System of the Shadow Plague

The silence in Block C of Salemba Prison was not the usual heavy, stagnant quiet of a midnight lockdown. It was an unnatural vacuum, a deafening absence of sound that made the air feel thin and pressurized.

Reza sat on the edge of his thin, lumpy mattress, staring at the small, cracked smartphone he’d smuggled in weeks ago. He had been checking the time, counting down the seconds until his sister’s birthday—a day that always felt like a jagged piece of glass in his chest. A reminder of the empty seat at the table, the fire that took her, and the life he’d thrown away in his grief-fueled descent into crime.

00:03.

00:02.

00:01.

00:00.

The screen didn't display "Happy Birthday." It flickered, dying into a static pulse of abyssal violet. Then, the entire cell block plunged into absolute darkness. Outside the barred window, the city lights of Jakarta, usually a sprawling, humming constellation of orange and gold, vanished. It was as if a giant hand had snuffed out the world like a guttering candle.

"Hey, what the hell?" a voice shouted from the neighboring cell. "Is the power out?"

Reza didn't answer. A cold, prickling sensation crawled up his spine, the phantom heat of the fire that had claimed his sister blooming in the back of his mind. Before he could move, a guttural, wet tearing sound echoed from the corridor. It sounded like meat being stripped from bone, followed by a wet, sliding thwack.

The guard, a man named Pak Budi who usually spent his shifts snoring behind a plastic desk, approached Reza’s cell. But the rhythm of his footsteps was wrong. Instead of the steady clack-drag of his heavy boots, there was a sickening, fluid suction, like mud hitting the floor.

"Reza," the guard wheezed. The voice wasn't human. It sounded like two tectonic plates grinding together, layered over the frantic, high-pitched sobbing of a dying animal.

Reza stood, his fingers closing around a piece of jagged rebar he’d pried from the concrete weeks ago. "Budi? You alright, man? You sound like crap."

The guard lurched into the sliver of light coming from the hallway emergency backup, which flickered and died. In the transition, Reza saw it. Budi’s uniform was shredding, not by force, but by expansion. His skin was turning the color of a bruised plum, then dissolving into a shifting, oily void. His limbs elongated, joints popping and snapping into inverse angles, turning into spindly, razor-sharp obsidian stalks.

The creature’s face elongated, the jaw unhinging until it hit its chest, revealing rows of needle-teeth that pulsed with a faint, necrotic light.

"Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me," Reza whispered, his pulse hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.

The shadow-horror lunged, moving with a speed that defied physics. It was a blur of smoke and malice. Reza dove, the creature’s clawed hand raking through the air where his head had been, slicing through the steel bars of the cell door as if they were made of butter. The screech of tortured metal echoed, a high-pitched protest that grated against Reza’s teeth.

"Come on, then!" Reza screamed, his voice cracking. He didn't think about his impending death; he thought about the smoke, the heat, the feeling of helpless failure that had defined his life. He wasn't going to die in a cage again.

He feinted left, dropping to his knees, and thrust the sharpened rebar upward. It sank into the creature’s torso—or where the torso should have been. There was no blood, only a cold, viscous mist that hissed as it touched his skin. The creature shrieked, a sound that vibrated in Reza’s skull, and backhanded him with a force that sent him flying into the concrete wall.

Reza gasped, his vision swimming with red sparks. His ribs screamed in protest. The creature stood over him, its shadow-form undulating, growing larger, its elongated fingers twitching with anticipation. It hungered. In the center of its shifting mass, he saw a glowing, pulsating core—a knot of concentrated darkness.

Reza rolled to the side just as the creature’s hand slammed into the floor, shattering the concrete. He saw the heavy, manual-release blast door leading to the maintenance shaft. It was heavy, a relic of the prison’s old design. If he could draw it in—

"Hey! Over here, you overgrown inkblot!" Reza shouted, scrambling to his feet.

The creature hissed, its form narrowing as it darted toward him. Reza sprinted, his breath tearing at his lungs, and dived through the narrow gap of the maintenance shaft. As the creature followed, surging forward like a tidal wave of shadow, Reza lunged for the release lever.

He didn't just pull it; he threw his entire body weight against it.

CLANG.

The heavy steel slab slammed down, a guillotine of cold iron. There was a sickening squelch followed by an explosion of dark energy that rattled the floorboards. The creature was severed, its upper half pinned, writhing and dissolving into thick, oily puddles of shadow.

Reza collapsed on the other side, shaking uncontrollably, his heart rate finally beginning to descend from the stratosphere. He stared at his trembling hands, wondering if he was dreaming, wondering if he’d finally snapped.

Suddenly, a series of neon-blue lines began to etch themselves across his vision. They weren't in the room; they were in his eyes.

[ SYSTEM INITIALIZED ]

[ HOST CONFIRMED: REZA ARDIAN ]

[ CURRENT STATUS: SURVIVOR ]

Reza blinked, rubbing his eyes, but the text remained, hovering in the air like a ghost.

[ QUEST START: ESCAPE THE PRISON ]

[ OBJECTIVE: Reach the prison perimeter. ]

[ PENALTY FOR FAILURE: PERMANENT ERASURE. ]

Reza stood up, his legs feeling like jelly. He looked back at the dying shadow-creature, then out into the darkened, screaming maze of the prison.

"System?" he whispered, his voice dry. "What the hell is this? I’m just trying to make it to morning, man."

The interface flickered, a soft, predatory hum filling his ears. [ 00:59:59 UNTIL ERASURE. ]

Reza gripped his piece of rebar tighter. The prison had changed, but the goal remained the same. He had to run.