The silence felt oppressive, weighing down at Sezel's chest. as if the Spirit Realm itself sought to smother their fleeting existence.
They stood like sacrificial lambs before the stone throne, while the six Black Knights that brought them here and the four other bowed down on one leg. The clearing held its breath, the air thick with an unspoken verdict.
Suddenly Sezel's breath heaved, his body burdened beneath an unseen weight. He glanced at his companions; all were collapsing to their knees, gasping beneath the same crushing burden.
What kind of power is this? Pain surged through his dislocated arm, a white-hot torment that buckled his legs.
He sank to the earth, gritting his teeth to keep his head aloft, his eyes locked on the throne. From behind it, another figure emerged. It was built like the other knights but was easily twice their size, a three-meter-tall behemoth of black iron
Sezel couldn't shake the feeling of dread now coiling around his heart stronger than before, Why do i feel so uneasy looking at that giant thing.
A primal fear beyond the Night Crawlers' savagery, it felt as though the giant's unseen gaze was peeling back the layers of his soul.
The Giant Black Knight walked in front of the throne, each step shaking the earth itself. its colossal form slumped on the throne, such a heavy black iron armor just sat on a stone throne and still there was no clang sound.
Before they could process this new terror, two more figures appeared, identical to the bowing knights, but radiating an aura of palpable power.
Sezel's mind spun. What is happening here? He shot a desperate glance at Arty, whose knowledge of this realm far surpassed his own. The Awakened Slayer's face was ashen, his eyes wide with a dawning, terrible understanding.
"This can't be," Arty whimpered, his voice broken. "No... no, it's not possible."
Hearing the sheer terror in the Slayer's voice sent a fresh wave of cold sweat down Sezel's spine. Okay, this is beyond bad.
But the next moment was even more twisted.
The Mighty Black Knight King, as Sezel now thought of him, raised a metallic arm. Its polished surface gleamed in the eerie purple light, a gesture that seemed to command the very air. Its helm remained still, yet a voice thundered, resonant as divine judgment:
[Tie Them]
The words were a blade to the soul, stripping the group's will to stand. Sezel's breath came in gasps, his body trembling as he stared at the ashen earth. Sweat drenched his tattered clothes, his mind reeling What was that? what is this thing? this voice carried a weight that crushed hope itself.
Five Black Knights rose in unison and advanced, clutching ropes woven from what looked like twisted, blackened wood. Sezel's heart hammered against his ribs. He looked for any sign of resistance in the others, but found only despair.
Then Arty snapped.
He scrambled to his feet and sprinted toward the throne, collapsing to his knees before the colossal figure. "Oh, Great Ruler of the Knights in Black!" he wailed, his voice echoing through the lifeless clearing, tears streaming down his face. He rubbed his nose on the ground like a pathetic dog.
Sezel's jaw tightened, a strange mixture of awe and disgust churning in his stomach. How does this coward find such courage? It wasn't courage, he realized. It was the desperate audacity of a cornered, dying human.
"Please spare this useless human." he begged.
The advancing knights stopped. The trick, it seemed, was working. Relief and dread warred within Sezel. Something feels wrong. Something has felt wrong since the moment we entered this place. He instinctively touched his dislocated arm, his fingers tracing a small, familiar birthmark hidden beneath his sleeve.
A laugh erupted from the King, a grating, soul-wrenching sound that seemed to tear at the very fabric of their being. Arty froze, his desperate gamble crumbling to dust.
[I will give you a chance.]
The words shifted the air, a flicker of hope igniting in Arty's wide eyes, mirrored by the leader, his subordinate, and even Rilli, who had been lost in shock. "What... what does the Lord demand?" Arty asked, his voice trembling with a mixture of terror and eagerness.
[Choose one from your group as the sacrifice. I will send the rest back to your world. I only need one of you.]
Sezel's breath caught in his throat. What? He knew, with a sickening certainty, exactly what this meant for him. Why, you bastard? he cursed inwardly, a useless ant before a god.
The situation they were in was only ending at a single destination, and that was death, but by however chance Arty had earned them another way or so the circumstances claimed. It was the best offer for the group and the worst at the same time.
Sezel's heart sank, the inevitability of betrayal clawing at him.
Arty crawled toward the group, a grotesque joy twisting his features. "We have a chance to escape," he began, voice bright with false hope, then darkening. "But one must be sacrificed." His gaze locked onto Sezel, lingering at the rear.
This atrocious bastard. Sezel grinded his teeth.
Slowly the whole group's eyes wandered towards him with judgment, making him feel the odd one out. He stood up and took a step back.
The leaders eyes were filled with tears, his tone a crackling whisp, "You were right from the start Arty. We must sacrifice Sezel."
His subordinate nodded, a silent affirmation. Rilli remained still, her gaze fixed on the earth, eyes wide with shock, her hands trembling.
Please, not you too, Rilli.
[Fast. I don't have much time. Or all of you will die.]