"Arrggghhhhh!" Favour screamed at the top of her lungs, her body jolting violently from the swift, macabre death she had just seen unfold before her eyes.

Steven was the same, dazed, his teeth clattering against themselves in utter disbelief. He had run in first, she had been following close behind, then how... How... How had she been trapped on the other side of the door?

But there was no time for them to think, as the monstrous claws of the King Beast began to smash onto the other side of the door, trying to tear right through it to get to them.

"The corridors are too thin for it to come through! We have to go!" Scribe yelled, leading the way through the steep corridors in a frantic hurry.

Drake turned to the two, still lost in the daze of seeing Lin killed before their eyes so brutally. He strode up to them and yelled, "Don’t just freeze, we have to move and—"

Slap!!!

Favour reacted before he could finish, striking Drake with so much force that his face snapped to the side, his cheek reddening instantly. He turned back to her, his usual calm, collected composure now glowering down at her in cold disappointment, and then he left without a word.

Leaving the two standing there as the monster clawed at the door, deep gouges already vividly tearing into the metal.

"Let’s go, Favour," Steven finally said, grabbing onto her and taking some of her weight as he pulled her along. She was reluctant, opening her mouth to say something, but finding it hard to force the words out.

"She’s dead. We must live on because of her, that’s how sacrifices work." Steven tried his best to say this with an empty tone, but for some reason his voice was laced with pain, an agony he had not felt in years.

Hearing this, Favour became more submissive, and the two of them began to move.

The further they traveled through the corridors, the more distant the horrid noises of the rampaging King Beast became. Even when the iron door finally came crashing down behind them, all the Monstrous Disaster could do was roar and snarl in protest. Unfortunately for it, its sheer size had turned against it at this moment.

Soon its growls faded into the distance, but the scars it left on them were as fresh as ever.

As they walked, Steven’s mind, for the first time in a long while, began to crumble. So it was that easy for her to die? The question of how fragile humans truly were rose and fell in his thoughts with every uneven breath he took.

Then a hollow feeling clouded his chest as memories spent with the tough fighter, Lin, surfaced one after another.

"May she find peace, wherever her soul ends up after this," Steven whispered, only loud enough for Favour to hear.

Favour nodded, tears already streaming down her eyes. She had known Lin the most, and her anger burned hotter because she had seen the entire scene play out.

Steven hadn’t, but he had a good idea of what had occurred while he had already made it through. It was Drake. He was the one who had shut the door on Lin, locking her in with the King Beast.

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’You bastard!’ Steven retaliated inwardly. ’Off with you. I guess this is your average entertainment. So stop acting like you feel anything but joy.’

Images of the Colosseum audience and the Sea Deity flashed through his mind as he dismissed the notification. Truly, there was no difference between the two.

’All living things are scum.’

Finally, the two reached another door, which was already open thanks to Drake and his inhuman strength.

They entered the new room, finding themselves in some sort of compartment made entirely of metal. It had a steeply slanted floor that dipped toward the center of the room, with only one entrance and one exit. To Steven, it resembled the hollow insides of a massive water tank.

The only sources of light were two faintly glowing crystals embedded into the ceiling of the cubicle, casting a dim glow over the remaining Cohort members.

Steven and Favour limped forward to join the other two at the center of the cubicle, where they sat, Drake with his head lowered.

Steven felt Favour’s hands tighten around his forearm at the sight of Drake. She was barely holding herself back after what he had done, and only because of what Steven had said earlier was she probably able to stop herself from committing murder.

Drake noticed their arrival and slowly raised his head, his face twisted with disdain and grief. "I’m sorry. I didn’t know... I didn’t know what came over me," tears rolled down Drake’s face, a side of him none of them had ever seen exposed. "I was scared, okay? I reacted out of fear! It was a mistake! I killed her, didn’t I..."

He stared at his palm as if blood still stained it, the terror in his gaze making Favour soften just a little. Still, she could not forgive him.

Scribe, seeing the overly emotional moment, sighed, uninterested in getting more involved with the Cohort than he already was. "There’s a spiral staircase after this room. It should take us up and out of the Colosseum."

Steven nodded, opening his mouth to speak, but Drake cut in before he could. "But we have to rest first. Both of you are far more injured than either of us. You won’t make the climb."

Steven frowned. "Did I tell you I’m too weak to climb a few stairs?"

Drake shook his head obediently and shrugged. "You might make it through, but not her." He pointed at Favour’s leg, and all attention burned toward the bloody wound that clearly needed urgent treatment.

Steven tensed at the sight. He would be too weak to climb those stairs himself, let alone carry someone. Favour was worse off—her leg wouldn’t even let her make it up the first few steps. I can’t trust Drake with carrying her. Not after what happened to Lin.

With that, there was no other choice but to accept Drake’s offer. At least a night’s rest would heal him enough to make the climb with Favour, especially if she kept her buff active the entire time.

Steven turned to Favour and nodded, and the two moved to a section of the cubicle far from the other two, while Drake and Scribe remained at the center.

They seemed to engage in some kind of distant conversation, but Steven didn’t bother listening. He knew the only thing that ever came out of the old fool’s mouth was mostly nonsense—nonsense that Drake, the so-called honorable fatso, wouldn’t even consider in the first place.

Reaching the far end of the cubicle, Steven and Favour rested against the cold metallic wall.

As they sat down, Favour folded into her knees and began to cry once again. "He did it on purpose, and he’s just sitting there..."

Steven said nothing. He didn’t feel much anger toward Drake anymore. Instead, he became more alert, seeing the man as more of a threat than before. ’I knew a time like this would come, when trust would break in this sorry group. But we’ll soon be out of this place and the Nightmarish Realm. After today, we won’t even need to see each other again, so it shouldn’t be much of an issue staying with the bastard for a little longer.’

He then turned his gaze to Favour. "Can you keep your buff active while we rest? It’ll help me heal faster."

Favour nodded, wiping the tears from her already reddened eyes.

Steven raised his hand and gently patted her hair. He wanted to reassure her, tell her they would soon escape this horrid realm, but he stopped himself. He would rather stay silent than offer false hope he didn’t even believe in.

Time passed, and eventually Drake rose from the center of the cubicle, waving briefly. "I’ll take first watch," he announced.

He received nothing but glances filled with disdain and hatred from the two by the wall. Drake sighed and walked toward the passage leading into the cubicle, standing guard at the entrance, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

Steven stared at him for a moment, and so did Favour. Steven planned to stay awake the entire time. If it even was night—his eyes lifted to the ceiling, unable to tell day from night in this sealed space.

He sighed, then wrapped an arm around Favour and pulled her gently against his chest. She gasped softly in surprise at his sudden action.

"Cry on my chest if you want," he whispered.

Favour’s face reddened at his words, but she said nothing. Instead, she slowly leaned into his warmth, clinging to him to find a sense of comfort. If it existed.

Time slipped by, and Steven’s blinking grew heavier by the second, his gaze dulling until, finally, he drifted into sleep.

---

How long Steven slept, he could not tell. Perhaps it was the healing process, or perhaps it was the strange comfort of simply being alive after everything that had happened. Either way, as his rest began to end, he heard something that jolted him awake.

It was a wretched cry, his name being muttered between broken wails, a voice he was far too familiar with.

And when he opened his eyes, he was greeted by a gruesome sight he never expected to see.