Chapter 8: The Pit of the Forsaken
Darkness.
The pit was nothing but endless, suffocating darkness.
Kim Han's body ached from the fall, but the pain was the least of his concerns. The shuffling sounds around him told him he wasn't alone.
A faint ray of light from above revealed figures moving in the shadows—skin stretched tight over bones, hollow eyes glowing with hunger.
The other prisoners.
A cold, animalistic voice echoed from the darkness.
"Fresh meat."
Then, they lunged.
Han barely had time to react. Something sharp slashed across his arm as he scrambled backward, his heart pounding.
A boy, barely older than him, covered in filth and scars, bared his teeth like a rabid animal. His fingers were curled like claws, ready to tear into Han's flesh.
"Stay back," Han warned, but his voice was weak.
The boy didn't listen.
He lunged again.
Han barely dodged, his foot slipping on the damp ground. He hit the wall hard.
The others moved in.
They were starving. Desperate.
And in this place, only the strong survived.
Han's breath came in ragged gasps. He had no weapon. No strength. No chance.
But he refused to die here.
Not like this.
A boy swung a jagged piece of bone at him. Han ducked, grabbing a fistful of sand and throwing it into his attacker's eyes.
The boy screamed, blinded.
Han didn't hesitate. He slammed his fist into the boy's throat with everything he had.
A sickening crunch. The boy collapsed, choking.
The others froze.
Han stood over the dying boy, panting, his hands trembling. He had never killed before.
But this wasn't murder.
This was survival.
The remaining prisoners hesitated. In the pit, the weak were devoured. But Han had just proven himself.
For now, they backed off.
But he knew it wouldn't last.
He needed to escape.
---
Days passed. Or maybe weeks. There was no way to tell time in the pit.
No food. No water. Only the bodies of those who weren't strong enough to survive.
The first time Han saw one of the prisoners eat another person, he nearly threw up.
By the third time, he stopped feeling anything.
Hunger was an enemy worse than any blade.
It clawed at his insides, whispering in his ear, Just one bite. Just a little.
He resisted.
But he knew, deep down, that if he stayed here any longer, he would become like them.
A beast.
A monster.
He had to find a way out.
---
One night, as he lay against the cold stone wall, barely breathing, he heard something.
Footsteps.
But not from inside the pit.
From above.
Then, voices.
"It's been too long. He's probably dead."
"No. That boy… he's different."
Han's eyes snapped open.
It was Daichi Sato.
His blood boiled. Rage pushed past the hunger.
Daichi was here. Watching. Enjoying his suffering.
Han clenched his fists.
I'll kill you.
I don't care how long it takes.
I'll rip you apart with my bare hands if I have to.
But first, I have to survive.
And escape.