"Your Excellency Salome is truly brilliant! They took the fake, just as you predicted," the adjutant gushed, his tone thick with flattery.
"I'm asking about the other matter."
Salome swung his legs off the desk, spinning his chair around to face the adjutant—no trace of warmth in his expression. His massive frame and cold stare made the adjutant's heart quiver.
"Of course! It's all settled!" The adjutant kept his sycophantic smile, glancing at the timer on his wrist. "If nothing goes wrong, they should be finalizing the deal with Ralph right now—on their way back."
"Ha! Thinking they could steal such a treasure? Not a chance."
Salome took a deep drag from the smoking pipe in his hand. He lifted a small object strung on a silver chain, swinging it before his eyes. "Fools. This alone would make us rich. Ralph, betraying Blair, trying to play both sides? Hmph—either way, all they'll get is a fake." He burst into laughter as he finished.
"Your Excellency, this plan was masterful! Such a profitable deal. Who knew that item would be so sought-after—buyers came knocking right away!"
"Indeed! And there's another group coming..."
Just as the two reveled in their triumph, a deafening crash echoed from outside. The room shook violently, and the clanking mechanical pumps fell silent instantly. Before they could react, alarms wailed, and red warning lights flashed frantically.
Soon, the sound of panicked footsteps filled the air—mixed with gunfire and explosions. One by one, the monitors went dark, the blackout spreading like a virus.
A thunderous bang and tremor shook the ceiling above them. The fighting had reached their platform. Through the window, they saw fire erupt from the darkness below—accompanied by screams, violent blasts, and the sharp clang of bullets hitting steel.
Salome leaped from his chair. Next to the adjutant, his enormous figure made the smaller man look like a child.
"Goddamn it! Who's bold enough to attack us here!"
Salome grabbed a handful of bullets from the drawer, snatched a gun off the desk, and charged down the stairs. The battle raged outside, but the moment he reached for the iron door to join the fight, the chaos fell silent—an eerie, suffocating quiet.
"What's going on, Your Excellency?" the adjutant whispered from behind him.
Crack!
The lights overhead went out. The base was plunged into total darkness. Salome held his breath, peering through the dusty window on the iron door—but without light, he saw nothing.
The adjutant cowered behind him, trembling. His shaking hands gave him away instantly.
"Afraid? Go check!"
"What? Me?"
"Now!"
Salome shoved the adjutant forward. The man inched toward the door, pulling a small flashlight from his waist—its beam wavering with his trembling hands.
Bang!
A massive shadow slammed into the other side of the door. The adjutant stumbled backward in shock, and a bestial snarl echoed from outside. Tears welled in his eyes, but a cold gun barrel pressed against the back of his head—Salome's doing. Click. The sound of a bullet being chambered.
Beyond the door lay the platform plaza—pitch-black and silent, a far cry from its usual bustle. Hidden in the darkness were deadly predators, separated from them by nothing but a thin iron door.
The adjutant took a shaky breath, fumbling with the door's lever. The iron door creaked open, releasing a gust of cold, damp air—mixed with the stench of blood and rot. He swept his flashlight across the area: empty, save for drag marks stained with blood on the ground.
He stood frozen for a moment, then took a few small steps forward. No danger.
"Looks like they're gone?"
He turned to shrug at Salome—only to see a flash of claws behind him. Before he could scream, the claws sank into his chest, yanking him into the darkness. His flashlight clattered to the floor and shattered under a heavy foot. A guttural scream echoed through the plaza, followed by the sickening sound of flesh being torn. The air grew so thick with tension, it was hard to breathe.
Salome flipped on the flashlight attached to his shoulder. He took one step forward—then stumbled back, slamming the iron door shut. The door was over twenty centimeters thick, but before he could slide the safety bolt, an enormous force wrenched the door (and him with it) outward.
He crashed to the center of the plaza, the door pinning him briefly.
In the corner where the adjutant had vanished, he saw a glimpse of a creature's legs—bigger than his own massive frame. It growled low in its throat, lunging toward him. But danger wasn't just in front: another shadow pounced from behind. Salome twisted away, firing his gun blindly over his shoulder.
The creature tumbled backward into the dark. Now he was the prey—those monsters watching from the shadows, waiting. When he locked eyes with one in the darkness, a putrid stench hit him, followed by a roar from behind. He spun around—only to find a towering shadow right in front of him.
It slammed into him, pinning him to the ground. The flashlight on his shoulder flickered, obscuring the creature's face, but he felt its claws—sharp and powerful—pierce his shoulders, crushing the light. The more he struggled, the worse the tearing pain got; its claws dug through muscle, scraping bone.
"Goddamn it—!"
By chance, a beam of light slipped through a gap in the creature's grip. He caught a blurred glimpse of it: a beast that looked half-lion, half-giant wolf, its skin rotting away in patches. Its underbelly was covered in insect-like exoskeleton, and its six thick limbs ended in blade-sharp claws—twice Salome's size. He'd never seen such a grotesque creature in his life.
Four of its legs pinned Salome's arms and legs; the other two pressed down on his chest, ready to tear him open.
"Now you know the price of betrayal!"
A voice echoed from the darkness. The sound of hard leather boots clicking against stone grew closer. He made out the shape of a man in a cloak—his boots black, the edges frayed with lint.
The man pushed back his cloak and knelt down. A rugged jaw covered in stubble peeked out from under a smoking pipe; the faint glow of the embers revealed his face. Wisps of smoke curled from his lips as he flicked Salome's forehead, his deep voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Is this all your tiny thief's brain could come up with?"
"Go to hell!"
Salome thrashed in rage, but the tearing pain in his shoulders and the weight on his chest reminded him: struggling was useless. The claws on his chest easily pierced his armor, inching toward his ribs.
The man waved a hand. The creature froze, as if obeying an order.
"Oh? You shouldn't act out like this." He stood up, slamming his boot into Salome's cheek before pressing down on his head. "Ha! You thought you could trick Lord Ralph?" He tossed the fake item onto Salome's face. It hit the ground with a crisp shatter. "Listen—isn't that a lovely sound?"
"Goddamn bastard! If I get the chance, you'll all die!"
The man spat on his face.
"Pah. You'll never get the chance. Think of that fake as a farewell gift."
"Go—die—!"
Salome ignored the pain in his limbs. He tried to reach for his gun, to shoot the man in front of him—but the creature on his chest wouldn't let him.
The man snapped his fingers. The creature pulled its claws from Salome's chest—then swung down, tearing a gaping hole in his torso. Salome clutched his neck in agony, feeling his heart race. He didn't realize the rapid beating was pumping more blood out of his wound.
Scalding liquid poured from his neck, soaking his red leather armor—making it even redder.
"This is what happens to those who betray Lord Ralph!" The man flicked his dying pipe into Salome's bloodied mouth, grinding his boot into Salome's head. "You red-skinned fool? No—you're just a red-skinned thief."
"You...!"
"Ha. Dead men tell no tales."
"T-tell... R-Ralph... I'll... wait for him... in hell!"
The man nodded, indifferent. "Is that so?"
With that, his hand morphed into a sharp blade. He drove it slowly into Salome's chest—then slit upward...
"Waah—!"
Arthur jolted awake, scrambling to his feet, his face ashen with terror. He clawed at his chest—his clothes were soaked through. A suffocating heat wrapped around him, making even his breath feel heavy.
"Finally awake?"
Ralph stood nearby, clutching his left arm. A dried bloodstain ran from his hairline down his forehead. His cold eyes looked even darker in the dim emergency lights; he let out a sigh when he saw Arthur stir.
Arthur lunged forward, grabbing Ralph by the collar. "You're still hiding things, you bastard!"
"Hiding what? Snap out of it, Arthur!" Ralph wrenched his arm free, shoving Arthur away. "Have you lost your mind?"
Arthur glanced around the dim room—emergency lights flashed with warning labels. He suddenly realized he'd had a nightmare, mixing dreams with reality. But it had felt so real—even the pain.
"I passed out?"
Ralph nodded, straightening his crumpled collar and rolling his stiff neck. "Please—what's gotten into you? Encia mentioned you've been like this, but I didn't believe her. Now I see it."
"Your arm's hurt?"
"Don't you remember? When I rolled into you, you kicked me—right here." Ralph jabbed his shoulder angrily, then pushed Arthur's arm. "How long have you been like this? Y'know—this."
"I should've kicked harder!" Arthur sat cross-legged, shaking his head. "Guess you weren't lying. Only Encia and Tinin knew about this."
"I told you—she told me where to find you." Ralph looked helpless, rolling his eyes. "You just wouldn't believe me."