The circular central hall was exactly as they'd left it. Twenty-two archways arranged in perfect symmetry. Sourceless light illuminating polished stone floors.
And completely empty.
The sailors who'd chosen to stay behind were gone without trace, their whereabouts and current state unknown.
"So they truly didn't survive...?" Althea muttered.
Finn didn't answer. Whether they were dead or not, he didn't really care all too much now. Perhaps that was cold, but in his current state of mind, such worries eluded him.
He moved to the center of the hall, turning slowly to examine each archway in sequence. His mind was already working, drawing correlations based on what he'd faced in the last corridor and what he knew.
There were twenty-two corridors here. And twenty-one soul masses in his future inventory.
Corridor twenty-two, the last one, correlated with the Crimson Fist Baboon. Rank 21/21. The weakest soul mass he'd had in the future, which was now integrated into his soul.
