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"...Why is this happening?"

He leaned against a wall, pressing his palm against it as he held his other hand over his left eye with a strained expression.

Tears strolled from his eyes, fleeing downwards as he stood there in a mixture of confusion, anger, and sadness.

"Hyun, Ara, and…now Myung-Hee…? What the hell is going on?!"

He balled his fist up, slamming it against the wall harshly before resting his forehead against its cold, grimy surface.

It was just Kamou and himself left on the party status–a reality he thought felt like a horrific nightmare that he wished to cast aside, but no such reprieve was found.

Instead, he was alone in the dark, maze-like halls of the dungeon, finding himself traversing its confusing layout with no proper direction.

"...Kamou…"

I have to find her–before it\'s too late! He resolved, And if any of these freaks get in my way…I don\'t have room or time for mercy–I can\'t hesitate.

Though, he hardly knew where to begin; he wandered aimlessly and tirelessly with a heart filled with anxiety.

Even walking forward felt like a task in itself as he tried to suppress his emotions, feeling his steps grow heavier with each step.

Simply, his heart throbbed–it ached. It was a sadness he wasn\'t accustomed to; the loss of friends. Even in the face of the apocalypse itself, he didn\'t experience firsthand loss, not so close, and so visceral.

More than grief in that moment, he felt enraged: the few companions he had made were stripped away from him, and the hard fight they fought for their lives were snuffed out.

…I\'ll get them. Whatever it takes–these people can\'t be left–they can\'t continue doing this, he thought.

By now, he regretted sparing the one he encountered earlier, but it was too late to turn back–he had to find Kamou.

As he turned down a few corridors in the labyrinth that was covered in filth and chains, he quickly covered his nose at the arrival of a repugnant stench.

"What\'s that…?"

He asked himself, muffled by his hand as he looked up, stepping back out of sheer shock of the sight that awaited his eyes: bodies, strung up by the chains, decrepit, rotting, and left for whatever reason.

The one question that arrived in his mind was simply: "Why?"

It made no sense why such a thing would be done, but it was something he found his own answer to through remembering the man he encountered earlier: there was no rhyme or reason to evil.

He pulled his scarf over his nose, continuing to move down the zigzagging corridors while attempting to keep the bodies out of view, but the inherent, human curiosity kept causing his vision to latch onto the horrific sights persisting at the corners of his eyes.

…Dying in a place like this is just…He thought.

Imagining Kamou now being alone in such a repulsive domain of utter depravity, he felt his body run over with an impatient, bubbling heat, yet feeling his spine running with a chill at the same time.

"I have to find her…" He whispered to himself.

Venturing through the dark labyrinth, he found himself turning a corner that made him stop as the bottom of his shoe immediately sank into a warm puddle of something that splashed beneath his step.

"Huh…?"

He looked down to find a puddle of blood that he had stepped into, slowly raising his gaze to find its source.

There were three bodies, two of which he recognized–a heart-shattering, vile sight that immediately made him turn around and vomit, spewing bile from his gut.

It was one thing to see their life be plucked from the system, but another entirety to see that reality with his own two eyes. The two blood-related companions were in such horrid condition that he couldn\'t help but feel the pain they must\'ve experienced in their final moments.

"...Shit…" He said in a tremble, covering his mouth as his eyes quivered.

He purposefully avoided looking back, feeling the dreadful air surrounding the horrific scenery rise behind him as ventured away from that area, using the wall to guide himself as he walked slowly.

Taking his glasses off, he stopped again, having to exude the sorrow from his eyes as he wiped them down with the black sleeve of his uniform.

It was an experience that embedded itself into his memory; the sight, smell, and the hum of the deathly air. Through his aimless traversing of the grotesque labyrinth, he carried this fresh, horrific memory with him.

…Just how vast is this place? He questioned.

Though it resembled an Obsidian Dungeon, it was distinctly different in the human-made attributes that were attached to it, causing him to look up as he stopped for a moment, being alerted by the sounds of chains dangling.

As he looked upwards, he saw it must\'ve just been a draft, brushing against a link of chains as they chimed.

"--"

Before he could take another step forward, a presence suddenly weighed down directly behind him, prompting him to turn around.

"Wha–"

Something came in a blur, hitting against his head with a solid thwack before–it all went black.

In the absence of consciousness, he could perceive some form of movement, as if his body was floating, being moved towards something.

His wrists and ankles were bound, and a certain pressure formed at his head–he was being carried upside down, he surmised in his faint sense of mind.

…What\'s going on…? He wondered faintly.

The sounds of shuffling met his ears, a wooden door creaking open, chains dangling, steps being taken, and voices conversing.

It was all too much for his faint, flickering consciousness to process, though it all felt as if it was happening across a single moment.

When suddenly being dropped down onto the harsh, solid ground, he woke up in a jolt, opening his groggy eyes to find the metallic, barred door of a metal cage being slammed shut in front of his face.

"What the…?!" He muttered out, immediately sitting up.

He fell just as quickly as he lifted himself, remembering his ankles were tightly bound together, and his wrists were wrapped tightly in ropes, squeezing against his wrists so tightly that the slightest movement burned his skin with friction.

In front of him, past the cage, he could see them: robed men, obscured by the shadows of the grimy room, but one stood out most: a lanky man with long, straight locks of snow-white, possessing pupiless eyes that possessed an intrinsic madness.

As if sensing his gaze, the snow-haired man aggressively spun his head around to meet his gaze, smiling as he kept his hands behind his back.

"He awakes."

–The pale, malnourished-seeming man dressed in dirtied priest robes spoke with an unnatural movement to his lips, looking straight at him with his fully white eyes.

He instinctively reared back, backing against the far wall of the cage as the pale man approached the cage, turning his side to stare at him as if scoping the very contents of his soul.

"The fear of a sinner," the man spoke quietly, yet clearly, "It\'s a potent stench, some may call it. I consider it a fragrance. Knowing that a sinner such as yourself is feeling the weight of their grotesque actions brings me an endless feeling of satisfaction."