The skeletons, mercilessly, lifted Anna's unconscious body from the ground.
They dragged her along like a weightless object, and a few steps away—apart from the rest of the group—tossed her to the floor.
As if they were trying to categorize:
Group One: William, Daggerol, Sylphy.
Group Two: Only Anna.
And a heavy silence hovered overhead.
Daggerol was still breathing, but each breath came with blood.
The skeletons' bone strikes had shattered him from within.
Sylphy had collapsed—no more hope, no logic.
Only her endless screams filled the hall.
William, in a corner, with half-open eyes, struggled to stay conscious. The world spun around him.
The demon, calm and with a sickly tone, approached Sylphy.
Her breaths had become heavy and rapid—like a creature caught in a trap, knowing the end was near.
The demon leaned in; brought his face close to hers—so close she could smell the sulfur and blood in his breath.
Then…
He exhaled softly, calmly, and gently into her ear.
There was no sound, but its warmth crept into Sylphy's soul like a snake's bite.
Then the demon placed his finger over his own lips.
Sylphy suddenly fell silent.
With a fear deeper than terror, she clasped her hands over her mouth—
as if even a sound escaping her throat would hasten death itself.
The demon smiled faintly.
In a calm, admiring voice—like someone praising a well-trained dog—he said:
"Good girl…"
And with a touch more humiliating than affectionate, he gently patted her head.
Then stood, stepped back, and began walking—towards Vantias.
His gaze stayed locked on the young man—
the one still trapped within himself, between shadow and light, between choice and regret, between who he was and who he was meant to be.
The demon reached into his coat pocket.
Pulled out a white handkerchief and began wiping the blood from his fingers and face.
His steps echoed in the abandoned hall—like hammers striking steel.
Each step poured death and dominance into the air.
He stopped in front of Vantias.
His smile faint, but his tone warm and dangerous:
"To be honest… you've caught my eye since the beginning.
There's something in you… something I rarely see in others."
He leaned in slightly.
Lowered his voice—a soft whisper, like a devil's temptation:
"A tired soul…
in a foreign body…"
Vantias, his face drained of life, looked at the demon with empty eyes.
His voice was hoarse, distant, like an echo from the depths of a well:
"What do you want from me?
You've already taken everything."
The demon chuckled—not from joy,
but with a mocking amusement.
His smile, like a blade—soft, yet poisonous.
"Me? I've taken almost nothing from you.
I wasn't the one who killed your friend.
All this time, you were the ones who attacked me… not the other way around."
He stepped closer.
Still using the now-bloody handkerchief, he bent and picked up Sylphy's dagger from the floor.
He delicately wiped the blood off the blade—not to clean it,
but to symbolize what was coming.
Then, without a word, he placed the dagger into Vantias's hands.
With respect? No.
With a kind of mockery… like handing the weapon of murder to the killer himself.
Vantias's hands grew heavy.
The dagger was warm and damp, as if it were still alive.
But something inside it… something inside him…
screamed:
"No… not this path…"
His eyes trembled.
His heart collapsed.
"What do you want me to do…?"
His voice shook.
For the first time, fear bled through his words.
The demon smiled.
Stood up calmly,
adjusted his coat,
and said:
"It's simple…
I want you to choose."
Vantias's eyes narrowed.
His nose flared with shallow breaths.
"Choose what…?"
The demon stepped closer.
His eyes sparkled.
Excitement shivered through his body—like a hunter ready to deliver the final blow.
"Choose, Vantias.
Do you save your friends' lives?
Or your sister's?
One must be sacrificed."
Silence.
No breath, no moan, no footsteps.
It was as if the world had paused.
The dagger in Vantias's hands began to tremble.
As if it, too, didn't want to choose.
His hands turned cold.
His eyes landed on Anna—unconscious, unstable, weak.
Then to Daggerol… William… Sylphy—bloody, broken, but still alive.
His mouth hung open, and he whispered:
"You want me to take the lives of the people I care about… with my own hands?"
The demon, as if the question amused him, whispered a single word:
"Yes."
In the heavy silence of that moment,
a familiar voice echoed inside his head.
It stole his breath.
Not the demon's voice. Not anyone else's.
It was… his darker self.
"There's no need to think… It's time to take the chance.
Kill your teammates and escape with your sister…"
Vantias didn't blink.
His lips didn't tremble.
But inside… he was shaking.
"No…"
He responded silently, in his heart.
"There are no guarantees… He just wants to play with his prey.
Give them a sense of hope… then crush it.
That's what I understand… That's what he enjoys."
The demon didn't break eye contact.
Smiling, watching the internal war rage inside Vantias.
A spark of pleasure in his eyes—like a wolf expecting its prey to give up.
And just then,
Sylphy's voice pierced the air.
"Please! Save me, Vantias!
I swear I'll do anything you want… just… just save me!"
Her voice was raw, desperate, full of pleading.
No more collapse—only pure, naked fear.
The demon smiled.
A calm smile, but laced with poison.
He said:
"Well? What do you think, Vantias?
Your friends… or your sister?"
Everything froze.
Breaths hung in the air like frost.
Time stretched…
Vantias looked at Anna—collapsed on the ground, unconscious, weak, but still his sister.
Then at Sylphy, William, Daggerol—each one broken, but alive.
And finally, at the dagger in his hand.
As if it was him…
both the blade and the sacrifice.
Then, slowly, he looked the demon in the eye.
His voice, hoarse but steady:
"So I have to sacrifice someone?"
He paused.
Inhaled deeply.
"What guarantee do I have that you won't break your word?"
The demon, now more serious, slowly lowered his head, looked him in the eye,
and said:
"I swear…
in the name of the Destroyer God…
that the moment you choose,
my vow will hold.
I won't kill you.
Nor your companions—
even after you leave here.
It will be as if nothing ever happened between us."
Silence…
Heavier than death.
The demon stood like a judge in a courtroom of doom.
The dagger trembled in Vantias's grip.
And in his gaze, something shattered…
or perhaps… awakened.
Vantias didn't look away from the demon.
The dagger no longer felt heavy—
It felt… light.
Like a decision, finally made, after a thousand deaths of the mind.
Without a word,
he raised the dagger—
and with all his strength, drove it into his own chest.
The blade cracked bone, tore flesh,
and in the heart of the darkness,
the sound of steel sinking into flesh
rang like a death bell.
Blood, warm and black, streamed from his body.
It dripped to the ground…
No—
it poured.
A river.
A river of decision. A river of ending.
Vantias didn't blink.
He simply thought:
"Ah… it hurts… it hurts... it's like I'm melting from the inside."
His soft breaths merged with the sound of his collapsing heart.
The demon, for the first time… lost his breath.
Surprise washed over his face.
His smile faded.
His eyes widened slightly.
Vantias let himself fall backward.
He looked up at the cold, stone ceiling.
Raised his bloody hand, stared at it.
"I thought maybe… maybe this life could offer a second chance…
But it was just a false hope."
A strangled scream rose from Sylphy's throat.
She couldn't cry.
She was frozen.
William, barely seeing, crawled toward Vantias—
desperate to save him…
desperate not to be too late.
Daggerol?
He just stood there.
Motionless.
Eyes dry of all hope.
Vantias coughed up blood.
The last surge of life trying to escape.
He smiled.
Slowly turned his eyes to the demon.
And in utter calm, mouthed:
"???"
The sound was strange—heard only in the demon's mind.
Not like speech. Not like a scream.
Like a judgment.
The demon's face cracked—
Something between shock, fury, and fear…
Not fear of Vantias's death—
But of a loss he hadn't seen coming.
A victory stolen…
before the game was ever finished.