At the words of their jailer, a heavy silence settled in.
No one argued or protested these words.
Not even the one who had first talked about it.
Why, despite knowing that he was being taken advantage of, hadn't Gil gone to the authorities for help?
Because they wouldn't have helped.
They never did... unless they had something to gain by doing so.
He had thought that perhaps it was because his city was too remote.
Perhaps in other places, it was different.
But now... looking at the grim faces of the people around him, he knew.
They expected no rescue.
As the jailer said, those here didn't matter to them.
Thinking so, he let out a breath and focused on something else.
The jailer had said that every time, that joke never failed to bend him in two. If his words were to be believed, it wasn't the first time he had handled this situation and the responses of his captives. And they still hadn't been caught.
Either they were too good to get caught (which was possible, considering Hector's and this man's strange prowess), or...
Not wanting to think further, he lifted his head to look at the man.
"Well, you have eight hours before your test. I would catch some sleep; perhaps it will be your last. If you are hun—"
He was cut short by a bellow.
"Shut your trap! I dare you to come down here and take me on!"
The voice came from near Gil, to his left. A tall and bulky guy stood there, spitting saliva as he shouted.
"You stay up there acting all high and mighty, but I bet you're just afraid you can't handle us all!" He continued, this time trying to rally people to his side.
Some observed silently.
Some were swayed by his words.
Gil wasn't.
In Gil's mind, however, the alarm bells went off, sounding louder than ever before—even more than during his fight with Hector.
His body acted before his mind could process, and he threw himself as far as he could from the reckless man.
A breath after he was gone—
Boom.
The pressure from earlier came back, heavier and deadlier. With the man as the center, everything within five meters was crushed.
The man?
Gone, without a scream or a struggle.
Leaving behind nothing more than a mass of tangled flesh and bones.
It was difficult to associate it with the living, breathing being who had been there just moments before.
At this sight, those below felt sick. Some threw up, others trembled all over, but all retreated as far as they could.
Gil had just stood up when he saw what was left of the man and suppressed a shiver.
If I had hesitated... no, if I had just paused to think, I would have...
He gritted his teeth.
"Hmm?" The man tilted his head and seemed to look in his direction for an instant, making Gil's heart skip a beat before the man retracted his attention.
"Quiet," he repeated.
Though this time it wasn't followed by the same fearsome pressure, nobody dared to speak or move again.
Some even muffled themselves, not trusting themselves to remain silent.
"Don't you know it's rude to interrupt when people are talking? Where was I ? Oh yes—if you are hungry, well, tough it up, because there will only be food for you after tomorrow's test."
He paused, musing for a bit, then said, "I seem to have forgotten something... Hmm, what was it again?"
Their jailer seemed to be the forgetful kind, Gil and some others couldn't help but mock in their minds.
"Oh, right! Which one of you is Gil?"
Confusion and curiosity spread through the crowd.
The captives looked around, searching: who was Gil, and why had their jailer singled him out? After all, their mysterious captor hadn't shown much interest in anyone there until then.
Gil, though, would have happily done without the attention.
He paused for a second, then exhaled. Well, he was in it now and couldn't escape, so he steeled himself, stepped forward, and said:
"Me."
Immediately, he could feel the gazes of everyone converging on him.
Their jailer looked him up and down.
Then, shaking his head, he spoke:
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. So, you're the one Hector has been talking about?"
Hearing that, Gil's face darkened, and he gritted his teeth hard.
Damn you, Hector!
Of course—who else could it have been?
Seemingly amused by his expression, the man added: "Well, I was wondering what was so special about you, but..." He looked at the remains of the unfortunate guy and said, "I think I get it now."
A low chuckle followed. "I am looking forward to your performance tomorrow."
After a pause, he added: "And... I won't be the only one. Good luck, little one."
With that, he turned and walked away.
With a snap, the lights went off, plunging the hall back into the earlier darkness.
In the dark, the captives began to whisper among themselves, anxious about their situation and the "Test" of tomorrow.
That bastard Hector... what did he do?!
Gil fumed in his mind.
Walking blindly toward a corner far from the crowd, he sat down with his back against the wall.
He needed time to think.
No matter what tomorrow's test would be, he was sure of one thing: it would be perilous.
Looking toward the corpse of the rash captive, he corrected himself—he could bet it would be deadly.
To make things worse, Hector had told others about him.
Gil would have to handle the test while under the scrutiny of Hector and his crew. He sighed and looked toward the ceiling, but with no light, he couldn't even discern it.
I wonder if El is okay.
Did he find my things? he thought distractedly.
He didn't know where he was, or when he would be back—if he even could go back.
Snapping out of these thoughts, he began to prepare for tomorrow. His body was aching, but it felt better than it had right after the fight with Hector.
Did they treat us?
he wondered, surprised. But it made sense; they wanted to test them, not slaughter them—they could have done that easily enough already.
Setting that aside, he knew he would need all the help he could find for tomorrow, especially if he had to face Hector and his crew again.
Looking back at their fight, the reason he had almost landed a hit on the man was... because of "that."
Taking a deep breath, he decided to do what he had always avoided.
It was time to find out what was wrong with him.