"I fucking hate this place." I spat out between huffed breaths. My companion gave me a peek from the corner of her eye but didn't say anything, or more precisely, couldn't say anything.

Droplets of sweat were all over her deathly pale face, her hazy eyes were halfway closed, and her lips were colorless and dry. Even speaking is proving to be an arduous task in her sickly condition, with a hunched posture, one hand on the corridor's wall, the other on the rifle, using it to hobble.

I doubt my words even registered with her.

Not long after we started our path, a little over twenty minutes later, the drug's other symptoms began to manifest, resulting in a feverish and zombie-like state.

I clicked my tongue. The military woman can hardly stay awake; the fact that she is standing and even moving her legs is only made possible by her inhuman will.

Seeing her like that pisses me off. It pisses me off more than the three passages in front of me.

Another fucking crossroad.

Needless to say, we went in the direction Eric took. But I didn't expect the corridor would end up splitting up, and that has happened more than once.

A part of me was delighted by that. The more directions there are, the farther we will be from the traitorous murderer, while another part of me is restless for answers. Honestly, I don't see why I'm yet to understand the reasons behind his actions.

"Let's go straight." I didn't mull much over it; all three passages are the same anyway. It doesn't matter.

This is a maze, and we are lost in it.

I clicked my tongue once more as I watched Bell hobble after me, putting both hands on the rifle as she limped through the junction, where there was no wall to support her. Indeed, she doesn't understand my words anymore; the silver remaining in her consciousness was anchored on me. I walk, she hobbles, I halt, and she stops and leans on the wall.

As might be expected, our pace is slow—too slow.

... stubborn woman.

For some stupid, delirious reason, she doesn't want my help anymore and keeps pushing me away whenever I draw close to her. I would have carried her on my back otherwise, as I had intended beforehand.

I let out a deep breath, trying to get the budding anger out of my chest. Are we getting close? Or are we getting away? I don't know, but whichever it is, we aren't making much progress at our pace.

As much as I may complain, the irritation overshadows any other negative emotion I may be experiencing at the moment. While my thoughts should be on the danger we could be facing, they are in fact on the headstrong woman behind me.

... which resulted in the irritation spiking even more. What a vicious circle! I swear, when we are out of here, I will strike some sense into that obdurate head of hers.

I hear a thumping sound from behind me right after I round a corner. I turned around only to see Bell on the floor, the rifle at a distance from her. She fell. And what flipped the lid for me was that the damn woman, instead of trying to stand up or, hell, even just staying down would be alright, but no, she is using her arms to crawl.

I kept staring at her, lost for a couple of seconds, before eventually taking the backpack off, rummaging through it, and removing anything I assumed was useful and could be stored in my pocket, like cartridges, water, bondage, and the silver box. I didn't even touch the MRE as I tossed the backpack away. Next, I strapped Svelt, her sniper rifle, to my shoulder, then crouched, took her hands, and turned my back to hop her up.

In a hazy state, consciousness hanging on a threat, and limbs devoid of any strength, yet she is still able to wriggle away. I persisted, but her reaction only intensified. I can't do this; she will only fall from my back if, by chance, was able to get here on.

"Bell," I called her exasperatedly. "I need your help here."

The woman, however, didn't answer, nor did she seem to have heard me. As soon as her hands touched the ground, she started to push herself forward, crawling mindlessly.

Closing my eyes, I attempted to reign in all the fuckeries threatening to burst out. As someone who prides himself on his decent emotional display, all this is vexing.

I felt wronged for no valid reason. A voice yelled in my head, shouting what I had to do and screaming for me to do what was necessary even if it was unpleasant. So unpleasant, in fact, that is not much different from what Eric did. She is injured, half unconscious, and can't walk. She won't be much of a help; rather, she is...

Haah.

Standing, I sighed, then I bent down and picked her up. Needless to say, it wasn't an easy task, and the semiconscious woman didn't like that in the least. With one hand on my chin and the other on my chest, she struggled, trying to push me away, starting with my face.

"Hey, stop making things harder than they already are."

It isn't clear if she miraculously understood my words and decided to comply, albeit unconsciously, or if what was left of her strength wanned but she went still.

Good.

Though I don't know for how much longer I can carry her. I grumbled internally as my gaze fell intuitively on the rifle resting on the ground. The rifle I found beside the dead hunter not long ago. The rifle that saved me from a Shredder but also put me in front of it. The rifle that gave me some sense of security and was also one of the reasons I followed the team.

In the end, we aren't destined to be together, huh?

The weapon did as much harm as good, but for some reason, I want to thank it.

Shaking my head, not giving it any more glances, I resumed our course.

White corridors coated with red lighting, intersections, turns, empty rooms, and sealed hatches. I can't say for how long I'm trudging through this damning maze, but I know it's huge, and we are fucking lost.

It's turning me insane.

But I gritted my teeth; breaking here would be the end for both of us, I'm sure of that. If the supernatural monsters aren't enough for that, then a traitor is.

... we could also die of starvation.

Am I cursed or something? Only bad shit after bad shit.

bang.

And sure enough, as if to prove the end of one bad shit and the start of another bad shit, I heard it as soon as I reached another intersection: a gunshot.

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It came from the left.

Hesitating briefly. Fuck. Before reluctantly heading its way. It's a bad idea — I'm well aware of that — but so is wandering astray in the dark. The question is, which one is worse.

... you can't know that, however, unless you open the box.

Heading left then right afterwards, I halted as I spotted an open hatch, the most likely source of the sound.

"Wait for me here," I said to the half-conscious woman as I put her down, sitting her against the wall, hidden by the corner.

Bell nodded dopily. Good. It seems she is starting to recuperate.

Next, I stretched my sore arms a bit before taking Svelt, the rifle in both hands, in a ready-to-fire position, muzzle pointed ahead as I walked slowly and warily.

As I progressed, voices started to reach my ears, and soon I could see beyond the hatch thresholds. My hair immediately stood on end, and my breath caught in my throat.

A hall with a high ceiling, grey metallic flooring, and three hatches, including the one I'm under. It's similar to the entrance hall, albeit slightly smaller. Unusually, the room isn't empty; small and medium white, metallic boxes are scattered all around.

But this wasn't what caught my attention; it was the bleeding man on the ground, his back against one of the metallic boxes, in the middle of the room.

"... Alec?" I blurted unconsciously and immediately regretted it.

Standing in front of the bleeding captain, Eric, with his handgun pointing down, sharply turned his head in my direction, astonishment and confusion marring his face.

"You are not dead?!" He asked, his expression gradually morphing into anger. "You fucking little shit, put that gun down, NOW!"

"Huh... D-don't listen to him, kid," Alec strained as he said between coughing bouts. "You have the advantage; don't let him scare--"

"Shut your damn fucking trap; do you want to get him killed too?" He turned his attention to me. "And you," he said, his eyes hard and murderous, and with a cold voice that sent a shiver down my spine. "Put. That. Gun. Down... if you don't want to die."

The frown on my face deepened as I held Svelt closer, swallowing hard; my mouth moved on its own as I asked. "Zane is dead. Did you kill him?"

"He is?" The one who asked was Alec, with a weak voice; shock passed through his eyes before leaving behind bitter acceptance. "Of course, yes... yes," he mumbled.

"And so?" Eric said as if he didn't understand where the problem was. "Do you want to join him?"

"That was your intention, right?" I asked, recalling his initial surprise at seeing me. I first thought it was a shock for getting exposed or having a gun pointed at him. But then I remembered. "The path you indicated for us to take, what was there?"

"Oh, that?" His face contorted into a vicious smile. "Just three friendly puppies. I only wanted to help them finish what they started at your village."

You sick motherfucker.

Adjusting my hold on the rifle, "drop your weapon." I said it with gritted teeth.

Eric titled his head. "Are you upset?" He paused for a moment, then burst out laughing. "If anyone should be upset, it should be me, you FUCKING COCKROACH!" His face turned red, and veins sprouted on his forehead as he roared. "Everyone should be dead on the road if you little fucker wasn't there."

Eh? What is he...

"Do you fucking know how much trouble I went through luring those monsters? Even with my sensorial blessing, I almost died twice, just so you fucker could play the hero... FUCK YOU!"

My eyes widened as his words started to sink in. The three Shredders' attack on the Jeep was his doing.

"... why?" The question that had churned my mind since I discovered Zane's body slipped from my mouth.

He shook his head, then pointed at the door hatch to my right, a scowl still on his face. "Go straight, once right, then straight again. It will take you directly to the entrance we came from."

"Don't be fooled, Vic," Alec struggled as he said hastily. "Didn't he try t-the same trick before? It's a trap."

I don't need anyone to remind me of that.

"I did try to kill you before." Eric nodded, his cold eyes alternating between me and the target of his gun. "But it's nothing personal; you aren't my enemy, kid... It's them." He pointed his gun at Alec and then at a motionless body on the other side of Alec.

Bart.

The stoic, bald soldier lay on the ground, half of his body hidden by the metal box, which Alec is leaning against.

As I tried to catch my breath, Eric continued. "All of this has nothing to do with you, kid. You got swept up in the event, fell into a pit, and almost got killed multiple times, but here is your chance to climb out. Don't let emotions cloud your judgment."

I took a deep breath but didn't move; my rifle was still pointed at the aggressor. "Drop your weapon, Eric."

Please. I added inwardly.

"I see..." Eric sighed, and all the anger he had expressed before vanished from his face. "You let your dislike for me decide your actions?"

"It's not the case."

Assuming Eric wasn't lying about the exit, I would still not take it. And it's not out of hate for him, mind you. While I may genuinely dislike the traitor for his actions against me and the others, it's not enough to forsake my safety.

The reason I'm staying is because the woman still half-conscious a distance behind me. If I were to exit this place, I would need to take her with me, and I don't think Eric would allow that.

"Then it is to play the hero, isn't it?" Eric raised an eyebrow at my unintentional leak of emotion. "It is, huh? You foolishly categorized me as the evil guy and them as the good guys, right?" He laughed in contempt. "How naive. Look around, kid; have you wondered what this place is? Who builds it? What is its purpose?"

I squinted my eyes, not understanding where he was getting at.

"You see, this is a special laboratory built by their masters with the money they sucked from, how they call us, lesser people. People that are beneath their feet. Us. With no peacock blood in our veins... but well, nothing uncommon 'til here; what is uncommon, however, is this fucking facility's purpose; it was supposed to be a secret, but I have good rodent ears back at the city," he smiled, then took a deep breath before he said his voice was way colder than early.

"Most laboratories need lab rats; this one is the same; what differs, however, is the species of those rats. You see, kid, the lab rats used here are humans and Blessed humans — people like you and me, of all ages and genders, were forcefully abducted, some in the open, using the corrupt judicial system, and unfairly incriminated before getting sent here. While some — the less lucky ones — had to go through a third party; different shady organizations, for the lower priority targets, as for the higher priority targets, well... why don't you ask your good guy here?"

Alec didn't say anything for a while; his bloodied hand pressed on the area between the neck and shoulder, and he looked like he might pass out at any moment. Moving his gaze from the gun's muzzle pointed at him to my direction, he said with difficulty. "He is a t-traitor, Vic... don't forget that. Traitors are good liars and sly schemers, he... he is trying to make you drop your guard and gain time for... for the Shredders that got in to arrive."

"Tsk," clicking his tongue, Eric said disdainfully. "What a trash of a human being, though I shouldn't be surprised as the master as the pet."

"... listen, Vic. I know it's hard—I've gone through that too, you know. But it's fine, everything is fine... if it's you, I'm sure you can do it; with your blessing, everything will end up in a second; you don't even have to look... close your eyes and let the gifts Gods gave you guide your finger... it will be fine, you can do it, I trust you."

"Hmpf, if you don't have the guts to admit it, then shut your fucking trap. See, kid, this is what you labeled the good guy; instead of justifying himself, he is inciting you to commit murder. Do you honestly believe that's the behavior of a good guy?"

It felt like I was in an auction where the auctioned item was my decision.

Haah, I do not want to kill Eric; no, I do not want to kill a human. It's different from a hare or a monster; humans are, well... I don't think I'm capable of doing that, nor do I want to be.

It's hypocritical and foolish.

But all I want is to get my hide and bell's intact from here without having to kill anyone. As for them, they can do a bloody opera for all I care. That's none of my business. Though I owe Eric a thank you for the inside information, it'll certainly be useful in the future.

"Is this why you are doing this?" I asked.

Alec said that Eric is wasting time waiting for the Shredders to arrive; I don't know if that's true, but wasting time is useful to me as well. It won't be long before my backup fully regains consciousness, and I need to hold until then.

"Is that not enough?" Eric spat. "Blessed like us, sliced, minced, diced, raped, and tortured with the most inhuman ways. Is that not enough to kill these bastards?"

"I didn't see any of that."

"Hmpf, they were forced to shift their target of experiments from the Blessed to the Cursed, out of fear, after the Night of Castille. But I'm sure those cowardly bastards still held some Blessed; they were too greedy to simply let them go or kill them."

"Why did they withdraw from this lab then?"

"They didn't. The facility was fully functional until four months ago, when all communications were cut from the base, and by communication here, I'm referring to the old morse or something; it's a cable running between the fortress and the facility. Anyway. As this place's geographic location doesn't allow easy access in winter, the base had to wait until the road was cleared, and so here we are."

I furrowed. "The Shredders killed them, huh?"

"Shredders?" He laughed, and I felt it was genuine. "They wish, but that is highly unlikely. They were more than two thousand people here, but now no trace was left. Perhaps the Shredders buried them, who know?"

I frowned.

Shredders kill but don't eat their victims, and if it was the monster's doing, blood should paint every corner.

A shiver ran down my spine. If it is not the Shredders, then who or what?