It was as if a spell had been cast on the entire arena.
All eyes were fixed on the figure on the screen, his face completely mangled, marred by deep cuts and missing key features like his nose and ears.
He looked like a monster.
A terrifying monster that made one unable to sleep at night.
And yet, despite his current state, the figure remained completely calm as his voice traveled across the surroundings.
—...You... get ready. Sacrifice... what you must. Keep conscious.
—H-huh...? W-what do you mean...?
—I mean... what I mean.
He was supposed to be the epitome of luck.
A person who had appeared in the right place at the right time.
Someone who was never meant to be a Paragon.
But—
—Spurt...!
It became increasingly clear as the videos continued that this was the furthest thing from the truth. As the video progressed, people witnessed his madness. The video continued to flash, gruesome scenes appearing for all to see.
Drake and Esteban were also subjected to such things.
But they weren’t as extreme as him.
He... took things to an extreme level, and as the situation progressed, some couldn’t help but turn his way. He stood in silence, his dark eyes fixed on the distant monitor.
There was no trace of emotion.
In fact, it was even hard to read his expression.
He just stared at what was happening as though this was the first time for him, seemingly completely oblivious to the numerous gazes directed his way.
—Day... 143. I think I get... it. I think I have gotten a grasp on... what I need to do. This place... it.. it’s... What was I talking about? W-what am I doing? I’m thirsty.
—165. Thirsty. Hungry. Thirsty. Hungry. Sleepy. Sleepy. Thirsty. Hungry. Sleepy. Pain. Hate it. I...
—I... I’m going crazy. It’s hard to fight the urges. The... more I sacrifice, the crazier I become... I don’t recall the last time I felt normal. How... long can I keep my sanity for? How long... can I keep my identity for?
As his hoarse voice whispered throughout the stadium, the air seemed to change.
The audience hadn’t been clear because everything had been going fast, but with his voice echoing in the air, the faces of many changed.
"Wait, w-what did he say?"
"One hundred days...?"
"Surely not, right?"
"He must’ve gone mad and lost track of time. Surely he... didn’t do this for so long."
"But didn’t that previous group say they’ve been there for a decade?"
The silence that followed felt even more suffocating as they watched Seth slowly rise to his feet. Even that simple movement seemed painfully difficult, his body staggering, yet as if driven by something unseen, he forced himself onward, dragging his steps toward the castle corridor.
"No, what is he doing...?"
"W-why is he leaving?"
By now, the audience had been so absorbed by what they were seeing that they had completely forgotten about the fact that Seth was now doing fine.
Staring at the monitor, many clenched their hands.
Especially when—
Thump!
Seth stumbled forward, his body barely keeping up with him.
"Ah!"
"...No!"
—How pitiful.
Things grew even more tense when a certain voice whispered.
—You look really pitiful at the moment. Is it really worth it? Torturing yourself to this point? For what reason?
Although calm, something about the voice made the hearts of many shiver.
It wasn’t their first time hearing it, but each time it sounded, it was as if something within their hearts tickled, prompting them to want to listen to the voice.
This made many question themselves...
If this was what they felt through a recording, just how terrifying was it in real life?
—You could’ve chosen the easy way out. You could’ve eaten all the food you wanted, drunk all the water you desired, and slept in the finest beds you’ll ever lie on. Instead, you struggled for hundreds of days... for what? What exactly did you struggle for?
The voice continued to echo throughout the arena, bringing a certain silence as everyone just looked.
Although no one said a thing, they all wanted to know the same thing.
Why?
Why was he still struggling?
—But in the end... You were just struggling out of stubbornness.
Yes, it was stubbornness.
It had to be that.
Otherwise, why would he persist?
—You struggled not because you didn’t want to die or anything like that. The reason you refused to die was simply that you’re stubborn. That’s all. You’re nothing special. You’re just... like everyone else. A more pitiful version of them.
Everyone seemed to subconsciously nod.
Was it because of the voice, or was it because they also shared the same sentiment?
Nobody knew. Not even the audience.
Why would anyone put themselves through all of this torture if it wasn’t stubbornness? Many of them would have long given up.
There was no need for him to do this.
There was simply no—
—Ha... ha.
A short, yet hoarse laugh shattered the thoughts of many as eyes started to widen.
This hadn’t been the first time he had laughed.
But listening to his current laugh, something felt different as he slowly raised his head to look at the figure no one could see.
—I... want to...
When his voice came out, as broken as it was, everyone paid attention.
The only thing that one could hear was his voice as many strained their ears to listen.
You want...? Want wha—
—...Make you bow.
"...."
"...."
The air appeared to shift in that moment.
All of a sudden, it felt incredibly suffocating. As though someone had stripped all oxygen from the air.
Many found themselves struggling to breathe.
And yet, none looked away.
They all stared at the screen.
—I want to know... how it feels...
At what was unfolding before their very eyes.
—...to step on a King.
The madness.
—Ha... ha...
And as his laugh escaped once more, shivers began to run down the bodies of all those present. This didn’t just include the audience, but the Paragons and competitors that stood at the bottom of the stage as they all turned their attention towards the figure responsible for all of this.
With a calm look, he accepted the stares.
He accepted everything while his laugh grew more and more unrestrained inside the footage.
—Hahaha... Ha!
The more he laughed, the greater the shivers everyone felt.
Such shivers only grew with time as his voice eventually reached their ears once more.
—H-haha. With my eye clear, I can see... through the illusions. I can see through the fakery of this place. B-but despite that, I can’t see you.
Nobody could see him.
In that moment, the minds of a few rattled as they suddenly thought of something.
This was especially clear for some of the sharper-minded Paragons, who had a sudden understanding.
—Your name. I... know your name.
A hysterical laugh reverberated once more.
However, nobody dared to say anything, as though nobody could see the face of the figure standing in front of Seth; they could see the subtle shift in his expression.
Did he figure something out?
What did he figure out...?
"Ah!"
Suddenly, one of the audience members shouted.
"That’s...! The key to getting out of this place is likely finding out the identity of the person standing in front of him!"
"c—!"
The eyes of many widened.
"Right! How could I not have thought about it!?"
"Since he takes identities, what happens if you give him his identity back?!2
"That’s...!"
Things unfolded just as the others predicted.
Seth opened his mouth while trying to shout the name of the person standing before him.
However...
Each time he tried, he’d be blocked.
— Know your place.
The place rattled.
—Rattle! Rattle!
Things grew progressively more unrestrained as Seth tried his best to say his name, with many of the audience members on the edge of their seats.
Say it! Say it!
And yet, despite all of this, Seth was never able to say his name.
He seemed to get closer and closer to it, and just as he was about to say his name, his entire body was thrown back.
That also appeared to be the moment when Seth seemed to have lost sight of the situation.
"Akh!"
"No...!"
Screams followed.
The audience was fully invested.
"Shit!"
"How the hell can he beat that thing? It’s impossible! It’s...!"
The sound of a step filled the place.
Once more, the noise ceased.
Drake and Esteban’s figures appeared. Both didn’t look great, and the way they looked at Seth was complicated, containing both fear and apprehension.
—D-do it.
And yet, the moment he spoke, they obeyed.
The angle shifted.
It shifted to Esteban’s camera as he stabbed down at his leg, blood spurting in all directions.
——!
Realization dawned on the audience.
He...!
—RATTLE! RATTLE!
The place rattled even more fiercely as the voice grew more alarmed.
—Stop it!
But Esteban and Drake didn’t stop.
—You do not understand what you are doing. Stop this at once!
The panic in the voice was clear.
It boomed across the entire arena. And yet, they didn’t stop.
No, Esteban did at some point as he looked at Seth.
That was also the very moment everyone saw it.
The twisted and maddening smile that lingered upon his lips as he stared at the figure ahead.
His eyes were bloodshot, and yet they were wide open.
Then—!
—Spurt!
Drake’s knife came cleaving down his neck, severing his head.
Nobody screamed.
Nobody made a sound.
No...
Nobody could make a sound as they stared at Drake’s figure on the screen as he grabbed Seth’s severed head, blood dripping down onto the ground.
The noise was completely stripped from the stadium.
Be in the recording, or across the entire place.
There was no sound.
In that moment, it was as if the hearts of all those present had synced.
Ba... Thump! Ba... Thump!
They watched as Drake’s figure slowly moved towards the blank figure standing in front of him before eventually taking a knee and presenting the head towards him.
Besides the soft dripping of the blood coming from Seth’s head, there was no other sound.
And yet—
It was almost as if they could hear the words inside his mind.
I... offer you my everything.
My eyes. My arms. My legs. My heart. My body.
And finally—
My head.
To you, who is King Paimon.
That day, everyone got to witness it.
The true twisted nature that hid within Seth.
The madness.