The fog of the Nightmare Dimension does not drift; it breathes. It tastes of copper and old secrets, and it clings to the skin like a wet shroud. I am the Bait. That is the only name the System allows me to remember.

For months, I believed I was a pioneer. I believed that my broadcasts—the vivid descriptions of the obsidian spires and the singing rivers of this strange land—were bringing hope to a world of bored viewers. I loved the "donations," the surge of power that flowed into my veins every time a viewer liked my courage.

"Look at this!" I would shout into the void, pointing to a flower that bloomed with human eyes. "Is this not the most exquisite horror you have ever seen?"

I felt like a god. I was the bridge between the mundane and the marvelous. I spent my days exploring the depths of the abyss, convinced that I was the protagonist of a grand adventure.

But the System is a cruel mirror.

It happened during the Lunar Eclipse of the Third Circle. I found a fragment of a broken mirror in the dust, and for a second, the broadcast lagged. In that flicker, I didn't see myself. I saw a small, shivering creature, stripped of skin and dignity, suspended by silver wires in a void of absolute black.

I wasn't the explorer. I was the lure.

The "viewers" were not humans from a distant world. They were the Great Old Ones, the starving entities of the Outer Dark. They didn't care about the scenery; they cared about the *flavor* of my hope. The "donations" were not rewards; they were seasonings, designed to make my soul more succulent, to ripen my terror until it reached a peak of exquisite sweetness.

The more I explored, the more I "leveled up," the more delicious I became.

Now, I can feel them. The gaze of a thousand unseen eyes is no longer a source of pride, but a crushing weight. I can hear their hunger, a low, vibrating hum that shakes the very foundations of my mind.

I tried to stop the broadcast, but the camera is fused to my soul. I tried to run, but the landscape shifts to keep me centered in the frame.

The broadcast is reaching its finale. The "likes" are at an all-time high. The viewers are leaning in, their mouths open, waiting for the moment the Bait finally realizes it is about to be eaten.

I look into the camera and smile, though my eyes are screaming.

"Welcome to the end," I whisper. "I hope you enjoy the taste."

*** Objective Tensor Code: [M1:10, M7:9, N2:0.9, K2:0.9, TI:92.0, theta:270°] OTMES_v2: {S: "Horror", P: "Betrayal", V: "Soul", R: "0.0"}