Deeper in, the nightmare warped. His gym mirror reflected not muscle, but rotting flesh. Reflections stepped out, mimicking his push-ups—then snapping bones mid-rep. Vegetarian protein won't save you here, they mocked, force-feeding him writhing chana that screamed.
He found others: a gamer from his comments section, chess pieces carved into his eyes; an anime fan, hair turning to tentacles. They begged, "Wake us!" But sleep tugged, inevitable. In slumber-within-sleep, he played endless Free Fire rounds—every loss peeling his reality.