The man looks satisfied at my declaration of a name. He turns back and begins speaking with the woman who spoke to him earlier. I hear him repeat my name with butchered pronunciation. More and more people wearing the same brown robes have been trickling into the hot room since I woke up, so it’s gotten a bit packed. The new people don’t seem to have any injuries, though.

There are a few other people that occasionally try to approach me but the others scold them and hold them back any time that happens. I’m either viewed as incredibly dangerous, or incredibly fragile.

That “Itor” guy is the only one to get close to me so far, so I’m guessing he’s the head of whatever is going on here. Or, at least, he’s the most qualified person present. Well, maybe both him and that other woman; he seems to have been reporting his findings to her, which seems strange; I mean, they’re both in the room with me.

Those two are currently having a slightly hushed conversation in the corner of the room. So, despite the room being well-worn with similar bloodstains to the fresh ones - implying that whatever’s going on in here has happened before many times - the fact that nothing is being immediately done means there is no established routine for whatever event my waking up is. Something about my being here is unique, I’d guess.

They finish their discussion and both walk up to me, they grab one of my arms each, restraining me and bringing me to my feet. They’re both muscular, but they definitely aren’t using their full force doing this. This brings the assumption to my mind that they are attempting to be firm but friendly with me.

Or, at least, they’re trying to make me assume that that’s what they’re doing. Either way, it’s best to just go with them. Most of my fighting tactics rely on surprise. I feign weakness, indifference, or simply hide my true intentions.

In this case, these people are obviously on edge and are assigning two people that are much bigger than me just to guide me out of a door, so they clearly don’t underestimate me. In this situation, I wouldn’t even be a match for a single one of the two restraining me, but both of them with dozens of others surrounding me… yeah. I just need to go along with whatever’s going on for now.

They begin walking me out of the room. The rest of the people stay, discussing something in hushed tones.

Itor, the woman, and I exit into a stone hallway, about seven or eight feet wide. Compared to the bustling, cramped room we just came from. This new hallway feels dead silent and agoraphobic; it’s too big and empty to be comfortable.

Now that I'm out of the crowded room, I'm able to confirm something. In the room, it felt strangely hot and humid during what should have been a cool winter morning, but, at the time, I wasn't sure whether that was from the body heat of all those people or not.

But at this point, in such an empty corridor, it's clear. It's just the weather. Somehow, the temperature rose about forty to fifty degrees overnight. Before I can think about this too much, though, we begin walking down the hallway.

There are dozens of wooden doors lining the hallway, all identical to the one we just came out of. In addition, embedded into the walls of the hallway are a few containers of what seems to be cloth. The one closest to the door we exited from is almost fully depleted.

I'd assume that those cloths are supposed to be used as bandages, especially since the room I came from was full of injured people. The only light sources are some candles set on what look to be brass plates attached to the wall. There are no signs of electricity.

I glance at the doors of the hallway as we walk. All the doors are closed, so I unfortunately can't see what's inside. After a while, the man - Itor - turns and says a few sentences to the woman, breaking the silence.

The woman hesitates, then turns to me in response, and says “Magna.” I assume that’s her name. I nod and repeat my initial. She turns to Itor and says something prompting a conversation between them.

Judging by their tone of voice and the fact that our walking speed has slowed slightly, I can tell that, first off, they don’t seem to be in a rush. They probably would keep silent or at least make a conscious attempt to keep the same walking speed while speaking in the case that they were in a hurry.

And - of course - this is assuming they wish to hide the information that they’re in a hurry from me. If they didn’t want to hide any information, it would be quite simple to tell. Are we running or walking? We’re walking. So we aren’t in a hurry.

But in the case that we’re in a hurry but they don’t want me to know that, they’d probably take the calculated risk of walking to our destination while secretly keeping all other hindrances out of the way. And that includes humans’ natural tendency to slow down slightly while speaking. However, like I said, they actually have slowed down while speaking. So all this suggests that they aren’t in a rush, whether they want me to know that or not.

Obviously, this is no proof, they could have simply thought as much about this as I have and realized that I’d notice if they didn’t slow down while speaking, but it still points in the direction of them not being pressed on time.

We continue down the hallway. The large main hall goes through a couple turns, but it’s not too difficult to memorize the layout. We’re still passing by dozens of doors. Some of them are marked with what seem to be words in this language. They’re completely unrecognizable.

The closest thing I can think of would be a sort of mix between Greek and Korean? The letters are generally done in one stroke, but they run over themselves, creating lots of small loops and circles splintering off of them.

Most of the words are only two or three characters, meaning the characters most likely mean entire words or syllables instead of single sounds. The letters themselves are intricately carved directly into the wooden doors, which is strange. Generally I feel like you’d use a sign or plaque for that.

Eventually we reach some stairs going upward, at the top of which is a large set of double doors with a bright light infiltrating through the cracks. Yeah, I had a feeling that this place was set underground. The all-stone interior would be really strange if it wasn’t a basement of some sort. As we climb the staircase, Magna and Itor’s grips on my arms tighten slightly. We’re probably approaching the exit. In addition, I feel like that suggests they think I’m unpredictable.

I mean, they know just by looking at my relatively skinny body that I couldn’t fight them off, and it’s not like I don’t see it either. I couldn’t get out of their grips even if I tried. So why would they tighten their grips as we approach the exit - or some other important thing - if they knew that I knew I couldn’t escape them?

I would only do that if I were handling an animal or something that I feel is going to act on instinct more often than logic. And I don’t think this is an act to try and get me to assume they think I’m running on instinct, because their grips were relatively loose beforehand, like they were trying to get me to trust them.

It would be counterintuitive to try to make me think one thing, then follow it up by trying to make me think the exact opposite. Why would they be lenient if they were just gonna be strict later on?

Of course, they technically could have planned all of this out to try and get me to go down this exact train of thought, but at this point, if I’m up against someone who knows me that well, is intelligent enough to predict me that well, and had enough time to train each and every one of the people here to be a perfect actor, I’ve already lost.

So I can safely act as if that isn’t a possibility, since, in that worst-case scenario, no matter what I do, even if I were to act perfectly, I wouldn’t be able to escape.

So in the case that they were previously lenient to try and get me to trust them, and now are being strict as we climb these stairs, what does that suggest? Well, to begin with, those two actions line up very well.

Seeing that they’re tightening their grips on me for seemingly no reason other than they think I will be illogical and attempt to escape, it makes sense that in the past, they were trying to get me to stay calm simply by being slightly less strict with their grips. They are quite literally treating me like a wounded animal. Seeing these actions, I believe that it’s relatively safe to assume that they don’t have any foreknowledge as to who I am.

They also don’t seem to put an incredible amount of thought towards controlling their instincts. I feel like it would be in their best interests to stay consistent with their attitudes - either be lenient or strict - but they aren’t doing that. Instead, they’re acting on whatever impulse they have in the moment.

Of course, I don’t have all the information, so I’m not sure what their exact motivations are, but I can’t think of a reason to consciously appear inconsistent in this aspect if not in an attempt to deceive me. So I feel like they’re not putting a huge amount of effort or planning toward this situation. That’s good to know.

We reach the top of the staircase and walk toward the end of the hallway. At the end of it is a set of double doors which seem to be larger and more reinforced than the last. I need to be quick to take in my surroundings when these doors open.

Judging by the light coming through the crack between these doors, they most likely open into outside the facility, so I can get an enormous amount of information about my geographical location, the relative technological level of my captors - because as of right now it seems to be relatively low - and I can just get a general idea of what is going on. I just need to make sure I absorb all of that information quickly in case they immediately take me away or block my vision.

They begin to open the doors. I didn’t realize just how bright it is outside; I can’t see much as my eyes adjust to the light. They bring me fully out into the world. I feel a light breeze on my naked body. Finally, I can see. I quickly scan the surrounding area. Woah. Wait. What... what the fuck?