No one moved.
The bridge, now tinged with a sickly green, swayed gently in the sea breeze, as if it were still breathing the spilled blood.
The silence was heavy, almost suffocating, as everyone realized that to cross, they would undoubtedly have to pay the same price.
And this monstrous thought slowly crept into their minds, eroding what remained of their humanity.
A footstep echoed. Then another.
A tall man with a glassy stare and tight lips slowly advanced toward the two children.
His breathing was ragged, his eyes bloodshot, fear, hunger, fatigue... everything seemed to have mingled within him, leaving only madness in its place.
Koan, who had stayed back a little, felt her legs stiffen.
She immediately understood what he was going to do.
Her heart was beating so hard that for a moment she thought it would burst.
She wanted to scream, to run, to stop him, but her throat remained closed, as if strangled by anxiety.
She knew. She knew that in the face of the madness of a being willing to kill to survive, her voice would be nothing more than a whisper drowned out by the din of despair.
The two children, huddled together, looked up with trembling eyes at the man approaching.
Their hands clasped together, their breathing quickened.
And suddenly...
A figure stepped between them.
Reo.
His cold gaze pierced the man's, without the slightest hesitation.
The air seemed to vibrate between them, tense to the extreme, like the string of a bow ready to snap.
"You're making a mistake," Reo said in a low, perfectly controlled voice.
The man growled, trying to get around him, but Reo stood still, a wall of composure in the face of panic.
"They're just children," the man replied in a harsh, almost mechanical voice.
His eyes, once human, now seemed hollowed out by fear and hunger. He took a step forward, his shadow stretching across the wobbly wooden bridge.
"Their parents died during the first puzzle. Do you really think they can survive on their own? They might as well... they might as well be useful before they die."
An agonizing silence followed his words.
Some looked away, others stared at the scene, unable to believe what they were hearing.
The children, huddled together, trembled with fear.
Reo remained motionless. His icy gaze rested on the man, without anger, without compassion either.
"And you think that excuses your actions?" he asked in an almost monotone voice, as if simply stating a fact.
The man gave a nervous, tense smile.
"Excuse? No. But at least they'll be of some use. Unless you plan to take them in yourself?"
Reo paused for a moment.
His face remained impassive, his tone almost disturbingly cold.
"I'm not here to stop you. Nor to help them. "
He tilted his head slightly, as if gauging the madness consuming the other man.
"But if you want my opinion... those two children may not be enough to satisfy the Cetus."
The man stared at him, confused, trying to understand whether this was a provocation or a sincere warning.
The wind whistled between them, carrying with it the smell of salt and fear.
Reo finally looked away, as if detached from the scene, and concluded in a low voice:
"If you want to play with death, go ahead. But at least make sure you don't lose before you even understand the rules." "
In his empty gaze, there was neither hope nor pity, only the icy lucidity of someone who had long understood that in this game, humanity was nothing but a burden.
Panic gradually spread across every face like a sudden fever.
The air on the deck seemed to grow heavier, not only because of the salt and wind, but because their eyes were lost, indecisive, searching for a flaw in the morality they still clung to for reassurance. Some tried to hold on to principles, but fear gnawed at these structures like the sea gnawed at wood.
The man, his jaw clenched, his voice broken with anguish, let out a cry of anger:
"So what? What the hell do we do? Do we just watch each other die?"
His words fell like a stone into water. Several froze; others, more weary, lowered their heads. The temptation was no longer a distant idea: it was tangible, close, a sinister option looming before them.
All around, guilty whispers began: "Maybe we should...", "We have no choice..." Hands clenched around bags, faces hardened as if preparing for an impossible act. The cohesion of the group was cracking, replaced by the relentless logic of every man for himself that sweated from every pore.
A woman, her face marked by fear and fatigue, turned abruptly to Masaki, as if the weight of the decision could only fall on the one they had designated as leader. Her voice trembled, but she sought to convey urgency:
"Masaki! We don't have time. Fifteen minutes have already passed. If we don't find a solution now, we'll lose. Don't play dumb, you know as well as we do that we have to act. "
The words struck Masaki with the force of a blow. He felt all eyes on him, demanding, sometimes pleading. The responsibility burned on his shoulders; every second that passed became a silent accusation. He had led men to victory once before, and now he was being asked to choose between ethics and survival.
Violent, mechanical scenarios jostled in his mind: a sacrifice, a larger offering, a combination they hadn't yet tried. His mouth remained dry. He searched for a sensible answer, a solution that would not debase the men. But time, relentless, counted down in red numbers in his head. Fifteen minutes. Twelve.
He tried to keep his composure, but a cold, relentless thought crossed his mind, as if logic, which had been in control until then, was taking precedence over humanity: perhaps he had to resolve to sacrifice a life. Perhaps that was the only way to keep the bridge intact and allow the children to reach the other side.
Masaki looked at the two young children, still holding hands, and felt a familiar tingling sensation rise in his throat. He knew the weight of the decisions he was making; he knew that once pronounced, a barbaric solution could not be taken back. Guilt pressed around his heart like an icy hand.
In the distance, Koan watched the scene, powerless. She knew all too well the slope down which humanity could slide: fear made men cruel, necessity served as their excuse. She feared what was to come, unable to intervene, for collective madness fed faster than individual objections.
Around Masaki, faces began to split—some refused to consider the irreparable, others were already looking for ways to make the act acceptable. Time continued to pass, and the pressure increased, compressing souls in a painful vice.
Masaki, cornered, felt his resolve wavering. In a whisper, he told himself that perhaps he had to resign himself to what he had abhorred until then: sacrificing one human life to save the rest. His fingers clenched on his clothes. The choice was no longer just logical; it was a tear that threatened to destroy him.
The crowd held its breath as if the air had frozen around them. The voices, which had been discordant until then, faded under the weight of the impending horror. It was then that Reo broke the silence, his voice falling like a flame in the darkness, clear and sharp.
"No," he said simply, then let out a breath that seemed to carry away some of the surrounding despair. "It's not possible that the riddle is pushing us to kill each other. There must be another way."
His words lit a spark in the eyes of the weakest; some raised their heads, seeking anchor in his calmness. But Masaki, exhausted and haunted by the passing minutes, replied in a brutal and pragmatic tone:
"We already know the two conditions. The number. We've verified that two to three people are enough, and the other... is food. The bridge only holds if the Cetus is fed a substantial offering. And the only thing that has proven to be truly substantial for him... is human flesh."
The silence that followed these words was heavier than any scream. Lips tightened, eyes lowered. The children pressed their hands together, as if to protect themselves from a world that had suddenly become monstrous.
For Reo, these words were not a condemnation.
They had the effect of a light bulb going off in his mind. His eyes widened, then a flash of understanding crossed his face.
"Wait..." he whispered. "I never checked, because it seemed obvious... but now, that could be the key." "
Masaki, taken aback, frowned.
"What are you talking about?"
Reo approached the blue window where the riddle still floated, his trembling fingers following each line.
And there, everything was confirmed.
[Puzzle n°2: The Bridge of Oeneus
Explanation: After escaping the toxic zone, you find yourself in a safe area. However, to continue on your way, you must cross this magical bridge that replaces the Kiyosu Bridge. Cross it without breaking it under the effect of the water monster, the Cetus.
Cetus will break the bridge if and only if the following two conditions are not met:
- (1 ≤ x ≤ 4)
- Cetus is not fed a substantial amount of edible food.
Time: 30 minutes
Rules: - You can only cross the bridge if both conditions are met.
- If the bridge breaks, it will be repaired the next time you cross it.
- Bridge color code: blue (no analysis in progress), green (conditions met), red (conditions not met)
- You can anticipate the bridge breaking based on its color while the conditions are being analyzed (tending towards green or red).
Mystery solver: 20,490 coins earned.
Failure: Nothing.]
"Look," he said confidently. "Logically, exceeding the time limit should be one of the conditions that causes the bridge to collapse. But... it's not there."
There was a silence.
"What does that mean in practical terms?" asked Masaki.
Reo took a deep breath.
"It means that after thirty minutes, the bridge won't break on its own. But it will be impossible to cross."
One of the group members, at the end of his tether, blurted out:
"But that's the same thing! "
"No," Reo replied calmly. "Normally, it should collapse at the end of the countdown. But now, it will remain intact... as if the puzzle continues. In reality, we won't be able to move forward because we're missing something."
He paused, his gaze hardening.
"An object, most likely."
No sooner had he uttered these words than a light came on in the blue window.
A new clue had just appeared.
[The Clue: ~The offering.
Explanation: The Cetus waits, but its appetite grows. The more time passes, the less the necessary offerings will be available.]