Upon thinking this, Gil raised his guard.
Did they trick me? he thought, suddenly suspicious of the shadows and their warnings.
After all, if their disorganized group could gain an edge over the beasts with a single hint, those who had discovered the weakness before should have fared even better.
That was the first thought that came to his mind, but as soon as it arose, he dismissed it instantly.
It wasn't that he had suddenly grown too trusting.
But as he looked at those shadows, he found himself unable to believe they were a deception.
The piercing wails resounding in his ears.
The agonizing wave of anger and powerlessness they gave him.
The sheer frenzy with which they tore at those monsters, despite it being entirely in vain.
The urgency and faint expectation he felt when they conveyed the beasts' weakness.
Those feelings, those actions... if even that could be faked, then I don't know what else is true, Gil thought firmly.
So he racked his brain, trying to find a clue—anything.
Think, think, think.
First, the guidance: the eyes and the flanks.
Second, the threads linking that man, Lucius, to the beasts.
Third: Why, knowing the weakness, did those shadows still die?
He had a gut feeling that the answer lay somewhere amid those three points.
Gil's thoughts spun rapidly as he scanned the overall situation.
His eyes caught a member of the intent-less group trapped in a deadly predicament.
Gil remembered him; he was one of the people who had been consoling the young woman yesterday in the darkness. He was also one of those with skulls hovering around him.
Since the shift in the arena, their group's strategy had been one of the best, and perhaps emboldened by it, the youth had overreached.
He had tried to lure one of the beasts, only to find himself out of reach of his comrades. They could only watch in horror as the creatures encircled him and tore him apart.
Gil caught his last moments.
The frantic struggles to crawl back to safety.
The cruelty with which the beast maimed him.
The rapid darkening of the skulls around him as the monster's jaws snapped shut, looking almost as if they were laughing.
Then, his last, strangled screams...
Gil looked away, his complexion ugly.
Taking a shuddering breath, he thought, It may be our turn soon.
Then, he froze.
His head whipped back toward the remains of the youth who had just died—or more accurately, toward the beast that stood over him.
In his desperate struggles, that youth had subconsciously fought back with everything he had.
He had punched, scratched, and even kicked the beast in its flanks.
But it hadn't worked. If anything, it seemed to only enrage the monster, making the poor soul's end even more gruesome.
And that was what made Gil pause.
Others didn't notice this, but Gil, removed from the direct confrontation and actively searching for anomalies, took note.
Why did this specific beast seem entirely unaffected by the weakness?
Was this one different?
Or was it... their weakness itself?
His expression shifted drastically as a dreadful possibility crossed his mind.
Frantically searching through the fragments of memories he had absorbed earlier, the old doubts gnawed at him anew.
Indeed, in those visions, their unlucky predecessors had managed to hurt those things and gain an edge over them, just like Gil's batch was doing now.
But searching through those memories, there was one vital detail Gil looked for and could not find.
Something he was desperate to confirm to chase away the ominous feeling settling in his mind. No matter how deep he dug, it wasn't there.
As if someone were playing a cruel prank on him, the memories of those predecessors actually managing to kill those things were glaringly missing.
"Haaaa... so it's like that. I may have gotten it... wrong." Sighing heavily, Gil smiled bitterly.
He wasn't sure what the shadows meant anymore, but he was certain of one thing now: if they continued down this path, they would all end up filling the blood sea and joining the specters' ranks.
Looking at the youths trying their absolute best to strive for a chance at survival, he opened his mouth to warn them, but closed it, gritting his teeth.
Tell them? They would still die.
Stay silent, then? And then what?
Not yet! I refuse to believe it!
Unease and agitation warred in his mind.
Having had enough of guessing blindly, he decided to go search for answers directly.
Looking at the beast fighting Greg and the tomboy—or rather, the shadows entangling it—he knew exactly where to find them.
The beast that had bitten him earlier had been lured away by those two, as they likely considered Gil out of the fight.
It was a rare kind of thoughtfulness in a place like this.
So one could imagine their surprise and confusion when, while entangled with the creature, they saw a wounded Gil creeping up from behind the monster, looking like he was up to something.
The tomboy frowned at his actions, while Greg looked equal parts worried and frustrated.
Why won't you just stay still? Greg thought bitterly.
Gil's movements were noticed by the spectators, too. It couldn't be helped; his earlier actions had made him far too conspicuous.
Now that he was moving once more, many from the diverse layers up to the luxury lounge quickly focused on him.
Hector frowned, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he looked on.
Having kept his eye on Gil more than anyone else, he had picked up on the rapid shifts in the young man's expressions.
Though he was just as puzzled as the others as to why Gil was acting this way, he believed there was a method to the madness. He wasn't annoyed by the unpredictability; far from it, as the sharp arc of his lips gave away.
How interesting.
Aside from him, Lucius also looked intently at Gil. Despite no outward changes to his expression, his gaze began flickering elsewhere across the arena, tracking a different target.
"Groooouuuuhaaaarrgh!"
At that roar, a cold smile passed through Lucius's face before his features returned to a blank mask.
As Gil continued to draw closer to the fight, he paused abruptly, his eyes widening in horror. The feeling of a looming crisis that had been hanging over him since earlier suddenly... fell.
But it brought him no relief, because he knew exactly what that drop meant.
It meant the disaster had struck.
A sudden shift rippled through the arena, followed by a loud, bestial roar, and his ominous premonitions took physical form in that exact instant.
Over in the defensive circle of the intent-less young woman, her group had successfully encircled one of the beasts. Following an increasingly smooth chain of movements, they had completely blinded both of its eyes and pushed it to its absolute last legs.
But suddenly, the beast that had been cowering just moments before stood tall once more.
With a thunderous roar, a bloody red hue rose around its body, tainting its eyes. Its muscles bulged twistedly, its height shot up, and its wounded eyes squirmed, healing right before their naked eyes.
All of this unfolded under the horrified gazes of the young captives.
Once the transformation ended, the beast looked down at those who had tormented it so much.
A cruel glint danced in its eyes, and a terrifyingly human-like, mocking smirk warped its face.
Then, it flashed forward in a blur—much faster than before.
Lunging at the nearest youth, it swiped with a single claw, heavily injuring him and sending him flying across the dirt.
A hushed, horrified silence followed the dreadful display as the youths in the arena struggled to comprehend what they had just witnessed.
Faces paled, morale collapsed instantly, and despair spread like a plague among them once again.
The same frantic questions echoed in their minds:
What is happening?
Why did it turn out this way?
What are we supposed to do now?
"Groooouuuuhaaaarrgh!"
"Groooouuuuhaaaarrgh!"
"Groooouuuuhaaaarrgh!"
Unfortunately, there was no one to dispel their doubts or answer their questions.
Instead, more and more of the beasts began to change, raising absolute hell among the captives.
They were done playing with their food; now, only a vicious, untamed will to slaughter shone in their bloodshot eyes.
While the test-takers were paralyzed by surprise, they weren't the only ones.
Up in the stands, exclamations of shock rang out.
"What the hell is this?"
"Those beasts could do that?" someone asked aloud, prompting an older spectator to respond.
"Yes, they can," the veteran voice replied.
Feeling the sudden attention on him, he pursued, "It's been a while since it last happened, so it's normal you guys didn't know. Those beasts are the personal pets of Sir Lucius—did you really think they were that simple? Look closely, though they're a bit worse for wear, are any of them actually down for the count?"
At the mention of Lucius's name, a collective shudder ran through the surrounding crowd.
Looking closer at the pit, it was true; not a single one of those monstrosities had been felled.
The speaker continued in a low whisper, "Do you think these kids are the first batch to manage to hurt those things? Believe me, I have never seen any of those who did this have a good end. Whether they die in the arena, or..." He stepped back, unwilling to say more.
Though he didn't finish his sentence, those around him understood completely. Shaking their heads, one of them couldn't help but lament in a low voice, "Poor guys. They were unlucky enough to get sent here, and now..."
"Yes. I wonder how many of them will even be left standing after this."
Similar conversations were taking place everywhere across the stands.
Some pitied the youths below, some gloated over their misfortune, and others looked on with cold indifference.
In the lounge at the highest layer, the air was thick with tension as the situation took this drastic turn.
"Ah, yes. I forgot they could do that," Darius said tensely, his eyes shifting back and forth between a slightly smiling Lucius and a silent Hector, unable to find anything else to say.
"Aaaah, see that? That is exactly what I was worried about earlier," Lucius sighed, shaking his head lightly before tilting his chin toward the arena. "My pets are simply not stable enough. Given enough stimulation, they are prone to a total loss of control." He paused, casting a glance at the scene.
"What a pity. As you said, Hector, that kid was pretty good... but now, in his current state..."
Upon receiving a freezing glance from Hector, Lucius cut himself off, though his excellent mood remained obvious to everyone in the room.
Ignoring him, Hector looked back down as Gil's situation worsened in the arena.
As the beasts began to transform one after another, the one Gil's trio was fighting followed suit.
Gil didn't know if it was a trick of his mind, but something about this specific monster struck him as inherently different from the rest of its kind.
Before he could issue a warning of any kind to his companions, the thing acted.
It struck the tomboy first, swatting her to the side like a fly. It didn't even bother to follow up as she crashed to the ground and lay entirely immobile, her life or death unknown.
Next, becoming a sheer blur, it appeared instantly behind Greg, tearing into his back so deeply that white bone flashed through the crimson wounds.
Bleeding heavily, Greg fell to his knees.
Through the linking chain, Gil could feel a sudden surge of pure fear and despair as his partner tried to look back toward him one last time.
He didn't manage it, collapsing with a heavy thud onto the stone floor.
Finally, only Gil and the beast remained.
Around him, wails, curses, and desperate pleadings rang out, but he couldn't afford to give them any attention.
The beast neared him slowly, each of its heavy steps conveying the absolute confidence of a predator facing helpless prey.
It took its time, seemingly knowing he had nowhere left to run.
And indeed, Gil had nowhere to run.
But he didn't need to, nor did he intend to.
Instead, he proactively took a step forward toward the beast. Having cast his fears aside, he found himself surprisingly serene in this final moment.
The beast seemed surprised, its steps faltering for a fraction of a second before it resumed its advance.
Step by step, leaving everything else aside, man and beast found themselves face-to-face.
The monster sniffed the air, scrutinizing him, and Gil looked right back into its gaze.
Finally, he placed what had been bothering him so much about this creature: its eyes.
It sounded utterly ludicrous, but he could have sworn he saw something eerily looking like human intelligence reflecting within them.
Before he could analyze it further, the beast struck.
Gil felt a massive, bloody maw close heavily over his left shoulder.
His golden shield seemed to crack down the middle under the sheer force of the assault.
His brain didn't register the pain at first; he hadn't even seen the strike coming.
Just a blur, a brief daze... and then, the agony hit.
Pain like he had never felt before in his life.
"Haaaaaaaaargh!"
This time, he couldn't hold it in.
He screamed aloud, the sound tearing from his throat.
It seemed to please the monster. It didn't end him right away; instead, keeping his shoulder and a part of his left arm tightly clamped in its jaws, it slowly opened and closed its maw, grinding into his flesh and deepening the wounds further still.
Half-delirious from the excruciating pain, Gil used his only good limb—his right arm—and struck repeatedly at the beast's face, struggling desperately to free himself.
But though his strikes found their mark, their effect was no better than mosquito bites to the monstrosity.
To add to his torment, as if the physical agony weren't enough, the red shadows entangling the beast began to pass through the gaps in his cracked shield, making direct contact with his mind.
But he could no longer listen or focus.
As the blood loss mounted, he finally lost the strength to strike again.
He couldn't think of a single way to turn the situation around.
Yet, though almost rendered mad by the pain and with his strength entirely exhausted, he still tried instinctively to struggle.
Summoning the absolute last of his violent will, he leaned in and bit as fiercely as he could into the neck of the beast.
But his teeth couldn't pierce through the thick hide of the monster.
His desperate, final act prompted sighs, mocking laughter, and various reactions from the spectators above.
Lucius's smile widened.
Darius shook his head in pity.
Hector looked on closely, but didn't seem inclined to intervene.
The mysterious eyes hidden within the blood sea looked away.
But somewhere they could not see, something else happened.
At the exact same time Gil bit into the monster, his faithful aegis—though fractured down the center and stained almost entirely in dark blood—did not disappear.
Once more, responding to the raw, unyielding will of its master, the shield reacted.
The upper and lower fractures of the gold-red sphere arched in perfect sync.
The jagged edges where the shield had broken apart suddenly began to resemble a massive set of jaws, lined with mismatched, razor-sharp teeth.
And then, the shield snapped closed.