A bit before the beast lunged at Greg, Gil had read its movements.
Just like against Hector, with his sight active, he could predict the actions of the one he observed based on what he saw.
Using this to his advantage, he began to move before fully understanding what he was doing, throwing himself between the creature and his partner.
He braced himself for impact, crouching down slightly with his left arm forward as a shield and his right poised to strike.
But as the beast drew near, just as it was about to intrude upon the space of his sphere, it came to an abrupt halt. Taking him completely by surprise, it changed direction sharply, pushing hard against the ground to bypass him and continue its assault on Greg.
"Greg!" Gil managed to call out.
This chain of events happened too quickly for him to react. It was proof that being able to predict something was one thing, but managing to react in time was another.
Because he had already committed to his previous movement, he found himself unable to pivot as, in the blink of an eye, the creature lunged at his friend.
Why is it so dead set on him? he thought.
Casting those thoughts aside and temporarily forgetting about the other beasts behind him, he turned his back on them to go support Greg.
Greg had gone through a rollercoaster of emotions in the span of seconds—from being the initial target, to Gil's intervention, and back to being pursued by the beast.
He stood frozen in place as it advanced upon him.
Gil cursed, dashing forward, but that was the exact instant Greg finally moved.
As if a switch had been flipped, Gil saw something meld into Greg. The young man rolled forward, adroitly brushing past the creature as it leaped at him, narrowly dodging its claws and limbs.
What the...
Stunned speechless by the display, Gil failed to stop his forward dash, and the two ended up colliding.
Greg tumbled to the tomboy's feet and quickly gathered himself up again, and the two of them advanced together to help.
Meanwhile, Gil crashed to the arena floor, effectively exchanging places with Greg.
It was a rather pathetic sight, indeed—one that might have made someone laugh under different circumstances.
But this was no time for laughter, particularly when the beast whirled around, furious at being tricked, and lunged at the meddlesome Gil for a bite.
This time, it tore straight through Gil's sphere, staining it with bits of red.
Gil barely managed to sit up hastily and block with his left forearm. He was once again assaulted by that rotting stench.
Then...
Crunch.
The makeshift guard of clothes offered no resistance. Next came his flesh, which tore easily, until his bones finally caught in the fearsome jaws as Gil's blood poured out.
As if a signal had been given, the other beasts sprang into action. They all poured out of the gates and rushed toward the other youths.
Fortunately, they seemed to ignore Gil's trio—perhaps because they were already the prey of one creature, or perhaps because there was plenty of other meat to choose from.
Who knew?
Nonetheless, cries of fear and pain soon echoed throughout the arena.
Following these developments, the stands exploded with noise and chatter once more.
"First blood! Hahaha! You owe me a thousand credits! I told you that guy would go down first, didn't I? Pay up!"
"Damn it, so useless. And here I thought he had some skills. Tsk."
"It's just the beginning. Just wait, those newcomers won't last long if they're all like him."
"Wanna bet how many of them will die this time? I say less than half."
"Piss off! Should I bet on more than that, then? Go away."
From these exchanges, it was easy to see that the spectators didn't think highly of the youths' chances.
But they weren't the only ones.
Everywhere in the arena, particularly in the lower layers, similar conversations arose alongside even louder sounds of jeering and mocking laughter.
Even in the higher layers, though they weren't as loud, most were unimpressed by the speed at which Gil had been taken down and the clumsiness he had shown.
As for the five at the highest level, two didn't think much of it and looked on indifferently.
The one in the foremost seat looked toward Hector and said,
"Your favorite doesn't seem like much. Looks like you can make mistakes too, Hector."
Though said lightly, the intent to mock and disparage was obvious.
Hector ignored him, his eyes locked intently on Gil.
A bit displeased, the other party snorted softly and didn't push further.
The mood grew tense for a moment until Darius broke the silence. "Hey, Hector, you aren't going to do anything?"
"Hmm?" Still looking forward, Hector finally responded.
Taking it as his cue, Darius continued uncertainty, "I mean, at this rate, the kid is going to die. It would be a pity, no?"
"What does it matter to me? If he dies, he dies. I am not his nanny. But..." Hector paused, standing up brusquely and leaning forward to get a better look at the arena.
Smiling widely, he continued, "...aren't you all burying him a bit too quickly?"
Down in the arena, a new commotion was rising.
Both Greg and the tomboy had encircled the beast biting down on Gil, but they hesitated, unsure of what to do.
Since its jaws were clamped firmly onto his arm, they feared hurting Gil in the process of helping him, causing the situation to fall into a stalemate.
Meanwhile, Gil wasn't as pinned to the ground as they and many in the audience believed.
He was seriously wounded and his situation was perilous, yes—but it wasn't hopeless.
Earlier, upon emerging from his vision, he had pieced together from the fragments of Librom's memories that he would be pitted against something he and most of those sent here couldn't handle.
He had been racking his brain for a way to survive, and the only answer he came to required paying a heavy price.
He had needed the beast to commit fully.
Needed it close enough.
Needed it unable to retreat.
And that was exactly what he had accomplished.
Granted, everything hadn't gone perfectly according to plan.
He hadn't expected the beast to target Greg with so much persistence, Greg's sudden prowess, nor had he anticipated that they would accidentally get in each other's way.
But he had successfully trapped the jaws of the beast with his forearm.
Smiling through the agonizing pain and ignoring the awful smell coming from it, he looked at the hideous creature and muttered,
"Why aren't you laughing anymore, huh?"
The beast tried to dislodge its teeth or crush his limb entirely, but Gil refused to let it do as it pleased, continuing to struggle against it.
However, there was another variable Gil hadn't accounted for: the effects of the red shadows.
Though his sphere didn't protect him physically from the beast, it was a powerful shield against those shadows.
But as the seconds ticked by and he stayed in physical contact with the creature, he was forced into direct contact with them as well.
"######!"
"####!"
Since arriving in the arena, the chaotic mix of voices he heard had never carried any intelligible meaning. It was quite the opposite; the voices constantly rattled his ears and caused pounding headaches, doing nothing to help his current condition.
"######!"
"####!"
Because of that, it took him a moment to realize that the voices had suddenly gained meaning.
At least from all those voices, two of them seemed to be trying to convey something different.
By then, his shield, originally a pale gold, was reddening at an increasingly rapid pace.
By the time he became aware of the issue, it was too late.
Though still standing, his shield had let a portion of the shadows through, carrying with them fragments of their past memories.
The bad news was that this sudden interference made him slip, and though it lasted only the time of a breath, it was enough for the beast to inflict more damage to him, even injuring his other arm—though not as heavily as the left.
But the good news was greater.
First, thankfully, likely due to the shield still holding or the fact that this wasn't his first time experiencing a memory overload, he didn't black out like with Librom, nor did he mistake himself for those people after taking in their memories.
Secondly, he finally made sense of the meaning of those two voices.
FLANKS!
EYES!
Those two words were what they were trying to convey to him. Adding to it, those bits of memories showing people hitting those beasts this way...
Joy shone in his eyes. They had a weakness!
Upon learning this piece of good news, Gil felt a surge of delight and grinned viciously at the beast.
He could feel his strength leaving him little by little, making it harder and harder to keep the beast pinned, but before going under, he gathered every ounce of his remaining strength to bellow:
"TARGET THE EYES AND THE FLANKS OF THOSE THINGS!"
Then, he finally couldn't hold on anymore and collapsed defenselessly on the ground.
The beast's maw hung inches from his face.
For a brief instant, it overlapped with the final image left behind by Librom's memories.
So this is how it ends...
Gil's lips twitched into a bitter smile.
Looks like I'm next.