Sael spoke first.
His voice did not tremble. There was no agitation in it—only a proposal placed at the proper moment, as though this were the natural next step of the path they had walked together.
"As long as you sacrifice your self," Sael said, "all of us will live."
No one elaborated.
There was no need.
V understood immediately what that meant.
One dies, three live longer.
Or three consume one slowly—so none of them have to die today.
The thought made his stomach tighten.
Not out of fear—
But disgust.
He remained silent for several seconds. Not because he had nothing to think—but because too many things surged at once: the empty-eyed wanderers, the man who had "stopped" at the stone plaza, the indentations carved into the inner rings.
And one simple question he could not push away:
If I die here… what happens to me in the real world?
Was his body lying unconscious somewhere? Still breathing? Would his mind return—
Or would it leave behind an empty shell?
He didn't know.
And the most terrifying part was this: no one here knew for certain either.
Even the smallest percentage of doubt was something he refused to test.
"No," he said.
His voice wasn't loud.
But it was clear.
Sael did not look surprised.
"You don't understand," he replied. "There is no 'enough' here. Only 'remaining' and 'finished.' We don't do this because we want to. We do it to survive."
"By killing someone else," V answered.
Sael looked at him without anger. Without justification. Just the gaze of someone who had gone too far to still recognize contradiction.
"By not becoming them," he said.
Keren shifted.
Not abruptly.
Just one natural step sideways—into the single position that led back up toward the outer ring.
V saw it immediately.
And understood:
There was no escape.
Keren stood there, arms relaxed at his sides, shoulders loose—but his entire body set at the precise angle of a locked hinge.
"Don't think about running," he said lightly. "Running here only makes it hurt more."
Irok no longer looked at V.
From the moment Sael had spoken, Irok's gaze had drifted to the center—the lowest point of the structure. As if the decision had already been made, and what followed was mere procedure.
That was what chilled V.
Not the threat.
But the acceptance.
Two hands took hold of his arms—not violently, not roughly. Sael held one side. Keren the other. Not gripping hard. Just enough to guide him along the trajectory they wanted.
They led him downward.
With each step, the air grew heavier.
Not physical pressure—
But the sensation of an invisible field pressing thoughts toward a single direction. Concepts that once scattered now began to align.
He noticed it.
And he noticed something else.
The three of them… were affected more.
Sael's breathing had grown heavier. His steps, though controlled, no longer perfectly steady. Keren blinked repeatedly, as if the light at the center made it difficult to focus. Even Irok—once the most stable—had grown quieter, his movements slightly disjointed.
V wasn't stronger than them.
He was simply… clearer.
The orphanage.
The beatings.
The children who were chosen—leaving the rest behind.
Fifteen years of living.
In this place—where memory was energy—he still carried a mass that had not yet been eroded.
And that mass was keeping him awake.
They reached the center.
There was no sign of ritual. No tools. No altar.
Just the lowest point where the rings converged, spiraled symbols layered so densely that staring too long made him nauseous.
They forced him to kneel.
"Don't worry," Sael said, crouching to meet his eyes. "It'll be quick."
Keren stood behind him, a hand resting on his shoulder—light, but positioned with exact precision. Irok stood opposite, finally looking at him again.
His eyes were no longer evaluating.
Only empty.
V laughed.
Not loudly. Not mockingly.
Just a very human reflex at the recognition of final irony.
"You know," he said slowly, choosing each word with care, "this place affects you more than it does me."
Silence.
He felt it clearly—whatever existed at the center was pulling everything downward.
Pulling memory. Pulling will. Pulling cohesion into a state where division became easy.
But at the same time—
It was exposing them.
And for the first time, the three who still remembered revealed themselves—not as guides.
But as starving things.
Starving for continued existence.
V closed his eyes.
If this was an altar—
He would not stand here as prey.
The change began slowly.
So slowly it felt hesitant—as though the space itself was deciding whether to awaken. The carved symbols did not light at first. They shifted color: black to gray, gray to deep blue—then halted at a hue V had never seen in natural light.
It looked like suspended water, held in midair.
The concentric rings responded in sequence, each lighting a second after the last, progressing inward.
One.
Two.
Three.
When the glow reached the innermost ring, Sael faltered.
"Wait," he said, voice dropping. "It's not—"
V didn't wait for the sentence to finish.
He drove his body toward Sael.
Not with force. Not with a dramatic shove.
Just a subtle shift in direction—precisely when Sael leaned slightly toward the center while speaking.
Under normal conditions, it would have made him stumble.
Here—
It shattered his balance.
Sael fell.
The light erupted.
Sael screamed.
"Ahrrrrrrrhhh......."
V twisted and ran.
Not toward the path behind—where Keren still stood.
He ran in the opposite direction, outward.
Each step felt like running through thick water.
No analysis. No thought.
Only a single command:
Away from the center.
Behind him, Sael's scream cut off.
Whatever was happening to him required no imagination.
Keren moved.
He lunged after V.
His eyes weren't on the center—they were locked onto V's back.
But he was too late.
One second was all it took.
The altar required no more.
A thin strand of pale light lashed outward from the center—not striking flesh, but hooking directly into Keren's head like a thread piercing fabric.
V saw his expression change.
Not fear.
But extreme greed.
One thought magnified and looping:
If I can consume just a little more—
Keren turned.
As though he chose to.
He ran back toward the center.
He fell beside Sael.
Two streams of memory ignited at once.
The light shifted again—no longer deep blue, but white-blue, so deep it felt bottomless.
V stood at the outer ring, breathing hard.
Only one remained.
Irok.
He had not been pulled.
Not yet.
Irok stood at the edge of the outermost ring, the light reflecting against a face stripped of its calm composure.
"Three," Irok said hoarsely, saliva trailing from his mouth.
"Three people."
He smiled.
No longer hiding anything.
"If I can devour all three," he whispered, eyes burning, "I will live… a very long time."
The light beneath his feet trembled.
And then—
Irok lunged.