INT. DINING HALL – NIGHT
Long tables stretch across the hall. For once, no trials, no rankings, no speeches — only food. Survivors eat in silence at first, but slowly the tension eases. Some laugh nervously, others share stories as if this might be their last meal.
Kael sits with Arven, Julian, and a few others, his eyes wandering. Finally, he stands and walks to the far end of the hall.
Kael: So... you're the strongest.
Kairo Veyra, Rank #1, sits alone, untouched food in front of him. His skin is pale, almost lifeless, his eyes dull.
Kairo (flat): Hm.
Kael studies him carefully.
Narration (Kael's thought): Strongest? He looks more like a corpse than a warrior.
Kairo lowers his gaze, silent. Kael returns to the others, unsettled.
INT. DINING HALL – LATER
Conversations pick up. Survivors begin introducing themselves — fragments of lives before this nightmare. Someone jokes about missing fast food. Another whispers about their family. For a brief moment, they feel human again.
Arven forces a smile when Kael nudges him, but his thoughts are elsewhere. He glances around the room. In one corner, a small cluster of survivors sit together, whispering too quietly for anyone else to hear. Their eyes dart across the hall like predators. Dark intent lingers — not enough to expose, just enough to unsettle.
Narration: Not all bonds were born from trust. Some were already plotting... something darker.
INT. OBSERVATION CORRIDOR – NIGHT
After the meal, Arven wanders alone, restless. He stops before a tall glass window, the night sky visible beyond. Stars glimmer faintly, reminding him of home, of May, of everything he's lost.
A quiet voice breaks the moment.
Kwame: You're Arven, right?
Arven turns. Kwame Oba, Rank #2, stands beside him, tall and steady.
Arven: ...Yeah. That's me.
Kwame doesn't smile. His eyes remain sharp, weighing Arven like a scale.
Kwame: Tell me... do you think everyone here is loyal?
The question freezes Arven.
Arven: What...?
Kwame (firm, quiet): Look around. Do you really believe all hundred came here to fight demons?
Arven's chest tightens. The whispers in the dining hall. The strange glances. The plotting eyes.
Arven (low): ...No. I don't think so.
Kwame nods once, then turns to leave, his footsteps fading into the corridor.
Narration: In that moment, Arven realized the truth. The demons waiting in Hell were not the only threat. There were others — closer, quieter, hidden among them.
To be continued...