Following those ominous words, the ceiling split in two, revealing another source of light far above.
Klong, klong, klong, klong, klong, klong, klong, klong...
Not long after, accompanied by the muted sounds of gears in action, the ground began to rumble, then started to elevate slowly toward the ceiling.
Startled by this sudden development, the captives broke into a commotion.
Some, surprised by the lifting motion, fell pale to the ground, trying to find anything to clutch or take support from.
Klong, klong, klong...
Some stood there indifferently, looking toward the light source on the other side fearlessly.
Klong, klong, klong...
Others, scared stiff, stood paralyzed or broke into sobs, fearing what was to come.
Klong, klong, klong...
Gil, for his part, sat down cross-legged next to Greg, resting his chin on his palm as he looked around.
With his sight still active, he silently observed his companions in misfortune, and his already tense mood soured further.
Though he had expected some of this after seeing their state earlier, in the few moments since then, the situation had worsened and continued to deteriorate by the second.
Leaving aside the heavy negative feelings he picked up from most of them, the intent of the majority... wasn't looking good.
Some dark intent clouds, as if sufficiently charged, began to pour out, dropping black ink onto those below, making them look gloomier and gloomier. If before they were just ruminating bleak thoughts, now they were so deep in them that the chances of snapping out of it by themselves looked slim to Gil.
Worse still, that ink rain, after battering them, formed small flakes at their feet.
Although for now it didn't look like much and didn't seem to have a major effect, he didn't like where this was going...
Aside from them, the other intents showed some changes too—some good, others bad.
Beginning with the silhouette in red—Gil kept a special eye on this one because it was one of the unique ones he had noted, the last one he had looked at before his backlash, and he still couldn't determine if that pain had been due to overuse or that specific intent...
Now, with better light, he could see that this intent belonged to a young woman, quite beautiful at that, with an Asian appearance, short black hair and eyes, and an athletic build with tanned skin. She sat silently by herself, looking into the air with a blank expression.
But her intent was anything but blank.
Earlier, some shades of gray had begun to taint the red glow around her, but now those shades were gone, and the red glow around her grew into flames, burning quietly but stubbornly.
The contrast between her expression and her intent surprised Gil.
He didn't know what had caused that change, but he was pleasantly surprised, because from those flames, he could tell.
She had not given up.
Without knowing why, that discovery relieved him.
In a better mood, he continued to take in the state of the others as the platform continued its slow ascent.
The one with the two whispering mouths resumed his humming, and as he did so, it seemed to keep the gray spots and clouds at bay, so much so that the intent mouths also resumed their whispering, looking a tad bit cheerful.
The intent's owner was a tall, handsome young man with black hair and bangs covering his eyes, but with his humming, he maintained a sunny disposition.
Then there was the one with the intent looking like an amalgam of symbols, numbers, and letters. Since the beginning of the ascent, the flashing composing his intent had grown slower and slower, its original brown color taking on a more and more rusty hue.
That intent's owner was a young man, fair-skinned with blond hair and brown eyes, carrying a bookish air about him. He had a fairly large following of people toward whom he tried to portray calm and composure, but from time to time, his eyes flashed with unease.
Shaking his head at this sight, Gil looked elsewhere.
He searched for the one with the intent resembling a strange mismatch of matter for a while, and finally found him, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
That one stayed on the ground, his limbs splayed outward, looking more relaxed than many. Taller than most, even Gil, he too kept to himself, possessing a rugged face, messy long red hair, and closed eyes.
What caught Gil's attention was his intent—precisely its reaction to the spots of gray that sometimes appeared on it.
He watched in wonder as every time a part of it was affected...
Riiiip.
That part was ripped off.
The intent grew sometimes a hand, other times a claw or even fangs to rip apart the compromised part, which then faded out in light gray smoke.
How does he do that ?
he wondered, interested, but he couldn't come to a satisfactory answer for now.
Keeping that occurrence in the back of his mind, he continued his survey, this time looking for the one with the stringless puppet intent. It took him a while this time. He remembered that this person was a loner too, so he searched among those who stood apart.
But without success.
Where did he go ?
It took him a moment to find his target, but...
"—!?"
He wasn't so alone anymore.
Who knows when, the man had joined the group of the intent-less girl. Worse still, that group had grown from the initial four members to a dozen more people in the blink of an eye.
Since when ?
Gil wondered, alarmed, his face grim.
Without much basis, he was wary of that girl, and looking at those around her now... his unease only deepened.
He could have sworn that they weren't that many when he looked upon waking up. Calming his racing thoughts, he looked at that group seriously, and the more he looked, the grimmer his expression became.
Because those people... mostly had the exact same intent on them.
A skull.
Was it that those with this intent were more likely to band together, or...
Even the one with the puppet intent had changed. Though he didn't have skulls around him, things weren't looking good for him, at least if the slow darkening of his intent was anything to go by...
Finally, Gil looked at her.
Now with the lights on, he could finally make out what she looked like, and well, he understood better why those people flocked around her.
Even though he was what El called a blockhead, he had to admit that this young woman was a beauty.
If the earlier girl looked a bit tomboyish and her blank expression lacked appeal for most, this one was the complete opposite.
Pale, fair skin, mid-length blonde hair, deep and mesmerizing unusual purple eyes with a hint of vulnerability but determination between her brow—even without makeup, she looked like a little princess, the kind that naturally draws people to her.
No wonder many flocking to her side were men, though there were some girls, they weren't many.
Idiots,
Gil thought in annoyance and
embarrassment, facepalming, thinking of how he had praised those people as different from greenhouse flowers, but now...
Whether those flocking around that one or those breaking down...
Granted, their situation isn't looking good.
Still, what surprised Gil was that even someone like her got caught—not to say that pretty ones should be spared, but with her striking looks, her disappearance was bound to be more noticeable than others, no ?
And she didn't really fit the targeted profile of those people.
Not looking further in that direction to avoid getting caught staring again, he deactivated his sight.
Another backlash now would be disastrous.
Looking at his partner again, though Greg still looked lost, at least he was in better shape than earlier.
Looking up and seeing they were still some distance from the light, Gil decided to talk a bit with him.
"So Greg, where are the ones you're teaming up with?" he asked, trying to distract him from his thoughts.
Who could have thought ?
Hearing about teammates, Greg grew even more despondent, his head hanging low.
"What now?" Gil asked, frowning, thinking,
Why is everything so troublesome with this guy ?
Keeping his head low, Greg responded, "They... they decided to join another group."
"And why didn't you go with them? Did they exclude you or something?" Gil asked, puzzled.
"No, that's not it, it's just that..." He struggled to explain.
"Just what?"
"I... I don't know why, I got uneasy in that group.
I tried to explain to them, but they wouldn't listen, so... we parted ways."
Hearing that, all annoyance vanished from Gil, replaced by alertness.
He asked, "Which group?"
Looking up and seeing that Gil was taking him seriously, Greg pointed in a direction.
"That one, with the really pretty girl with blonde hair and purple eyes," he said, blushing a bit as he spoke.
But Gil didn't mock him for it.
Instead, he looked at Greg as if seeing him for the first time.
Who would have thought? He felt something off too.
"Keep your distance from them in the future," Gil said warningly.
Seemingly catching onto something, Greg's face shifted slightly and he nodded.
Continuing, Gil asked, "Why not try another group then?"
After all, there was more than one group forming around them, and it should be easy for Greg to join one.
"I don't know, I—no, it just doesn't feel right," he said, seemingly unsure himself.
Gil looked at him and thought,
There is indeed more to him than meets the eye.
Well, since we are already tied together...
"Well then, let's—" Gil began, but cut himself off mid-sentence.
It wasn't that he had changed his mind, but because of something else.
Voices.
But not the whispers coming from his companions in misfortune, nor was it from the jailer.
Rather, they were familiar ones.
Well, calling them familiar was a stretch, since he had only heard them once.
He had almost thought he had dreamed those voices.
That's right, the voices he had heard before waking were back.
More than that, they were becoming louder by the second. They were still as chaotic as the first time he had heard them.
As the volume of the noise grew, he couldn't help but grimace.
Looking at the puzzled face of Greg, and around at the other captives who were looking normal, he knew.
They don't hear them.
Giving a look to Greg, he discreetly blocked his ears with his palms, but in vain; the voices seemed to reach him regardless.
He didn't even manage to process this phenomenon before another one took place.
This time, a faint smell permeated the air, filling his mouth with a stringent, coppery taste.
Blood.
He tasted and smelled blood without seeing a single drop around—wait, blood?
He remembered now. Yesterday, he had seen using his sight that the ceiling looked as if it were painted red with blood. Adding to that, those events had begun once he was in the corridor beyond that ceiling...
A shiver ran down Gil's spine, and goosebumps appeared on his skin.
I don't like where this is going at all.
Even without wanting to, he began to connect the clues together.
From the first time he heard the voices, the ominous color of the ceiling serving as a door, their reappearance now, and finally, what or rather who they belonged to...
He was almost sure of his guess now, and he could just trigger his sight to confirm it himself.
But... he was reluctant to.
Gil took a shuddering breath and looked at his trembling hands.
No, it was more exact to say that he was afraid to.
There were things he was afraid of, too.
Looking at Greg, who despite not knowing what was going on looked at him with concern, Gil flashed him a strained smile, thanking him for his worry.
Looking at him and the other oblivious ones, for the first time in years, he felt envious.
He envied their obliviousness.
How great would it be to be in the dark too, to not be able to feel what he felt now ?
Now... he couldn't even play dumb if he wanted to.
The voices drilling into his ears, the scent assaulting his nose and mouth would not let him.
He exhaled, looking at the now near exit of the corridor.
"H-hey Gil, you're scaring me. Are you sure you're okay?"
Without looking at Greg, Gil responded honestly, "No, I'm not."
"Huh?"
Surprised by the unexpectedly honest response, Greg looked even more worried.
I thought he would brush me off again.
Gil could feel what the other party thought through their link but didn't care. Instead, he stood up, dusted his hands and clothes, and took one last long look at the exit.
He closed his eyes.
And doing so amplified his other senses.
The voices grew and grew further, the taste and smell of blood flooded in, almost numbing him, but his expression didn't change.
Recently, he had been experimenting blindly with this perception ability of his, and even though many points stayed blurry, there was one thing he understood.
To use it...
I must think less and feel more.
So he did just that, forgetting Greg, the others, the test, Hector, and everything else.
And he felt—listening to the voices, tasting the flavor and smelling the scent they brought with them, and...
See what they want to show me.
Klang, klang, klong, klaaaang.
The platform stopped, having arrived at its destination, and Gil opened his eyes.