While the survivors were finally about to get some much-needed respite after the horrors they had endured, someone else wasn't quite so lucky.
Deep within the cold, subterranean labyrinth of the base, a sterile sick ward hummed with quiet, tense energy.
Four people occupied the room: three unconscious youths and one very conscious older man.
Gil, Greg, and the tomboyish young woman lay in adjacent beds.
They had been changed into clean, simple grey garments.
Both Greg and the young woman were now breathing smoothly, a healthy, rosy complexion having returned to their faces. The dreadful lacerations and severe physical trauma previously inflicted upon them had completely vanished without a trace.
They were entirely out of danger, looking as though they might flutter their eyes open at any moment.
But Gil's case... was a bit trickier.
Hector stood over the unconscious boy, scrutinizing his twitching face with a deep, heavy frown.
What is going on with him now?
"Hngmm... hngmm... hmmm..."
In his bed, situated slightly away from the other two, Gil was tossing and turning restlessly.
A thick layer of cold sweat coated his forehead as he mumbled unintelligible words, occasionally grunting in sheer agony.
Worse still, his frantic thrashing was growing increasingly violent.
At this rate, he was going to end up severely injuring himself—and to make matters more frustrating, he simply couldn't be woken up.
No matter what physical or sensory stimuli Hector tried to administer, it was entirely useless; the young man remained locked deep within his fitful slumber.
Is this another trick of that snake ?
Hector thought, his eyes narrowing dangerously as a sharp, murderous glint flashed through them.
He pondered the possibility for a brief moment before reluctantly dismissing it.
No. Lucius wouldn't be so incredibly obvious about it. Which means...
"Urgh... hummm... Arghhhh!"
Suddenly, Gil's struggling spiked in intensity.
With a violent lurch, he nearly threw himself right off the edge of the mattress, forcing Hector to swiftly pin him down and secure his limbs to the bedframes with thick leather restraints.
Looking down at the still-squirming, bound boy, Hector let out a long, highly annoyed breath.
"How troublesome."
Rewind Time: Much Earlier
After letting out a raspy, good-natured laugh that he half-expected to be his absolute last, Gil's vision had plunged into pitch-black darkness.
At first, he felt himself growing weaker and weaker.
His limbs grew icy cold, and he gradually lost all awareness of his physical body.
He couldn't feel, hear, smell, touch, or taste a single thing.
All he was left with was his mind, his raw thoughts.
Despite the terrifying sensory deprivation, he somehow managed to keep his composure—a fact that, upon reflection, made him feel rather pleased with himself.
Not many people his age would have handled a descent into the void quite so calmly.
Is this what death feels like ? he wondered idly.
If it is... then it's honestly not so bad.
Thinking back to his final moments in the arena, he felt a strange sense of satisfaction.
If those really were his final seconds on earth, they were damn good ones. It could have gone a lot worse.
At the very least, after years of running away and hiding behind excuses, he hadn't backed down this time.
He had stood his ground proudly against a literal monstrosity.
Even when the beast had begun to slowly grind his shoulder to dust, he had bitten back with everything he had, never once thinking of retreating.
And in the end, he had successfully brought the nightmare down.
He had truly given it his all.
Wait, how did I even manage to do that ?
Well, who cares? I won !
He pondered the mystery of his sudden upset briefly before giving up.
What did it matter now? He was dead.
He had dragged his foe down to hell with him, and that was plenty.
There was no point in getting too picky about the details.
Though, I do wonder how those two are doing...
They were seriously hurt before I fell down. But since I killed the beast, the test should have ended. I just hope those masked bastards actually bother to patch them up...
In the seemingly infinite darkness, with absolutely nothing else to do, Gil let his mind wander freely.
He thought of Greg and the tomboy, who had spontaneously thrown themselves into danger just to help him.
He thought of the other captives in the arena—particularly the few interesting outliers he had noted before the chaos started.
He thought of those cloaked bastards running the show, directing some particularly vicious, uncharitable thoughts toward Hector and that creepy puppet-master who controlled the threads.
He recalled the bizarre things he had seen and felt during the battle: the phantom red sea, the twisting shadows, and those stranges eyes peering at him from a bloody ocean.
And finally... his thoughts drifted to his best friend, El.
He wondered how the guy was doing, silently hoping he wouldn't do anything reckless.
After all, doing reckless things was supposed to be his job.
Sorry, El. Looks like I won't be able to see you again after all...
At that final thought, his internal monologue suddenly went dead silent.
A heavy, suffocating stillness settled over his mind.
Then, out of nowhere, a fierce, burning wave of unwillingness took hold of him.
Composure be damned. I don't want to die yet !
And I definitely refuse to die in the sick, twisted games of those masked psychopaths !
Who the hell are they to decide how and when I live or die?!
So what if they're strong? I can—no, I WILL become strong too !
I will learn more about "that" power.
I will become strong enough to beat Hector and his entire goon squad.
I will leave this godforsaken place alive, and I will go back to see El !
I have way too much left to do !
I refuse to die here. I won't die to some mindless beast, and I sure as hell won't die for a bunch of cowardly rats who are too afraid to show their actual faces in the light !
I won't die. I refuse to die !
I. WON'T. DIE. HERE !!!
As his thoughts grew increasingly frantic, his mental space began to churn violently.
He swore to himself that he would never forgive himself if he let everything end in a pathetic whimper like this.
But as incredibly fierce as his determination was, it didn't seem to have much of an physical impact.
He couldn't cause even a single ripple in the vast, empty void he was trapped in.
Refusing to give up, he desperately racked his brain, searching for any possible way to break free of the darkness.
And then...
Hnghn—!
Pain.
A sharp, deep, agonizing pain—the likes of which he had never experienced before—struck his consciousness like a lightning bolt.
Caught completely off guard, his mind reeled from the shock.
But right after the initial agony settled, a sudden spark of realization hit him.
I can feel pain again!
Gil's thoughts instantly turned jubilant.
He never would have imagined that a day would come where he would be so happy to feel pain.
However, his joy was incredibly short-lived.
The sharp spikes of pain quickly multiplied, growing exponentially worse with each passing second.
What the hell is going on?!
He barely had time to process the thought before another severe wave of agony practically ripped through his consciousness.
By pure instinct, he began to track the origin of the sensation.
It was incredibly difficult at first, but the relentless, burning torture and a sudden, primal sense of urgency rising from the depths of his being pushed him to keep searching.
Though he didn't seem to possess a physical body, he felt his consciousness begin to "move."
Slow and clumsy at first, he rapidly picked up the pace, hurtling forward.
Finally getting a solid grip on the trick, he began to follow the sensory trail of pain, embarking on a deep journey inward.
The urgent, panicked calling he felt grew louder and louder in tandem with the physical agony, fueling his anxiety.
He threw every ounce of his willpower into his descent, trying to arrive at his destination even a single second faster.
He had an instinctive, terrifying premonition: if he was late, if he failed to make it in time... the consequences would be far beyond anything he could ever hope to bear.
Armed with this grim conviction, he advanced tirelessly through the dark.
After what felt like an eternity of traveling through the monotonous void, sparse glints of light, resembling faraway stars, began to paint the all-encompassing blackness.
They came in every imaginable size, shape, and level of brightness.
The deeper he descended, the more of these stellar lights appeared.
They drifted lazily in the void, their gentle, multi-colored glows illuminating the dark and forming a breathtaking celestial landscape—a cosmic scenery beautiful enough to steal a person's soul.
Unfortunately, Gil—the only observer present to appreciate this grand miracle—was in absolutely no mood to give the magnificent view a second glance.
He had finally arrived at the absolute source of the pain and the desperate call.
Floating quietly amidst the vast ocean of stars was a massive, singular island of solid earth.
And there, resting upon the floating mass, was a familiar golden, ethereal sphere.
Only now, it stood far larger than he had ever seen it before. It was brighter, more vibrant, and remarkably real.
Brilliant wisps of golden, flame-like light rose majestically from its crown, pooling together to resemble a fiery, glowing horn or filament.
Though slightly altered and vastly more powerful, Gil recognized it instantly.
It was his faithful Aegis.
The mysterious apparition that had accompanied him ever since he first began to explore his strange faculties.
The very power he had wielded to slay the chimera.
But his heart instantly plummeted.
It... was under attack.