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CHAPTER 51 : What happened here
Fai and Johnson lay down, utterly depleted after their arduous fight.
The battle against Keal group had been anything but easy, yet ultimately, against all odds they had emerged victorious. Now, under the serene glow of the moon, they rested, side by side, deep in slumber.
However, their well-deserved peace was fleeting.
From the labyrinth's shadowed depths, the distinct sound of approaching footsteps echoed, growing louder with each passing second.
It wasn't the solitary tread of one person, but the rhythmic cadence of multiple individuals, advancing with an undeniable urgency.
Unfortunately, Fai and Johnson, utterly exhausted from their recent ordeal, had drifted into a profound sleep right in the heart of the maze.
The awareness of their surroundings had dwindled to almost nothing. The insistent rhythm of the footsteps continued to intensify until, finally, three figures materialized from the encompassing darkness.
"And what makes you think we haven't been here before?" a voice, tinged with frustration, cut through the night's stillness.
"My instincts," another calmly retorted.
"Yeah, right! The same instincts that led us back to the starting hall three times in a row?!" The frustration in the voice was unmistakable.
"That's because you kept trying to contradict me, and it only distracts me," the remarkably composed voice interjected.
"What?! So, you're saying it's my fault?" The first voice bristled with indignation.
"I didn't say that, but thanks for making it clear," the calm voice responded, its placid tone only serving to deepen the other's anger, causing their face to flush crimson.
At the forefront of this duo walked a male figure with distinctive black, spiky hair. He was notably taller than the two girls accompanying him, though not quite matching the towering stature of Leo.
The girls, on the other hand, were of relatively similar height, with only a marginal difference of a few inches separating them.
One possessed flowing blonde hair, while the other sported short, brown locks.
The blonde-haired girl was the source of the calm, unwavering voice, whereas her brown-haired companion was the one who had been vocalizing her complaints throughout their journey.
For quite some time, the brown-haired girl had been suggesting various passages she genuinely believed would be most effective for the group.
Yet, the boy at the front consistently dismissed her input. He would only ever consider the advice offered by the blonde-haired girl, and she knew precisely why.
'I always knew boys could be dense, but this? He's literally hanging on her every word just because she's pretty,' the brown-haired girl fumed inwardly, her frustration reaching a boiling point.
The girl with the blonde hair was named Amy, and her striking blue eyes were further pointed out by her radiant blonde hair that swept down, which undeniably enhanced the inherent prettiness of her face.
At sixteen years old, the subtle yet undeniable artistry of puberty was evident in her physique; her curves were perfectly proportioned – not overly pronounced, yet adequately developed in all the right places.
She was keenly aware of her own captivating beauty and, understanding the predictable nature of boys, she knew that merely by wielding her charm, she could effortlessly manipulate them to her will.
Indeed, this was precisely what she was doing now: using her allure to assert a quiet dominance over the group.
Claire, the girl with the brown hair, found herself instinctively scrutinizing her own appearance, a subconscious act of comparison with Amy.
'Okay, I'll admit, she definitely has more meat in certain areas than I do,' she conceded silently, her gaze momentarily drifting to a particular part of her body.
'But that doesn't mean I'm not pretty too, right? I mean, beauty comes from within, doesn't it?' she attempted to console herself.
However, the self-reassurance offered little comfort, for she was keenly aware that, in these modern times, superficial appearances often overshadowed inner qualities, especially in the eyes of most boys.
As Claire, Amy, and Liam continued their trek through the intricate pathways of the maze, their heated exchanges punctuated the otherwise silent night.
This until an abrupt halt brought them face-to-face with a scene that commanded their immediate attention.
Before them lay a gruesome tableau: bodies scattered all around, vast craters scarring the ground, fresh blood, and even saliva that had yet to fully dry, all of this could be seen all over.
"What the hell happened here?" Claire gasped, her voice a mixture of astonishment and morbid curiosity as she surveyed the shocking sight.
"A battle between two groups," Amy, ever the detached observer, declared.
"Of course, I know that! I might not have great instincts, but I'm not blind. It's obvious a battle took place.
What I mean is... shhh, never mind." Claire trailed off, realizing the futility of further explanation and, more importantly, desiring to avoid another argument with Amy.
The air around them had thickened, becoming palpably serious and dangerous. Engaging in another petty squabble now would be utterly counterproductive.
"From the way the bodies are scattered, it almost looks like they were completely overwhelmed by a single individual," Liam mused, his gaze sweeping across the grim battlefield.
He was attempting to piece together the events that had transpired, and this was the conclusion his observations led him to.
"I mean, look at them – they're everywhere. It's clear this group of six was likely weak, and they probably ganged up on their opponent, thinking they'd have the advantage."
Liam was merely speculating, of course. He possessed no supernatural ability to glimpse into the past. He was simply trying to construct the most logical scenario within his own mind.
To him, it made the most sense that all the fallen individuals belonged to the same faction, and their defeat stemmed from their overestimation of their own capabilities – in essence, biting off more than they could chew.
And while his reasoning held a certain logic, it was, in fact, not the actual truth. Nevertheless, it was the most plausible explanation he could conjure.
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