Lucius Vance strode into the cell, flanked by his goons, their boots echoing against damp stone in a rhythmic percussion of menace. His presence smothered the space like a thick fog rolling off a midnight sea—suffocating, inescapable. The torchlight from the corridor carved harsh shadows across his angular face, making his features appear almost skeletal. The air itself seemed to recoil, growing heavier with the metallic tang of old blood and rust that clung to these depths.
"Well, well, look at who we have here," he sneered, his eyes flickering with amusement like embers catching wind. The orange glow reflected in his pupils, twin points of malicious delight.
"Nova—the perfect warrior of the Karian Kingdom. From the palace to the depths of the dark pit." He paused, letting his gaze sweep over her disheveled form with theatrical appreciation. "I must say, I truly admire your journey."
His smirk widened, revealing teeth that gleamed too white in the dim light. "And, of course, the future Cipher herself." He gestured toward her with a languid wave, rings glinting on his fingers. "Look at what she has brought you, Nova—misery."
His laugh erupted—a sound that ricocheted off the stone walls, far too amused for the situation, far too genuine in its cruelty. It had the quality of breaking glass, sharp and discordant. "I do hope that next time, you choose your company wisely. But sadly—" His voice dropped into mock sympathy, smooth as poisoned honey, each word dripping with false concern. "There won't be a next time for you to reconsider your missteps."
Nova's jaw tightened, muscles jumping beneath her skin. Her hands, bound at her sides, curled into fists so tight her knuckles went bone-white. But she remained silent, her breathing controlled despite the rage simmering beneath the surface.
Lucius tilted his head slightly, studying her reaction the way a scientist might observe a specimen pinned beneath glass. The movement was predatory, calculated. "I've always known of your distaste for me. The whispers, the stolen glances when I enter a room. The subtle shifts in posture."
He took a step closer, his boots scraping against the gritty floor. The smell of expensive cologne—something with notes of cedar and smoke—wafted forward, incongruous in this place of decay. "You hide it well, but not well enough."
He chuckled darkly, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. "You are so venomous—like a cobra waiting to strike. But soon, I'll see you stand in the arena… with your dear friends." His eyes gleamed with cruelty, catching the torchlight and holding it like captured stars. "And you won't face multiple opponents."
A pause—deliberate, theatrical. The silence stretched taut as a bowstring.
"Just one. The three of you, against something far worse."
Cipher felt his gaze shift onto her, slow and deliberate as a blade drawn from its sheath. The weight of his attention was almost physical, pressing against her skin like humidity before a storm. She could feel Nova tense beside her, could hear the barely audible hitch in her companion's breathing.
"Madam Mystery," he murmured, savoring the words as though they were fine wine rolling across his tongue. He moved closer to the bars, wrapping one hand around the cold iron. His fingers were long, elegant—the hands of someone who'd never done manual labor, who commanded others to do violence on his behalf. "If you truly come from future Earth, then you've arrived at the wrong place. Here, the only thing that awaits you is death—from every direction."
His voice softened slightly, almost contemplative, taking on an intimate quality that somehow made it more unsettling. "For some reason, I find myself drawn to you."
The admission hung in the stale air between them, unexpected and dangerous. "So… why don't you join me? You and I could rule this entire kingdom. I could forge you into anything you desire. Power beyond your wildest dreams."
He paused, letting his words sink in like stones dropped into still water, watching the ripples of reaction across her face. The torch behind him guttered, sending shadows dancing across the cell walls in frantic, jerking movements. "What do you think of my proposal?"
Cipher met his gaze, unwavering. Her eyes—dark and steady—reflected nothing back to him. "I really don't think I can trust you to keep your word."
Lucius sighed, the sound carrying genuine disappointment. He shook his head slowly, almost sadly, like a teacher confronted with a promising student's failure. "Think carefully before refusing. My offer comes once. Next comes chaos."
He leaned closer to the bars, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper—forcing them to strain to hear. "You're not bad, Cipher. You only lack direction. With proper guidance, I could mold you into the perfect vessel."
The word "vessel" seemed to linger in the air, oily and wrong.
Cipher smiled faintly, unshaken. The expression didn't reach her eyes. "I'm sorry to disappoint you. But I know why I'm here. Your offer can't change my mind."
Lucius stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable in the shifting torchlight. Then he let out a small, amused chuckle—softer this time, almost genuine. "Alright then." He released the bar, his hand falling away with a metallic whisper. "Enjoy your solitude—and don't forget to say your last prayers."
He turned sharply on his heel, his cloak swirling around him in a dramatic arc of deep crimson fabric. His goons followed in lockstep, their heavy footfalls receding down the corridor. The sound of their departure echoed and re-echoed, growing fainter until finally swallowed by the oppressive silence of the pit.
The torch they'd brought flickered once, twice, then steadied—casting the cell back into its familiar gloom.
Nova exhaled sharply, the breath exploding from her lungs as though she'd been holding it underwater. She shook her head, sending strands of sweat-dampened hair across her face. "I always knew he was the devil incarnate," she muttered, her voice rough with suppressed emotion. "He's been plotting this in the background all along."
Her fists clenched again, the chains connecting her wrists rattling softly. "I swear, I'd love to cut off his head." The words came out with such venom that Cipher could almost see the fantasy playing out behind Nova's eyes—the arc of a blade, the spray of blood, the satisfying thud of a body hitting stone.
Cipher watched her carefully, calculating. Her mind was already moving past rage, past fear, into the cold clarity of strategy. Then, her voice dropped into something quieter, more measured—the tone of someone planning rather than reacting. "Nova, how many people would you estimate are here?"
Nova forced herself to calm down, her breathing slowing deliberately. She closed her eyes for a moment, considering the question with the precision of a trained warrior assessing battlefield conditions. "Approximately five hundred. That's just from the arena." She opened her eyes again, meeting Cipher's gaze. "Guards, handlers, spectators—it's a small army."
Cipher nodded slowly, processing the information. "Do you know where Ren and Asher are held?"
Nova frowned, her brow furrowing. "No. Absolutely no idea." Frustration bled into her voice. "They could be anywhere in this labyrinth. Different levels, different wings—they might not even be in the same section."
"You got any plans?" she asked, turning to face Cipher fully. The chains clinked softly with the movement.
Cipher hesitated, her gaze drifting to the rough stone wall opposite them. Water had seeped through somewhere above, leaving dark stains that looked like old bloodstains in the dim light. "Not really. Just thinking."
Nova folded her arms as much as her restraints allowed, exhaling through her nose—a sound of resignation mixed with determination. "Running away seems impossible if we don't know where those two are."
"Which means," Cipher added, her voice taking on the quality of someone working through a puzzle aloud, "the only probable place to make an escape is when we're all together."
Nova's face darkened in realization, the implications settling over her like a shroud. "And the only place we're guaranteed to meet is the arena."
Cipher nodded once, sharp and definitive.
Nova let out a hollow laugh, the sound bouncing off the walls and coming back distorted, mocking. "That's the worst possible place to make an escape." The irony wasn't lost on either of them—their only opportunity would come in the most public, most heavily guarded, most dangerous location imaginable.
They both fell into silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The only sounds were the distant drip of water somewhere in the darkness, the occasional scurry of rats in the walls, and the low, almost subsonic hum of the pit itself—as though the structure were alive and breathing around them.
Cipher sat still, her back against the cold stone wall, staring at the cell's far corner where shadows pooled thick and impenetrable. Lost in thought, she barely noticed the passage of time until Zane's voice suddenly broke through, weaving into her consciousness like a thread of light through darkness.
'You know, there is nothing impossible if you believe in yourself.'
Cipher exhaled, shaking her head slightly. A bitter smile touched her lips. "I've heard those words more times than I could count, yet that's the hardest thing a person can do."
Zane went quiet—probably reflecting on her words, processing them through whatever passed for contemplation in his digital existence.
Cipher continued, letting her thoughts unravel like thread from a spool. "It seems like we humans are drawn to doubts. First, we doubt ourselves. Then, we extend that doubt to others, convincing ourselves that trust is fragile. That belief is uncertain." Her voice was soft, almost meditative, as though she were speaking to herself as much as to him. "We build entire philosophies around our inability to have faith—in ourselves, in each other, in anything beyond what we can see and touch and prove."
A pause. Then—a shift.
Something changed in her posture. Her spine straightened slightly, her shoulders pulling back. The defeated slump was gone, replaced by something harder, more focused. Cipher's eyes, which had been distant and unfocused, suddenly sharpened.
"You know what I'm thinking?" she murmured, her voice taking on an edge of steel wrapped in velvet. "Tonight… let's do the impossible. The unexpected."
She turned her head slightly, as though looking at something only she could see. "I don't know what that means yet, but I can feel it. You and I—we need to change the tides. For Nova. For Ren. For Asher."
Something in her voice carried weight—determination deeper than mere words, resonating with a conviction that seemed to alter the very air around her. It was the voice of someone who had made a decision, who had crossed some internal threshold and would not be turning back.
Zane responded, his tone thoughtful, almost reverent. 'That is the very definition of faith. I like the sound of it. We just need to listen—to the inner being who knows all things. Then, we'll know what to do… and when to do it.'
Cipher smiled faintly, and this time the expression was genuine, reaching her eyes and softening the hard lines of her face. "That's actually helpful. I already feel rejuvenated."
She glanced at Nova beside her, who had been listening in silence, her expression unreadable. "Even though I'm trapped in this cell, I feel free. Completely free."
The words hung in the air, paradoxical and true. Nova stared at her for a long moment, then slowly nodded, as though recognizing something in Cipher that she hadn't seen before—or perhaps recognizing something she'd lost in herself and was now remembering.
---
Meanwhile, on future Earth—Cynthia's home planet—the night had settled into that peculiar stillness that comes in the hours after midnight but before dawn. Jane and Lillian sat in Lillian's apartment, glued to the massive screen that dominated one wall, their nightly ritual now solidified into something approaching obsession.
Ever since they discovered Cynthia had been trapped inside the game, their evenings had revolved around watching its terrifying progress. The game's feed was public—part of its twisted appeal—allowing viewers across multiple worlds to watch the drama unfold in real-time. Tonight, Jane had come to Lillian's place, spending the night there, neither of them able to bear watching alone.
The apartment was dark except for the screen's glow, which painted their faces in shifting blues and grays. Empty coffee cups littered the table between them, alongside the remains of a meal neither had really tasted. The air smelled of stale caffeine and the faint ozone scent of electronics running too long.
Jane leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, brows furrowing with worry. The light from the screen caught the moisture gathering in her eyes. "Do you think Asher, Ren, and Nova will survive the Ghost Beast?" Her voice was laced with worry, tight with the kind of helpless anxiety that comes from watching someone you care about walk toward danger while you can do nothing but observe. "According to Lord Vutagon Mondanza, I don't think Cipher will be among them."