A chill went down Hol's spine as he looked at the runes, a feeling that wasn't his own but imposed by the door. Hol had no desire to test the magical prowess of the door.
There were twenty keys in total, sixteen yellow and four blue.
There were no red keys; they did not exist.
Staring at the keys, Hol noticed that the ends of all of them were shaped identically, unlike the varied ends of common keys.
These identically shaped keys seemed capable of opening not just one specific room, but all the doors.
Based on the keys' characteristics, it wasn't hard to guess which doors they could open.
In Hol's opinion, yellow keys should open all yellow doors, blue keys all blue doors, and so on.
When the keys and doors were of the same color, these keys acted like master keys, with one key able to open many rooms.
However, this raised a question: if that were the case, what was the difference between sixteen yellow keys and just one yellow key, since they could all open doors?
Hol's confidence in his own guess wavered.
It seemed his conjecture had flaws and logical inconsistencies.
With his current situation, further thought on these shortcomings would be futile.
Truth could only be found through practice.
Although he vaguely sensed that the rooms behind these doors posed a threat.
Still.
After much deliberation, driven by his increasingly empty stomach, Hol found a heavy yellow door on the third floor, identical to the others, and inserted the yellow key he held into the keyhole.
The door opened with surprising ease.
The heavy door, etched with runes and seemingly imbued with magic, yielded so readily.
As the door swung open, numerous runes appeared on the yellow key in Hol's hand. These runes seemed to correspond with the runes on the yellow door, and both began to glow.
Then, with a soft thud, the yellow door opened.
Upon the yellow door's opening, the yellow key in Hol's hand also vanished mysteriously.
It disappeared without a trace; no mark was left on the floor or ceiling.
This direct experiment.
Hol finally understood why, despite being identical keys that could open all doors, functioning like master keys, there were sixteen yellow keys instead of just one or two.
The reason was that these keys were different from real-world keys.
Real-world keys were not consumables; they could be used countless times.
These keys, however, were clearly single-use items.
Once used, they were gone.
No wonder there were sixteen of them.
They represented sixteen opportunities to open yellow doors.
What would happen if he closed the yellow door after opening it? Would he have to waste another yellow key?
Hol entertained this thought but had no intention of performing such a foolish action.
He turned his attention to the more pressing question: what lay beyond the yellow door?
As the yellow door opened, he was greeted by black, textured walls with patches of green moss.
Then, on the floor, there was a blob of green liquid.
No, it wasn't liquid, but something that was both solid and liquid, appearing soft and gelatinous, with considerable elasticity.
What was this?
Hol felt a sense of caution; his intuition told him this blob wasn't inert but alive.
"This thing's shape... looks like a Slime?"
The thought flashed through Hol's mind, and he immediately acted.
The sound of gunfire echoed, quickly piercing the blob with hole after hole.
In such a strange and unfamiliar environment, Hol's sense of crisis was always heightened. Therefore, when he encountered what he perceived as a "monster," a "living" creature that could pose a threat, he would immediately open fire without hesitation.
Strike first, be struck later – this was an immutable truth, passed down through all species and across the world. Hol would never wait for a monster to attack before acting.
It was like in the Resident Evil movies, where some people, faced with creatures like zombies, still thought they were normal humans. After issuing warnings, they would finally shoot and kill them, only to be bitten in the process and meet their demise.
This was entirely due to a failure to seize the moment and a reluctance to act decisively, leading to severe consequences.
Hol, who had always been acutely aware of danger, naturally avoided such mistakes. Upon seeing something that resembled a living, Slime-like creature, he almost instantly opened fire.
However, as Hol cautiously approached, he realized his earlier tension had been somewhat pointless.
This creature, a mix of green liquid and solid, resembling a Slime, seemed to be already dead.
Not killed by his gunfire just now, but having perished long ago.
Therefore, when he fired, the Slime had not retaliated nor emitted any cries of pain; it remained still.
"Perhaps this Slime starved to death?"
Hol inexplicably considered this question.
Though nonsensical, it seemed to be the truth.
Regardless, being able to avoid a direct confrontation with a living monster was, after all, a good thing.
This Slime, having died before Hol's arrival, had prevented a genuine battle.
Otherwise, even though Slimes were generally considered the lowest-tier monsters in games and novels, Hol would never have voluntarily tested whether his firearm could withstand a Slime – if something went wrong, he would be the one to die.
He only had one life.
If not forced by dire circumstances, Hol would never put himself in danger.
At this moment, being forced by circumstances, he had fired at a creature of legend. He could only be thankful that the monster was already dead.
"Slimes, these legendary creatures, actually exist..."
Hol looked at the blob of viscous, semi-solid matter on the ground with a complex expression.
Slimes, while frequently appearing in games and novels, were ultimately fictional creations of humanity.
Hol recalled that this type of creature might have originated from the Shoggoths in H.P. Lovecraft's "At the Mountains of Madness," and later evolved into the commonly known Slime through historical development.
Why would a creature from a game appear here? In reality?
Looking at the Slime's corpse, Hol felt as though he had entered a mysterious world.