Chapter 5
Sacrament of the Flesh
Blood pooled beneath Mason's feet.
It wasn't fresh.
The thing lay crumpled beside the pedestal, twitching once before falling still. Black ichor hissed from the wound in its chest, steam rising in soft coils. The jagged pipe in his hand trembled. Not from fear. From the echo of violence still reverberating through his bones.
And yet—
[Eliminations Required: 0 / 2]
The system didn't update.
No chime. No reward. No fanfare.
Just silence.
Mason took a shaky step back, his breath catching in his throat.
"That… that wasn't a contestant," he said under his breath.
Naya didn't answer.
She stood behind him, pipe still raised, eyes locked on the corpse. Her stance was tight, defensive—but not panicked. The blood along her sleeve was already drying.
Mason swallowed hard.
The thing hadn't bled like a person. Hadn't moved like one. Whatever it was, it hadn't fought to survive—it had been programmed to kill. Efficient. Mechanical. Cold.
He turned to the walls. The Box was always humming, always breathing behind the steel. But now?
Nothing.
No voice. No lights. No movement.
Just stillness.
Then—he saw it.
A shape.
Small. Still. Too still.
Mason froze.
"Naya…"
"I see it."
The shape stepped forward, slipping from the shadows into the low, flickering light.
It was a boy.
Maybe fifteen. Thin. Pale. Hair matted against his forehead with sweat or something darker. He walked barefoot across the cold metal, leaving no sound—no rhythm to his steps. His eyes were wide and glassy, unfocused. His hands hung limp at his sides.
He stared at the corpse.
"You broke it," he said.
His voice was soft. Childlike. Empty.
Mason raised the pipe slowly.
"Who are you?"
The boy turned his head—slowly, like he wasn't used to the motion. His lips curled into a small smile that didn't touch his eyes.
"The Box is… upset," he said.
Mason's fingers tightened around the pipe. "Excuse me?"
"It told me someone would ruin its favourite." He paused, blinking lazily. "I didn't believe it."
Naya stepped forward. "The Box told you?"
He nodded. "It talks to everyone. You just don't listen."
Mason felt his skin crawl.
There was no system screen above the kid. No name. No stat display. No indication he'd ever been introduced to the challenge like the rest of them. But he wasn't a construct either. Not like the spider. Not like the fake.
He was human.
Or at least, he had been.
"What's your name?" Mason asked.
The boy tilted his head to one side.
"I don't remember. But the Box calls me… Ilun."
The name hung in the air like a drop of oil in water.
Ilun smiled wider. "It took the rest of me. In exchange."
Mason's stomach twisted. "For what?"
"For clarity."
Then he raised his arms.
The air behind him shimmered.
And the wires came.
Dozens of them.
Hair-thin threads of red metal spilled from his back—unspooling like blood turned solid. They slithered down his arms, his spine, across the floor like snakes hunting warmth. Each one moved with eerie precision. No wind. No tension. Just purpose.
"What the hell…" Naya breathed.
Mason took a step back. His boots stuck to the floor—dried blood, half-congealed.
Ilun didn't move.
"The Box says only one of you can leave."
[Eliminations Required: 0 / 2]
The screen pulsed again. Brighter this time. Hungrier.
"You're not a contestant," Mason said. "Are you?"
Ilun blinked slowly. "I was. Once. But then I listened. I obeyed. And now… I'm part of something bigger."
The wires snapped forward.
Mason dove.
A thread sliced past his cheek, so fast it took a second before the sting caught up. Blood welled across his face. Another thread buried itself in the floor where he'd stood moments ago—carving through metal like butter.
"Move!" Naya shouted, already sprinting toward the side.
The wires chased her.
Ilun remained still.
His arms hung loose. His body limp. The threads moved for him.
Sentient. Independent.
"I didn't want to hurt anyone," Ilun whispered. "But the Box is watching. It wants a show."
Mason stumbled behind a pillar, gasping. His heartbeat roared in his ears. Too close. Too fast.
He needed to bleed more. Just enough.
Bloodspark. Still not ready.
Red Wire? Not yet. Not unless he was ready to tear himself in half.
Across the chamber, Naya ducked a wire and rolled behind a broken panel. Sparks sprayed as another thread missed her head by inches.
"I said MOVE!" she shouted again.
"I am!" Mason snapped.
Another wire darted toward his ankle. He jumped. It clipped his boot—cutting through rubber like paper. He landed awkwardly, barely catching himself.
Ilun turned his head slowly toward him.
"You're loud," he said. "The Box doesn't like that."
"Then tell it to turn the volume down!" Mason roared.
Ilun blinked.
"You're funny. It says you're close."
Mason didn't ask to what.
He already knew.
Ilun's wires lunged again.
Mason ducked low and rolled toward a pile of fractured metal. A sliver of shrapnel tore through his sleeve, opening a shallow gash across his bicep. The pain hit a moment later—sharp, dirty, real.
Good.
He crouched behind the debris, teeth clenched.
Almost there…
He could feel it coming. The tightness in his chest. The flutter behind his eyes. Bloodspark building like static behind his ribs. He just needed—
A cry from Naya.
He turned.
She was on the defensive now, backpedaling as three wires boxed her in from different angles. Her pipe kept them at bay, but barely. Each swing was slower. Sloppier. She was bleeding—he couldn't see how badly, but enough that the Box had probably noticed.
And Ilun—Ilun was watching.
Head tilted.
Smiling.
Mason moved.
He sprinted out from cover, grabbed a long piece of broken conduit, and swung it like a bat. The nearest thread snapped on contact—light as floss but sharp as razors. Sparks flew. He turned with the momentum, shielded Naya's flank just as a second wire lunged.
It struck him in the ribs.
Too deep.
He gasped.
Pain bloomed like fire across his torso.
And then—everything changed.
[Skill Triggered: Bloodspark]
Incoming damage detected. Adrenaline surge initiated.
The world slowed.
His vision narrowed.
His hands stopped shaking.
Every breath felt like a war drum inside his skull.
Ilun's wires moved again.
But Mason moved faster.
He stepped inside their arc and drove his makeshift weapon straight into Ilun's chest.
SCHK.
The conduit snapped in half—striking bone but not killing.
Ilun stumbled back.
One eye wide.
The wires spasmed violently.
"You shouldn't be able to—" he started.
Mason punched him.
Once. Twice. A third time.
The boy crumpled. Blood splashed across the floor.
Mason followed him down, knee pressed to Ilun's chest. He raised the broken pipe and slammed it into the other's shoulder.
CRACK.
Ilun screamed.
The wires flailed, then recoiled.
From the corner of his eye, Mason saw Naya charge in—her pipe rising and falling in vicious arcs. She wasn't trying to subdue him.
She was trying to end it.
Ilun choked, coughing blood.
"The Box… still wants… a sacrifice…"
"Then tell it to take you first," Mason growled.
He raised his weapon for a final strike—
—but stopped.
The wires had gone limp.
Ilun blinked slowly.
He didn't speak again.
Mason stood, chest heaving.
Blood dripped from his fingers. His shoulder ached. His ribs felt like shattered glass under his skin.
He backed away.
The wires curled into themselves like worms in salt. Then shriveled. Then vanished.
Ilun didn't move.
Naya leaned on her pipe, breathing ragged.
"Is he… dead?"
Mason didn't answer right away.
He looked at the screen above the pedestal.
[Eliminations Required: 1 / 2]
Still one more.
Still not enough.
He stared down at the broken boy on the floor. Blood pooled beneath Ilun's head. His eyes were open—but not seeing. Lips parted. A faint smile frozen in place.
Mason turned away.
Naya dropped beside him, clutching her arm. "He was crazy," she said softly.
"No." Mason shook his head. "He was converted."
She frowned.
"He let the system into his head. Maybe even begged for it."
"That a thing now?" she muttered.
Mason didn't reply.
The Box didn't need to take your body. Not if it could turn your mind.
He looked at her.
At the door behind the pedestal.
It had opened.
One beam of light. Just one.
A way out.
Naya saw it too.
And everything inside the room seemed to hold its breath.
"You think it'll let both of us through?" she asked, voice quiet.
"No."
"You think it'll make us fight?"
"…It already did."
Their eyes met.
She looked away first.
"I'm not doing it," she said.
"You'd rather die?"
"I'd rather not become him."
Silence.
Then—
The corpse moved.
Ilun's body twitched once. Then again.
The wires were gone. But something else stirred.
Something beneath the skin.
Ilun's body twitched.
Mason froze.
A spasm. A jerk. The fingers flexed against the floor—slow, deliberate. The torso rose an inch off the metal, vertebrae popping one by one.
"No," Mason breathed. "Stay down. Stay—"
Ilun's head lifted.
The neck twisted sharply. Too far. Too wrong.
The smile came back, stitched wide across a slack face. No eyes. Just black sockets glowing faint red from within. A low, wet click echoed as the spine snapped back into place.
Naya stepped forward. "What the—?"
Ilun lunged.
The wires spilled from his body in a frenzy, shrieking like razors pulled from bone.
Mason didn't hesitate.
He reached inward—instinct overriding reason—and pressed the node in his spine.
[Skill Activated: RED WIRE]
Neurological override engaged. Pain suppression online. Adrenaline saturation critical.
Sanity cost pending…
You have 7 seconds.
Everything slowed.
Everything burned.
His body snapped into motion.
The wires reached for him—he dodged one, grabbed another, and tore it free with a snarl. Ilun rose fully now, limbs twitching like a corpse pulled by invisible strings.
Mason drove his fist into the boy's chest—once, twice—heard ribs give way.
The wires retaliated, slicing across his back.
He didn't feel them.
He felt invincible.
He caught Ilun by the neck and slammed him into the wall hard enough to dent the steel. Then again. And again. Until blood sprayed in wide arcs, painting the chamber red.
The creature screeched—voice overlapping, broken, wrong.
"You're not real!" Mason roared. "You're not real!"
A wire wrapped around his wrist. He bit it off. Bit.
He felt the copper split on his teeth.
He grabbed a loose shard of metal from the floor and drove it into the creature's side—deeper, until it hit the core.
A light flared inside Ilun's ribs.
Mason reached in and ripped it out.
Ilun spasmed.
Screeched.
Collapsed.
The wires fell limp.
His heart thundered in his ears.
The screen blinked above him—
[Eliminations Required: 2 / 2]
[Reward Gate Unlocked]
He backed away, panting. Blood dripped from his hands. His vision blurred.
It was over.
It was done.
He dropped the shard. Fell to his knees.
The world shifted again.
[RED WIRE Deactivation Imminent]
Sanity drop: -21%
Current Sanity: 67%
Side effects may include confusion, hallucination, derealization.
The high vanished.
Pain came flooding back.
His head swam.
The chamber lights dimmed. The air felt colder.
"Naya," he rasped, turning.
"Hey. We did it. I—"
He stopped.
There was no one standing.
Only a broken body at his feet.
Not Ilun.
Not anymore.
It was her.
Naya.
Her pipe lay nearby, bent and bloodied. Her body—torn open at the ribs. Her arm—missing. Her eyes—
Still wide.
Still staring.
"No."
His breath caught.
"No no no no—"
He dropped beside her.
Shaking hands reached out.
"Please—please, say something—say—"
Her throat had been crushed.
The same way he'd crushed Ilun's.
Except…
Except Ilun's body still lay across the room. Intact.
Untouched.
Mason turned, eyes wild.
The "creature" he had fought…
Was gone.
There was no second Ilun. No wires. No attack.
There had never been a resurrection.
Just him.
Just Naya.
Just the Box.
His fingers curled into fists, smearing blood across his palms.
The screen above flickered.
[Eliminations Complete]
[Passage Cleared]
The exit opened with a soft hiss.
Sterile white light spilled across the carnage.
But Mason didn't move.
He stared at the girl he had promised not to fight.
The girl who trusted him.
The one who had never raised her weapon.
His whisper broke in the hollow silence.
"…What have I done?"
He didn't know how long he knelt beside her.
His hands were still on her shoulders. One of them shaking. The other one numb. His breath came in ragged gasps. The kind that didn't reach the lungs. That just rattled inside his throat like broken machinery.
The Box had gone quiet again.
Not out of mercy.
Just satisfaction.
He looked at her face one last time. Not as a warrior. Not as a rival. Just as someone who'd stood beside him. Just as Naya.
"I didn't mean to," he whispered. "I didn't mean to…"
He couldn't even finish the sentence.
Then—something shifted.
A soft chime rang through the chamber.
It wasn't cheerful.
It never was.
The air shimmered above him. A familiar glow spread out like mist across the floor. Cold. Sterile.
[Auto-Recovery Activated]
The pulse hit his chest first—cool and sharp, like ice melting through his sternum. Then it rolled through his limbs. Pain dulled. Cuts closed. Skin sealed. Even the scorched nerves numbed out.
His breath steadied.
His wounds faded.
Vitality: 100%
HP: 100%
Sanity: 67%
Status: Stabilized. Reward Tier: Standard.
But none of that helped.
Naya didn't get healed.
The Box didn't rewind what he'd done. It had no use for mercy. Only metrics.
Another hiss echoed through the chamber.
Behind the pedestal, a seam opened in the wall.
A new door.
Its frame shimmered—not sterile blue like before, but red. Dull, angry. Pulsing faintly in time with his heart.
Welcoming him forward.
Mason stared at it.
The way it stood there—open, waiting, indifferent—made something in him break.
He rose slowly.
Every step felt mechanical.
He walked past Ilun's body. Past Naya. Past the wire-slashed walls and the blood still drying on his hands.
No voice congratulated him.
No reward screens.
Just that one last system prompt:
[Passage Cleared]
He stood at the threshold.
Didn't move.
His hand brushed the edge of the doorway.
And for a moment—just a breath—he thought he heard her voice.
"Together?"
He flinched.
Looked back.
She was still dead.
Still broken.
No miracle.
Just memory.
Just guilt.
He stepped through the door.
The metal closed behind him with a final clang.