15. Spare or Sacrifice

“One…”

“Two…”

“Three…”

“SPARE!!”

The desperate plea left Edward's lips at the exact same millisecond a cold, sharp command sliced through the air from beside him:

“SACRIFICE !!”

Bang… bang… bang!

“AHHHHH!!!!!!!!”

Edward’s voice, thick with unadulterated agony, tore through the confines of the cellar. The rest of the abductees were jolted awake by the raw horror of his scream, their eyes snapping to where Edward had collapsed violently onto his knees. He clutched his thigh with desperation, dark blood already oozing out like a ruptured river, pooling rapidly across the cold stone floor.

His face was ghostly pale, contorted in a devastating mixture of physical torture and utter betrayal. From the sheer rage tightening his jaw, it was clear he wanted to unleash his fury on Violet—but the hot torment of the bullet wounds wouldn't even allow him to speak. Quin, Kai, and Stuart stood entirely paralyzed, their expressions were a painful mix of profound sympathy and absolute helplessness.

Soya instinctively twitched forward, desperate to rush to his side and stem the bleeding, but Betheny’s hand shot out, firmly anchoring her back. Soya opened her mouth to angrily retort, but the words died in her throat. From the periphery of her vision, a swift silhouette broke away from the line, rushing directly toward Edward as he lay wailing in pain on the floor.

Soya whipped her head around to see who it was.

It was May.

May dropped to her knees right beside Edward. She had seen this much blood once before, on the night her brother had been brutally stabbed by a drunken guard who had mistaken him for a highway robber. Without wasting a single second, she pinched the fabric at the bottom of her gown to create a small tear. Then, using her full strength, she yanked the cloth apart.

Rrrrrip……

The lower portion of her gown tore away cleanly, exposing her legs up to her knees. Clutching the makeshift bandage, she locked her eyes onto Edward’s mangled thigh.

He was breathing heavily, a thick sheen of sweat coating his pale, twisted features as he ground his teeth together. He kept trying to press down on the wound himself, but the blood was easily spilling past his fingers; his frantic attempts to halt the flow were completely useless.

May took one look at the wound and shouted, “Someone!! Give me another piece of cloth!”

Without waiting for a response, she folded her torn cloth into a thick square, layering it over itself until it was three to four times thicker than a single layer of gown fabric.

“Move your hands! And spread your legs—don’t keep them folded!” she ordered sharply.

Edward couldn't muster a single word. He forced his legs apart, shifting his thigh from an acute angle until it lay flat and parallel against the ground.

“Argh!” he let out a weak, guttural grunt of pain.

May slammed the thick, layered pad directly onto the source of the bleeding, applying the full weight of her upper body.

Over in the line, Soya violently wrenched her arm free from Betheny’s grip. Tearing a large strip from the hem of her own gown as she ran, she sprinted toward May and Edward. She brushed right past Violet, throwing a sharp side-glance at her. Violet’s face remained entirely hollow, completely devoid of any expression.

It was as if absolutely nothing had happened.

Grit-toothed, Soya dropped beside May and swiftly handed over the fabric.

“Thanks,” May muttered. Without breaking her right hand's heavy pressure on Edward's thigh, she grabbed the strip with her left. Working with frantic speed, she wrapped Soya's cloth directly over the blood-soaked pad, circling it tightly around Edward's thigh three times before tying it off with a firm, brutal knot.

The blue fabric instantly turned a deep, heavy crimson as it absorbed the fluid, but the rapid flow finally ceased. The bleeding had completely stopped.

“Phew…” May let out a long, ragged sigh of relief.

“Th… thanks…” Edward managed to wheeze out, his voice incredibly frail as he tried to express his gratitude.

A few silent seconds passed. Seeing that May was too focused on holding the knot to reply, Soya leaned in and softly answered for her, “No worries.”

Watching this intensely dramatic scene unfold, Gomut interrupted, his voice dripping with a theatrical, mocking warmth. It completely betrayed his previous emotionless demeanour and the monstrous cruelty he had displayed while burning Heath alive just minutes ago. He sounded like an entirely different person.

“Well, well, well, it’s so heart-touching. I must admit, I was…” Gomut slowly rose from his wooden chair, leaving Gen and Dan standing a step behind him, “…not expecting that outcome.”

Gomut looked down at Edward, who was trembling in pain, and smirked. “All women are bitches, soldier.” He then shifted his gaze to May, adding with a shrug, “Well, not everyone, I guess. Some are just incredibly dumb.”

Gomut sauntered over to Violet, his voice flattening back into a monotone chill. “Well done. Since you have entertained us sufficiently, you may rest for now.”

Suddenly, he turned back to the entire lineup of captives and shouted at the top of his lungs, “Let’s play a game, everyone! This time, the three of us and three of you will be actively participating!”

The basement fell into an appalled, suffocating silence. For Kai, Stuart, and Quin, the horrific imagery of their friend being turned to ash was still burning in their minds, now coupled with the fresh echoes of Edward's agonizing screams. Soya and Betheny trembled violently, completely terrified of what nightmare was coming next.

May kept her head bowed deeply toward the floor, masking her expression entirely from view. Violet stood perfectly still, refusing to speak, her face masked in a completely detached, fed-up blankness.

Edward had barely recovered from the initial shock of the bullet wounds, only to find himself immediately dumped into another one of Gomut's twisted forms of entertainment.

Even Gen was visibly frustrated; he didn't care about a game. He just wanted to beat Violet until her face resembled a smashed peach, and castrate Edward so the soldier would live out the rest of his miserable days in agony. Dan simply stood by, completely indifferent to it all.

Recognizing that the madness was going to continue regardless, Stuart mustered every ounce of his remaining courage and stepped forward, addressing Gomut. “Sir! May I ask for the name of the game and its rules?”

Gomut offered a wide, pleasant smile. “You may!”

Hearing the warlord's surprisingly light tone, Stuart relaxed his shoulders a fraction. “Sir! What is it?”

Gomut cleared his throat with a sharp, performative cough, his face instantly locking back into an emotionless stare. “Ahem! …It’s called Truth and Dare.”

Hearing the familiar name, a collective wave of mild relief washed over the captives—they all knew the childhood game. But a second later, the reality of their situation crashed down on them. A regular game of Truth and Dare was fine, but a dare commanded by these armed captors? They couldn't even begin to comprehend what the guards would force them to do.

The absolute worst possibilities immediately flooded everyone’s minds. Forced intimacy? Being ordered to shoot a friend? Being forced to kill someone? Execution? Every unimaginable, indecent, and terrifying thought raced through their heads.

But not a single soul dared to interrupt Gomut. They were completely terrified that if they angered the madman, he would simply spew literal fire and burn them all to ash right where they stood.