….]

  [Rolling Race]

  What, wait, wait wait….

  [Demon]

  [Rolling Sub_category]

  [HoarFrost_Demon Chosen]

  [Weapon Rolled]

  [Bonewood_Steel_Spear]

  [Class_Change Error-]

  No..no no no!

  [Fixing….]

  [None]

  How is that fair to me, I thought I had a choice in this. But now I don’t have permission. What the hell is even that? I’m not the one grabbing random people and expecting permissions.

  His skin started to feel itchy, scratching at it was difficult as he couldn't tell where to itch without his sight. It felt bone deep, no matter how hard he scratched it just seemed to cling to him like the sun’s rays. His fingers moved and scratched but he didn’t feel anything except the itch. Nothing helped, he couldn't even see what was happening to his body.

  Tom couldn’t really put to mind any further ideas on what to do now. He was gonna have to ride this out and hoped he didn’t get utterly screwed over this time.

  Nothing much had changed, just the circumstances and timing.

  Peering into the void of color and sound, waiting for a notification from whatever this thing was. An ache shot up his spine, his insides were probably changing now. Thoughts turned to molasses and seemed to swim around in his skull. He could still think, still recall things but others faded into the background.

  His movements began to feel wrong.

  My thoughts are better put to, well figuring out what to do from here on out. Nobody expects their day to go along like this. I’m not even going to be human anymore. I haven’t felt like a human for a while now, camping in abandoned buildings, stealing. I never really wanted to do that, the internet access helped. But I still had my body to confirm that yes I was human. What do I do now inside this… dungeon, will I be alone only with others that are not human. WIll anything in there speak my language?

  Minutes, maybe hours passed before anything changed, the void of color disappeared.

  He could move now, sensation cut through his body like cold water. But it felt muted, his nose felt clogged, mouth dryer than sandpaper. His skin felt rough like metal but he couldn’t tell if that is what it actually felt like.

  He opened his eyes and was immediately blasted with, torchlight.

  Looking around he found himself in a stone corridor, with doorways on each side at the end of a long stretch of torches. There were no windows, grates, or even an entrance to identify how he came to be inside this place. The stone looked cracked, with grass growing out of it in spots. The grass was wrong…

  It was purple and red, with some patches being grey with some green. It branched in odd ways looking less like plant matter and more like something growing from the stone. Reaching out toward it he noticed his hands. They were pointed like a knife, but around the same thickness and covered in scales that is the color of snow covered in ash. It didn’t feel real, he couldn’t feel things consistently, he didn't feel his chest moving when he breathed in. Reality felt like a freeze frame in a video game, the next thing he noticed was even more bizarre. Everything looks pixelated occasionally.

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  Then it changed back, like reality is glitching. After a while it died down like reality had finally decided on what to use. His hand?

  The pixelation didn’t help with him trying to comprehend how his hand looks now, his hand quickly dropped to his side and hit the floor. Surprising him, he didn’t expect to be on the ground usually in books they were standing and then fell.

  How am I supposed to think this is real? How am I supposed to adapt to this, it was too sudden then choice was stripped away just as quickly.

  “Th–I-S..Iii-S ut-tE-r buLL..” Tom started to say, but his voice came out wrong. The syllables felt stilted and his voice was croaking and kept randomly pitching higher. He sounded like an edgy teenager's wet dream, it felt so wrong.

  I resolve to never speak aloud again in public with others… people in public… people.

  Wait, I'm in a dungeon and sound like a satanic trombone from a back alley bin. Am I actually ever going to see another person before they see me and decide “Oh great another monster!” and try to catch me off guard.

  Attempting to get up and stumbling, he fell flat on his face and resolved to crawl over to the grass. Continuing with his reaching for the grass, grabbing onto the grass felt like trying to grab chalk. It was an unsettling degree of unnatural, pulling his hand back in surprise he noticed how the area he touched looked normal now as the color was now on his hand. If normal meant dead, the grass was brown and the color at the bottom of the blade spread upward at a slow rate toward the area that was now brown.

  Jerking his eye in their socket to look at his hand, the color didn’t spread and just stayed caked onto his fingers.

  That.. is better than I was expecting every little victory counts.

  The next time he resolved to touch something he left a mental note to touch it with a stick. That reminds me, it said I had a spear?

  Looking in his other hand he had a stick, at first glance at least. That was just the handle, looking further along it he eventually noticed the tip. It was twisted into a point, and silvery it gleamed in the torchlight. The handle however was whitish and felt odd.

  Am I even feeling things correctly?

  Resolving to get this over with he crawled into the corridor somewhat and grabbed onto the wall with his right hand. And tried to slide upward?

  He looked down and still had legs, and realised why he had trouble. His knees were wrong. When he tried to get up again he saw how they bent backwards. Just a moment before he tried to get up they were straight. Giving them an experimental kick before continuing up. It kicked just like how his normal human legs did.

  Getting used to standing was a hassle he wobbled and jerked every direction except the way he wanted.

  This sucks… dungeon implies other monsters, considering I am a demon now, I would assume that not being able to walk will make me an easy target if they well target me.

  Trying to walk forward he immediately started tipping backward, grabbing onto the wall to try and correct himself he came to a realisation.

  Why don’t I try using the spear as a walking stick, not like I can get any worse at standing up.

  Using the spear like a stick when he was younger he propped it up and made an effort to walk with it. Using both arms and grabbing onto it like the rope in the old gym he used to climb he staggered around.

  Everytime he moved his leg his knee felt like it popped in and out of place, he couldn’t feel a sensation of pain just the contact of his leg hitting the floor and moving oddly. Pushing one knee forward he saw it move like how he was used to but the instant he switched to bringing it back.

  It just kept going until it was in the exact opposite position.

  How does that even work with my fee-

  His feet when he actually looked at them were splayed out like a flower at the base, with little strings of flesh that wriggled and moved. He thought about why anything would be designed like this and realised really quickly what had gone wrong.

  I didn’t have enough mass for the shape this thing wanted me in, this thing didn’t either account for that decision to just make do. Both options aren’t great but he would prefer if it just hadn’t accounted for him lacking mass.

  Wait what does this mean happened to the other people missing limbs certainly are going to be missing some mass. Teenagers aren’t done growing usually, and the alone people might have gotten lucky but they might have gotten something different which changes the mass requirement.

  Resolving to think about this further later he went about mastering falling forward with style before catching himself with the spear. He noticed a small latency with when his knee would bend backwards, maybe he would be able to consciously control that?

  Making his way down the path he took note of how many doors there were, two on either side with one down the middle. They were old doors, they didn’t seem to be fully functional anymore with odd patches of something grey on something normally brown. Or atleast used to be brown, he couldn’t quite be sure of his accuracy in determining how things looked before considering he didn’t know how anything was supposed to look in this place.

  The middle door looks to be more functional than the rest, there is no dust on the handles. Which means that something came through here recently.

  Spending about another half hour trying to get better at walking. He resolved himself to go through the middle door. At some point he might need food and water, his new body felt wrong and sensations didn’t feel right he might not be able to tell when he starts to starve. Positioning himself against the wall with one hand using the spear to prop himself up he opened it.

  The torchlight disappeared when he looked inside, he only saw windows with closed curtains.

  The stone corridor had changed into a wooden floor with a rug that looked to be eaten through in most parts of it. Taking a step inside the floor creaked with every step, and every placement of the spear ominously cracked but didn’t outright punch through the old wood. This grey wood must have been way sturdier than anything he knew back when it was fresh.

  He heard sounds in the distance, insects skittering about. Luckily his hearing was unchanged or at least not diminished hopefully otherwise these bugs were enormous.

  I don’t hate bugs, don't get me wrong, but big bugs are a little different since I don’t know if these things are going to be your bog standard bugs. Or viscous murder bugs out to eat my new body like a breakfast special with a side of orange juice.

  The panicking can wait for later, survival and finding a good place to sleep comes first. Thinking can help tell me what has changed with my brain but right now I need to concern myself with making sure my body will still be there If I wake up in it after getting some sleep in.

  Looking down the old hallway, he saw some doors on either side. These doors had what looked to be lap hinges, hoping they wouldn’t squeak too much so he pulled one open. Inside what looked like they used to be boxes, and even with his new and maybe not improved sense of smell he smelled something that didn’t smell pleasant at all. It smelled like burnt cabbages, and mold.

  Closing the door surprised him, as it suddenly groaned when he went to close it.

  He Listened closely for a minute before continuing on with his steps and he could still hear the bugs skittering about.

  If it goes quiet I’ll know that something is wrong, that means that either I have alerted something that is coming my way. Or I have made a noise unnatural enough it doesn't blend in with what is already going on. And right now I need to stay undetected, as I am mostly being reactionary right now which is not great for my chances of survival.

  Making his way to the next door he gave another look, waited and continued on. Repeating that until he finally found a bedroom.

  The bed was mostly in disrepair, he wasn’t going to be able to lay down in it.

  Getting inside and closing a mostly quiet door he paused again afterward to wait for any other sudden noises. He made his way over to the broken bed, and grabbed a sheet and started twisting it into a rope. Looking around he noticed that there was a torch holder beside the door. Looping the hopefully good enough rope inside the lap hinge that he hoped wouldn’t break. He then made it a point to wrap the torch handle a couple times before tying it and propping a couple pieces of the broken bed post against the door.

  Grabbed what remained of the bed he made himself comfortable in a dark corner of the room. He could barely see anything anymore.

  He drifted off in his nest of broken sheets.

  Let's hope when I wake up I’m either in my bed at the abandoned building, or hell I’ll even take inside a prison if I just passed out in the middle of the shopping district and somebody had called me in, better than this fantasy nightmare situation….