Nobody spoke.
Everyone tried to control their breathing.
After a few seconds, Mr. Chibueze finally broke the silence.
"That's it?" He let out a short exhale. "After a thirty day countdown… we just end up trapped in a dungeon?"
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Well… it's better than anything I could have imagined."
"Same," Skywhite said, leaning back against the wall with folded arms. "Honestly I thought it was going to be the end of the world."
A few quiet laughs escaped here and there. People started talking among themselves, the tension loosening just slightly — the specific kind of relief that comes not from safety but from finally knowing the worst.
Then Divine pushed her glasses up and asked, "What does everyone's screen say? Are they all the same?"
"It says this is a dungeon," my father answered, his eyes still scanning the text carefully. "We have to clear it to regain our freedom… or stay isolated forever."
A brief silence followed.
"Well." Mmeso tilted her head slightly. "That sounds easy enough."
Everyone turned to look at her.
She glanced around at the staring faces completely unbothered.
"What? It says clear the dungeon. So we clear it."
"You do realize," I said slowly, "that we have absolutely no idea what clearing a dungeon even means in this context."
She looked at me.
"Do you have a better suggestion?"
I opened my mouth.
Then closed it.
She smiled.
"Exactly."
Mr. Chibueze surprised everyone by letting out a short laugh — the first genuine one since the walls appeared. He shook his head slowly before his expression returned to its usual sharpness.
"Alright," he said, his voice shifting back into something firm and commanding. "Laughing time is over."
The group quieted instantly.
"We don't know what's inside these walls with us. We don't know the rules yet. And standing in the open is the worst possible thing we can do right now."
He looked around at each face.
"We go back inside. We study these screens properly. We make a plan."
Nobody argued.
Because nobody had anything better to offer.
I was deep in thought as we moved back inside.
Why does everyone have a private screen?
There had to be a reason. If the goal was simply to pass information, broadcasting it on a single massive screen visible to everyone would have made far more sense. So why give each person their own?
What does individual access mean?
"David."
I kept thinking.
"David."
Nothing.
"DAVID."
I looked up sharply.
Skywhite was staring at me with the particular expression of someone who had been calling a name for an embarrassingly long time.
"You good?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said. "Sorry."
He studied me for a second then let it go, falling into step beside me. I glanced at his white braids and immediately remembered something from four days ago.
"Hey," I said. "Didn't you say you wanted to plait your hair and dye it?"
He cut me a look.
"I said what I said."
"And what exactly was your reason again?"
He was quiet for exactly one second.
"…Because who knew we could be dying soon."
I felt it before I heard it — that specific pressure in the chest right before laughter escapes whether you want it to or not. Beside me Ada buried her face against my arm. Even Mr. Chibueze's mouth twitched slightly.
We all burst out laughing.
Genuinely.
Fully.
The kind of laughter that only hits harder because everything around you is completely falling apart.
Skywhite endured it with dignity.
Barely.
"Okay," he said flatly once we settled. "What were you actually thinking about back there?"
I steadied myself and said, "The screens."
"What about them?"
"Why is each one private?" I asked. "If the point was just to deliver information, one giant screen visible to everyone would have been far more efficient." I paused. "So why give every single person their own?"
The laughter faded quietly.
Skywhite frowned slightly.
Even Mr. Chibueze glanced back at me over his shoulder without breaking stride.
Nobody had an answer.
But the question hung in the air long after I stopped speaking.
We settled back inside the Chibueze residence and Mr. Chibueze wasted no time.
"Screens," he said simply. "Everyone read yours carefully. Top to bottom. Then we share what we find."
Nobody argued.
For the next few minutes the room fell into an unusual quiet — ten people sitting or standing in various corners, eyes focused on text only they could see. The kind of silence that felt productive rather than empty.
I pulled my attention back to mine.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE]
[REGION DETECTED: LAGOS ISLAND]
[STATUS: ACTIVE DUNGEON]
[PRIMARY OBJECTIVE:]
Clear all dungeons to regain freedom or stay isolated forever.
[SECONDARY INFORMATION:]
[CLASS ASSIGNMENT: PENDING]
[ABILITY ASSIGNMENT: PENDING]
[LEVEL: 1]
I stared at the last three lines.
Pending.
So it hadn't assigned anything yet.
Which meant at some point it would.
"Okay," Divine said from across the room, her glasses sliding immediately down her nose as she looked up. "Mine has something extra at the bottom. It says class assignment pending and ability assignment pending."
"Same," Gift said quietly.
"Same here," my mother confirmed.
"So everyone has it," Skywhite said.
"Which means it hasn't activated yet," I said. "Whatever the system is… it's still initializing."
"Or waiting," Mmeso said.
Everyone looked at her.
She had her arms folded loosely, eyes still on her screen.
"Initializing implies a technical process running in the background." She glanced up. "Waiting implies it needs something from us first before it continues."
Silence.
"Those are very different situations," she added calmly.
She was right.
And the distinction made my skin feel slightly colder than before.
"So how do we find out which one it is?" Ada asked quietly from beside me.
Nobody answered immediately.
Then Divine slowly raised her hand like she was still in a classroom.
"…What if we just ask it?"
Every head turned toward her.
She shrank slightly under the attention but held her ground.
"I mean — it gave us each a screen. It's clearly capable of communication. So what happens if someone actually tries to interact with it directly?