Klong, klong, klong, klong, klong, klong.
Besides the sound of shifting gears, only the heavy breathing of the captives resounded in the arena.
Even the jeering and whispers of the spectators had grown quiet at some unknown point, their gaze fixed on the scene below in silence.
Slowly, the openings on the walls grew larger and larger still.
Without being told, the captives knew that something was about to come out of them—and that something meant nothing good for them.
Though nothing had happened yet, the slow grinding of the gears and the darkness behind those openings spread a deep fear through the hearts of the youths in the arena.
Those in groups huddled even more tightly together. Even the few solitary ones didn't dare to stray too far from the majority.
They shifted uneasily, slowly creeping backward to get as far as possible from the openings, yet they didn't dare to get too close to any of the other walls either.
Who knew what could spring from them?
Further ahead, between the group and those dark openings, stood two of their companions in misfortune.
Gil and Greg.
Due to Gil's earlier actions, they found themselves separated from the main crowd. Greg, his face white as a sheet and trembling from head to toe, took several steps backward, looking to regroup with the others.
Kriiiiiip.
But a slight sound made him stop in his tracks midway.
It was coming from behind him.
Looking back, he was stunned to see that Gil hadn't moved at all.
Instead, the young man had removed his shirt, torn off a section of it, and wound the shorter part around his right fist while wrapping the larger piece around his entire left arm, creating a makeshift guard.
This sight caught Greg off guard, leaving him dazed for a brief moment before he exclaimed
, "Gil! What are you doing? Let's go!"
Not pausing his actions and without looking back, Gil responded, his voice perfectly calm,
"Go? Where to?"
At a loss for words for a moment, Greg stammered,
"To the others, of course!"
Seemingly satisfied with his preparations, Gil finally looked back—first at the group further behind, and then at Greg.
Looking squarely into Greg's eyes, his gaze serene and his voice steady, he asked seriously,
"Look at them well, Greg... do you find them reliable?"
As if doused in cold water by those words, Greg whipped his head toward the group, forcing himself to truly observe the people he had been heading toward.
And the more he saw, the uglier his expression became.
Before the Test had even begun, those people—the ones who should have been forming a united front—were already divided and fighting among themselves.
More accurately, the beautiful girl's group and the blonde intellectual's group were arguing about who should form the front line of defense and who should stay in the back.
The scholar argued loudly, "Look, all I am saying is that since your group has many strong people, it only makes sense that this task should naturally be yours to bear. We will provide support from the rear."
The girl, despite her appearance, wasn't one to be outdone by mere words.
She snapped back, "Provide support? How? You have no right to make decisions concerning our lives like that! Your group isn't without strong fighters either—you're just looking for meat shields, you coward!"
His face flushing red from anger or embarrassment, the scholar tried to defend his point,
"That's not true! I am just thinking about how to maximize our resources to help us all survive..."
But everything he said sounded like a cheap excuse to the crowd and fell on deaf ears.
Nobody here wanted to lay down their life for strangers.
Meanwhile, the red-haired giant who had been napping earlier was now standing tall, staring sternly toward the openings. He squinted his eyes, murmuring words that Greg couldn't quite catch.
The guy with bangs covering his eyes had stopped humming. He was tapping the ground with his foot, occasionally opening his mouth as if to say something, but each time he just closed it with a sigh and distanced himself further from the others.
The Asian tomboy stepped forward and stopped not far from Gil. She scrutinized him for a moment, then copied his approach, tearing off a part of her own clothes to make bandages to protect her hands, seemingly unconcerned by the patch of skin she ended up exposing.
Taking all of this in, Greg didn't know what to say or do.
Indeed, those people didn't look reliable at all.
Do they truly understand the situation they are in? Greg couldn't help but wonder.
In contrast, Gil's unruffled demeanor inspired much more confidence. Since they had already formed an alliance, Greg hesitated only briefly before gritting his teeth and stepping back to stand behind Gil, who was staring fixedly at the opening ahead.
The moment he did, the golden chain between them tightened slightly.
The gates were almost completely open by now. Feeling his heartbeat accelerate anew and his courage waver, Greg looked at the seemingly unaffected Gil and couldn't help but ask, "How come you are so calm?"
Gil glanced at him from the corner of his eye, pondered for a moment, and then laughed lightly. "I'm scared too. I just don't see the point of running.."
Puzzled, Greg wanted to ask more, but a sudden noise cut him off.
Klaaaang!
The openings were fully open.
All arguing and noise ceased at once. The mounting tension vanished into a dead silence as everyone stared at the darkness in fear.
Then, from the shadows, a pair of yellow eyes appeared, as if conjured from the void.
Those eyes...
Gil thought, finding them strangely familiar.
Those eyes locked onto the youths in the arena before curving into a crescent shape, as if smiling at them.
But this smile sent a bitter chill running down the spines of the captives.
Right after the first pair, another appeared, then another, and another, until they were too numerous to count.
They all stared hungrily at the prey in the arena, and then...
Khie... khie... khie... khie... khie, khie, khie, khie!
Khie, khie, khie, khie, khie, khie, khie, khie, khie, khie!
A single laugh rang out first, paused, and was then echoed by dozens of the things lurking behind the gates.
That laughter, dripping with malice and cruelty, momentarily dazed Gil as he was struck by a growing sense of familiarity—one he finally managed to place.
It wasn't that he had seen these creatures before.
He hadn't.
But someone else had.
Librom.
Indeed, those yellow eyes were the exact same ones he had seen right before the end of Librom's memories.
These things were the ones that had killed him... and who knew how many others.
Hearing the phantom voices in his ears growing in volume, fuelled by hatred and fear, Gil looked at the sea of blood.
It had begun to churn violently around him ever since the appearance of those eyes, and his expression grew cold.
The creatures finally stepped out of the darkness.
They were larger than dogs, with yellow, beady eyes fixed hungrily on the youths, spotted fur, and salivating maws.
The beasts' grotesque appearance was frightening enough on its own, causing many captives to recoil in horror, fear, and disgust.
But to Gil, whose sight was still active, it was infinitely worse.
In his eyes, the beasts were completely covered in a bloody, semi-transparent mist that flashed occasionally with red shadows—shadows that seemed to tear at the monsters or wail in utter anguish.
From their maws, bloody water poured instead of saliva, and their claws still bore the remnants of shredded flesh.
His stomach churned with disgust as a profound anger mounted in his mind.
As if feeling his gaze, one of the beasts snapped its head in his direction.
Then, its eyes locked past him.
Without waiting for its companions, the creature dashed forward—not at Gil, but straight at Greg.