Page 8 of Insanium
“How about we save this energy for the challenges ahead, shall we? There’s going to be enough trying to tear us apart in this game without us doing it to ourselves over a bit of banter,” Raphael interjected, attempting to shift the atmosphere to camaraderie.
Another voice from someone I hadn’t bothered to learn the name of chimed in. “Honestly, we shouldn’t even be worrying about any of this right now.”
I sighed. The conversation was veering into dull, and I wasn’t here for that. “You’re right,” I drawled. “Why worry about love and beauty when half of you aren’t making it out of here alive? Obviously, I don’t share those concerns—I am a Vetis, after all.”
An immediate silence descended, followed only by a low, knowing chuckle from Eryx behind me, his amusement a welcome note in the monotonous drone.
Liam did a subtle double-take as if only then realizing who I was. Bless his adorable heart. I was inwardly ecstatic that my family name carried its due weight. I knew my brothers and father would love that bit, assuming they had tuned in already. Mom would probably be on the verge of prideful tears. I missed them all already.
As we continued down the corridor, my mind raced with thoughts of the elaborate setup around us, each detail a piece of a larger, more unnerving puzzle. Holding the ticket in my hand, I wondered what awaited us as we found our way into a dimly lit theater, where a solemn, almost sacred silence enveloped the room once the doors clicked shut. The space was expansive, and I quickly located my designated seat in Row B.
“Looks like I’m in B14,” I announced, checking in with Aisha and Hael for theirs.
“B12 for me,” Aisha responded, just two seats away.
“Different row, A7,” Hael noted with a slight frown.
We navigated through the rows to our seats, passing the unsettlingly still masked clowns scattered among us. Their grotesque expressions were frozen, none acknowledging our arrival—quite rude, really. I settled into my seat, the plush fabric feeling oddly comforting against the backdrop of potential chaos. Aisha was only two seats away, separated by a clown whose sinister grin seemed almost too real under the dim lights. I kept a watchful eye on it, ready at a moment’s notice.
I flicked Aisha a reassuring thumbs-up. The tension in her posture was unmistakable. It was unfair she had to be here, all because of her cunt sister’s machinations, using me as bait. She would regret this. I’d personally see to it. I glanced over my shoulder to see how Hael was settling into his seat. Catching my look, he nodded reassuringly. Another clown was perched close to him, adding an edge to our separation. My focus shifted abruptly as the seat beside me dipped. The subtle scent of spicy cologne wafted over, heralding Raphael’s arrival.
“Keeping a close watch on our stoic friends?” he murmured, nodding towards the motionless clown a few seats from Hael.
“Pretty much,” I replied, keeping my voice low. “Making sure they’re here for ambiance and not part of the entertainment.” My eyes darted to the hourglass spinning relentlessly on the screen, its sand slipping away as if counting down to something inevitable.
What were we waiting for?
My gaze inadvertently crossed Eryx Draven’s as I turned my head. He was seated almost diagonally from me and had an easy view of the whole theater. His eyes, piercing and direct, locked with mine.
I held his stare deliberately, not wanting to appear like some damsel rattled by his brooding intensity. I used the opportunity to take a really good look at him. His slick, neatly styled hair, closely shaved at the sides, added to his structured, intenseaura. The intricate tattoos climbing up the side of his head and neck spoke of his complex past and the dark world we navigated, contributing to his formidable presence. Additional tattoos adorned his hands and fingers, each a visible symbol of his experiences and commitments.
His expression was a mixture of curiosity and a silent dare—a test of wills played out in a fleeting, charged moment.
This silent standoff was gently broken by Raphael’s nudge. “Look,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Turning my attention back to the screen, I watched as the theater lights dimmed further, and the display shifted dramatically. Animated scenes of elaborate traps and frantic participants played across the screen, depicted in a whimsically dark style that lent a peculiar charm to their otherwise grim fates. It was like watching a twisted carnival of horrors, the animation adding a strangely joyful twist to the scenes of chaos and calamity. Then, the visual narrative shifted back to show the theater lobby we had traversed, now empty.
A deep, resonant voice began to overlay the imagery, compelling in its gravitas.
“Welcome toJudicium, the pinnacle challenge of your intellect and resilience.
Within this very cinema lies a yellow door, your gateway to what awaits beyond.
However, unlocking this door requires a code.
This digit is secured in keys of three.
The first resides in this room, veiled among the shadows of those around you.
The remaining two are tucked away—one amidst the virtual thrills that deceive the eye, the other buried within the sustenance that pumps your heart.
Watch the screen and count the time.
Should you fail to be seated, the silent sentinels will promptly remove you from our game—a permanent exit.
Proceed with caution and urgency, for every decision could be your last.
Let the first Judgment commence.”
