As Gil lay there, bleeding out, he realized something strange.
He wasn't nearly as afraid as he thought he would be in these circumstances.
Like someone once said: it's when one looks straight into the eyes of death that they fix their gaze upon their true selves.
Some broke down and despaired.
Others accepted their end calmly with resignation.
Then there were those who, even at death's door, refused to give up—at least, not without taking a bite out of death first.
As for Gil, he didn't fit neatly into any of those categories.
He indeed had despaired earlier, though briefly, and then had resigned himself to suffering the same end as Librom. But finally, with a mad glint in his eyes, he decided to leave the beast with a last memento of him.
As if answering his resolve, his shield started to change colors at a quicker pace, even drawing in the red sea under him as it started to deform and change shape.
Even his eyes—his sharp amber eyes—began to gain an eerie red hue. These changes happened silently, and no one remarked upon them, not even Hector or Gil himself.
But he had forgotten that in this arena, against that beast... he wasn't alone.
A silhouette flashed in the corner of his vision.
Thump.
Whimper.
With a muffled sound, someone delivered a vicious kick into the flank of the hideous thing, sending it reeling and whimpering.
The beast buckled, retreating several steps away from them.
Gil looked at Greg, who had come to the rescue, in surprise.
Greg turned to him, flashing his usual friendly, though strained smile, and said with delight, "Gil, it really works! It worked!"
Gil looked at Greg, seemingly confused by his intervention. Though the other party's actions since earlier contrasted greatly with his previously shown nervousness and vulnerability, Gil didn't know what to make of it but...
Snapping out of his mixed feelings, Gil grumbled, "Don't stand foolishly there! It's not over yet."
Inwardly, though, he added: Thank you.
Still unnoticed by him, his sphere shone brighter, expelling much of the red staining it.
Then...
Clang.
The chains linking them flashed briefly and coiled tighter around their wrists.
But he was right.
Just that would not suffice to fell those beasts, and if not handled well, it could even backfire on them.
There was a stark difference between how a predator treats a prey that can hurt it, and one that cannot.
Thankfully, someone else had already acted.
The tomboy whizzed past Greg and was upon the beast before it could recompose itself. She stabbed her nails straight into its eyes!
Pop.
"Khieeeeeee!"
A long howl filled with pain rang out.
She managed to blind one of its eyes, but the beast managed to save the other by jerking its head to the side.
Now hurt and half-blind, the situation shifted in the Gil trio's favor.
While Gil's group fought for survival, the effects of his discovery were already spreading throughout the arena.
Back to a few moments earlier...
"TARGET THE EYES AND THE FLANKS OF THOSE THINGS!"
Gil's bellow echoed through the arena, cutting momentarily through the mayhem and noises both inside the arena floor and up in the stands.
Between Gil's first shout revealing the beasts' weakness and his group's following actions, not much time had passed, but the impact was tremendous.
The reactions from both sides to his words varied greatly.
Then, seeing it actually done in front of them, another commotion rose again.
For the captives in the arena, his words were nothing less than a life-saving straw. In the short span of time that had elapsed since their entry into the arena, the beasts had been like wolves amidst a bunch of sheep.
They tore through any resistance the youths tried to mount, and the count of dead and injured was rapidly piling up.
So hearing Gil's words, nobody cared about how he had found the creatures' weakness, nor did anyone doubt him.
What a joke—at this point, what reason did he have to trick them?
Let alone after seeing him and his companions inflicting such damage on their tormentors.
His words and actions gave them hope. Even those despairing straightened up with a manic glint in their eyes, and those sobbing and breaking down earlier unexpectedly found the strength to stand up and fight back.
If there was hope, who would be willing to sit and wait for death?
The two de facto leaders quickly made good use of this occasion.
"Quick! Form groups of three! One engage a beast, the others give him your top clothes so he can protect himself and attract the beast's attention! The rest, watch out for an occasion to strike them from their flanks!"
The scholar, seemingly eager to prove himself after losing several of those on his side, fired order after order from behind his group.
Though diminished, bedraggled, and having much less faith in their leader, those of his group still listened to him after exchanging weary glances.
Scrambling up, they tried to replicate what Gil's group had done, but without much success. The ones chosen to attract the beasts' attention lacked the ruthlessness and daring to use their limbs to trap them like Gil had done.
Well, one couldn't reproach them for flinching at such a strategy.
Gil himself, if he hadn't been mentally prepared and hadn't inherited Librom's memories, even with his inherent recklessness... it was unclear if he would have dared do what he did.
Seeing that his people were too afraid to carry out his orders, the scholar cursed under his breath but remained helpless.
He knew better than to push them or say anything untoward now; his hold on them was already shaky. If not handled correctly, he would be left alone to fend for himself, and that... he truly didn't dare to face.
Frustrated, he glanced at the other side, hoping to derive some solace from the woes of the other group.
But he was soon disappointed; the other side was doing much better than his own.
In fact, aside from the fact that Gil's group hadn't lost anyone, they were executing their defense much better in every way.
Aside from the initial losses and some injuries from time to time, that group was doing great—well, as great as they could in their circumstances.
Compared to his group, it was night and day.
H-how?
Stunned speechless, he soon got his answer by looking at them more closely.
The other side, with that young woman at their helm, had decided against dividing and had instead chosen to stay back-to-back, forming a defensive circle.
Using their shoes or anything they could get their hands on, they targeted the beasts, paying particular attention to their eyes. Once a beast became agitated and lunged at someone, those targeted quickly fell back inward, toward the center of the circle.
Once the beast was drawn inside, the others quickly opted for quick hit-and-run tactics on its flanks, hurting it and distracting it from its initial prey.
Though it wasn't seamless, and the beasts did manage to cause heavy damage to the enemy, they were still holding on staunchly.
No wonder he was so surprised; being able to come up with something like that so quickly...
He looked on silently at the young woman adeptly commanding her people, even personally going at it from time to time.
What surprised him even more was that her people didn't seem to know fear, executing her orders to the best of their abilities.
Is the gap really that big? he wondered.
Pushing his mixed feelings aside, he quickly commanded the people on his side to copy the other group, even gritting his teeth to go forward and help, no longer commanding from behind.
As for being embarrassed—well, one had to be alive first to feel it.
On the side of the spectators in the stands, opinions were divided.
"Huh? how?"
"No way, no way! How did that guy find out?"
"Interesting. Well, that's better, I was beginning to get bored."
Those in the lower layers and those higher alike were surprised by this sudden upset, but they didn't think too deeply on it, simply growing more interested in the "show."
At the highest layer, in the lounge,
Hector was looking on with a grin stretching from ear to ear. Darius, too, looked more closely, finally much more interested, and then asked Hector:
"Say, Hector, do you think that kid let himself get bitten on purpose?"
"Hum, that's what I think too. I have to say... he's got guts if he really did."
But then, a discordant voice rose from the man seated in the foremost place.
"Impressive indeed. It's almost as if he knew earlier about it. Don't you think so, Hector?"
The same man from before spoke again., phrasing it like a question, but the accusatory tone in his voice was unmistakable.
The originally relaxed atmosphere in the lounge grew heavy.
The other two didn't dare to meddle or mediate.
Even Darius had had enough of the other party and didn't try to diffuse the situation anymore.
Fool. Do you think Hector is like the leader and would tolerate your behavior? Ha!
And indeed, Hector took his gaze away from Gil and settled it on the man, saying slowly,
"What do you want to say, Lucius?"
"Nothing much. I just couldn't help but find your favorite's behavior since the beginning a bit... strange. After all, it should be his first time seeing them, no? So his performances up till there..."
Lucius responded lightly, without backing down but without saying anything outright either.
Hector looked at him a moment, shook his head, then said, his tone growing cold: "Firstly, Lucius, just because you can't do something doesn't mean that others can't. And secondly..."
A tremendous pressure burst from him, weighing heavily on the other party.
Lucius's expression shifted and he tried to fight back.
An eerie red-black glow appeared around him, but it was suppressed just as quickly.
No matter how he tried, it just wasn't enough.
Hector continued looking at him, his gaze cold and indifferent.
The pressure he applied mounted until Lucius's seat broke and he fell.
The other two looked like they wanted to help, but they didn't dare to act.
Hector continued, "Just in case you forgot. I joined you people because some of our goals align. Nothing more, nothing less."
A pause.
"So if you think that I will accommodate your whims like Graham does just because you are in charge of the branding... I highly advise you to think again."
Without another word, Hector went back to looking at Gil in the arena.
As for Lucius, he was breathing heavily, his eyes red, his jaw set, and his fists clenched until they drew blood.
Though Hector had already withdrawn his pressure, the bruises to his ego remained.
He looked ready to burst but quickly calmed down. A flash of malice flew through his eyes, but he suppressed it, knowing he wasn't Hector's match.
But looking into the arena, a faint, cold smile arched his lips.
He had other means...