Back in the arena, things were looking good for the youths, Greg and the tomboy were relentlessly harassing the wounded beast.
Greg, displaying surprising agility and swiftness, played the bait while the tomboy made good use of any openings to further hurt the thing. When it focused on her, Greg switched back to the offensive.
Together, they were quickly wearing down the creature, and victory was in sight.
It wasn't only on their side, either.
Even the two other groups, though they had endured a rough start and took some losses in the process, began little by little to even the field. They even gained a slight edge despite the lethality of the bloodthirsty beasts.
The spectators didn't miss the shift.
"Hey... they're not bad."
"Yeah. When I was down there, well... I wasn't that good."
"The credit must be given to the one who shouted earlier. It all began to change since then..."
"But will that suffice?"
From the initial jeering and mocking laughter, to growing interest, and finally to a grudging acknowledgement, the ones in the stands began to change their view of the captives below.
Alas, just as it seemed the youths had the upper hand, it happened.
At that moment, Gil, who was standing slightly in retreat due to his injuries, suddenly felt a cold shiver run down his spine.
The world around him seemed to slow down almost to a halt, and a suffocating, ominous feeling tightened around his heart.
He couldn't be more familiar with this feeling—the very same that always preceded disaster. It had been that way all his life, ever since that fateful day years ago, the day before fire rained from the sky.
And it had returned those many times that followed, right up until his encounter with Hector.
Cold sweat soaked his back and forehead as he fought back the shivers.
By habit, he looked around in a panic, searching for where the danger was coming from and—though he didn't want to admit it—for a way out. He stepped back reflexively, ready to dash.
Then, catching himself in the act, a bitter chuckle escaped his lips.
Running again, are we?
he thought, mocking himself.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he stayed rooted to the spot for a moment as the feeling of dread grew more urgent and oppressive.
Looking blankly ahead, memories of that day flashed through his mind—the day that feeling had warned him for the very first time.
He remembered the things he had done to make his parents leave back then.
He remembered how agitated his slumber had been the night before it happened.
The day that followed, the fire running from the sky.
The searing heat.
The cries coming from outside that day, before darkness finally claimed him.
When he had come to himself, he was entirely alone.
Gil's expression twisted, his eyes dimming briefly with pain and loss.
That time had scarred him for life; the guilt and fear haunted him to this day.
But that was then, and this was now!
"That's enough. I've had enough. I am not that kid anymore," he murmured. "At worst, isn't it just death? Compared to living that way, it's better to go out with a fist raised."
There was nothing wrong with running from danger if you could avoid it, more so if, like him, you could feel it coming before it struck. But it must not become a shackle holding you back.
Applying pressure to his wounded left arm, he felt a sharp spike of pain shoot through him, but the agony brought the clarity he needed.
The sphere around him began to glimmer brighter and brighter, and his eyes followed suit, burning with the same luster as when he had faced Hector.
Opening his eyes wide, he let his senses run wild, taking in as much information as he could from the outside world.
First, he had to find where the danger would come from. For that, he threw his awareness open as far as it would go.
The voices? He stopped ignoring them and actively listened.
He breathed deeply, taking in the scents lingering in the air, tasting them.
His legs, firmly fixed to the ground, felt each tremor running through the floor, and through his shield, he could even feel the churning of the bloody sea.
Feel it, feel it, feel it... Where will it come from?
From the ones with me in the arena?
The cloaked figures in the stands?
Hector?
The jailers?
That man from earlier?
Who, damn it?!
Though he could indeed feel more now, the feedback was a tangled, messy mix that he couldn't make much sense of, and the clock was ticking.
As his anxiety continued to spike higher and higher...
Hummmmmmm.
The sphere—his aegis since the beginning of this ordeal—began to hum as if reacting to his mental state. As it did, Gil looked dazed, but his eyes grew even brighter.
The humming grew in strength until it produced a soundless, invisible shockwave that erupted from Gil, covering the entire arena and leaving nowhere and no one untouched.
It passed through everything and everyone faster than a blink.
In that instant, it was as if Gil had gained a new sense—one that gave him an all-encompassing awareness .
Using it, he could feel the gazes, the emotions, the states of the people, and so much more.
He discovered the eyes looking at him from within the blood sea. He was startled, since he hadn't been aware of them until now, but since the presence wasn't hostile, he simply took note of it and continued his search.
He noted the disappearance of Greg's snake.
He saw the growth of the tomboy's flames as she struck the beast.
He perceived the increasingly smooth operation of the gears and symbols of the scholar's intent.
He even saw dark clouds and skulls around some of the captives, shifting between lighter and heavier shades depending on the situation they were in...
He even managed to peek at something behind the intent-less woman, but now was not the time.
He scoured the arena, the blood sea, and finally the stands, layer by layer, squinting at the various people and their intents.
He cast aside everything else he picked up, focusing entirely on finding the source of the tribulation to come.
As he conducted his scan, no one felt a thing aside from Gil himself as the source of the phenomenon.
The feeling came quickly and went just as fast, and though his shield looked much dimmer now, Gil couldn't spare any thought as to the why or how of this new development.
Because after the sweeping of that wave, and without being able to explain how, he finally knew where the danger would come from.
In a brief instant, he seemed to perceive a string.
One thread.
Then another.
Then dozens.of dark red string stretched out, splitting into lesser threads that reached into the stands, tying themselves tightly around the necks of those cloaked people.
They all converged toward the same man.
Lucius.
That discovery shook him and made even more on his guard.
Though the string looked thin, Gil couldn't help but feel a deep, instinctive sense of disgust and dread toward it, just as he had felt about the man himself.
And those strings were also tied around the beasts in the arena.
Gil's expression grew grimmer.
He didn't know why, but he knew nothing good would come from those strings. He wanted to see more, but time was not on his side.
Gritting his teeth, he knew he had to act fast. Racking his brain, an idea came to him.
Moving forward, he positioned himself just behind Greg and whispered quickly, "Greg, what happened when I was out? How do we end the test?"
Surprised by the sudden voice, Greg slipped, getting his shorts torn and taking a light injury in the process. Fortunately, the wound was minor.
The tomboy quickly stepped in, drawing the beast's attention.
Grimacing, Greg responded as fast as he could, never taking his eyes off the creature.
"They said a bunch of things, but in brief, either we kill one of those things, or..." He paused, seemingly hesitant to speak.
"What?" urgency pierced Gil's voice.
"...Or we survive until only a quarter of us are left breathing," his partner said somberly, before stepping back into the fight, leaving Gil with his thoughts.
"He... hehehe. Hehehe, hehehe."
Upon hearing this news, Gil was first stunned, and then he let out a bitter, helpless laugh that grew colder and colder.
That explains... a lot,
Gil thought, looking at the blood sea, and then at the general situation in the arena, which was clearly going much better.
The others, too, were quickly managing to seriously hurt the creatures.
With the trend going now, it's just a question of time before we manage to take down these things, Gil tried to reassure himself.
But why, then, was that feeling of dread growing worse?
No, something was wrong.
But what?
Then, a sudden realization struck him, its implications filling him with a much deeper terror and suspicions.
Those shadows—the past victims who had warned him—how had they died? They knew the beasts' weaknesses.
So... how did they die?