Squad Sanguis

Chapter 7: The Breaking Point

Oki's head swam with confusion and exhaustion as he emerged from the holding cell, his body stiff from the hours—or was it days?—of confinement. Blinking against the dim overhead lights, he adjusted his stance, squaring his shoulders despite the phantom ache in his missing arm. Around him, the others shuffled out of their cells, their movements weary and mechanical, each step like dragging dead weight. The silence hung thick in the narrow corridor, only broken by the hollow echo of footsteps.

Maya fell into step beside him, her gaze scanning the barren hall. Her missing eye gave her face a lopsided intensity, a severity matched by the emptiness reflected in the other seven faces around them. Eight of them left—that was it. Oki's heart pounded as he took in the sight of his remaining companions, each one marked by some visible or invisible scar, a reminder of the trials that had whittled down their numbers.

The harsh smell of antiseptic greeted them as they entered the sparse dining room. Their small group gravitated toward one of the tables, each person settling into a seat without a word, and trays of barely edible food were placed in front of them. The silence felt like an unspoken pact, a shared acknowledgment of the ordeal they had endured.

Oki absently lifted his tray, the bland taste of protein paste filling his mouth as he chewed, lost in thought. Two days. It had been two long, brutal days since they'd completed the last trial. The initial rush of victory had faded, replaced by a restless uncertainty. The trials had been ruthless, forcing each of them to confront their weaknesses. But now...now, they sat idle, left to stew in their own fears. He stole a glance around the table, his eyes lingering on each face.

Tom sat across from him, his bruised knuckles resting on the table. His gaze was hard, steely—a man who'd fought his way through every obstacle without flinching. Vincent leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowed and lips pressed tight, his restless energy barely contained. Sophie, quiet as always, ate in small, measured bites, her hands steady even as her eyes darted nervously around the room. Amir's gaze was fixed on his tray, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion; beside him, David looked pale and drawn, his fingers tapping an anxious rhythm against the edge of his tray. And then there was Jess, her expression stoic, but her hand occasionally twitched, fingers flexing as though preparing for a fight.

The silence grew thick, pressing on his chest, and he forced himself to take another bite, chewing slowly to keep the questions gnawing at him at bay. But as much as he tried, his thoughts kept drifting to the trials ahead. What would the next one demand of them? How much more could they give?

"Seems we're all here for a reason," Oki muttered under his breath, barely aware he'd spoken aloud. Across the table, Maya raised her head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Survival of the fittest, right?" Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper, yet it cut through the silence. The others looked up, eyes narrowing, watching her as though trying to discern her intent.

Tom snorted, the harsh sound echoing in the room. "Yeah, but who's defining 'fittest' here? We're all just... cannon fodder."

The words struck a nerve, and a ripple of agreement spread through the group. Oki nodded slowly, biting back the urge to say more. He couldn't let his frustration slip; they all needed to conserve their strength, both physical and mental, for whatever lay ahead.

Maya's voice softened. "Do you ever wonder, Oki, if this is all just...a twisted game to them?" Her single eye focused intently on him, her gaze piercing through the tension. "Do you think they even care who makes it through?"

Oki hesitated, glancing around the table. The others had fallen silent again, waiting for his answer, their faces guarded yet yearning for some glimmer of insight. The truth was, he didn't know. None of them did.