The one retrieved from The Void

Vas lay down to rest, but an uneasy feeling gnawed at him. Something was coming—he couldn't say what, but the certainty lingered. Despite this, exhaustion soon claimed him, and he drifted into a restless sleep.

Suddenly, a tremor shook the building, jolting Vas awake. Disoriented but alert, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and quickly donned the gear provided by the prison. Whatever was happening, it was better to be prepared.

As he stepped into the hallway, he saw other students emerging from their rooms, their faces etched with confusion and worry. Whispers filled the corridor as they exchanged theories about the sudden tremor. Curiosity drove them all downstairs to the first floor, where they found their teachers already gathered, looking tense but trying to maintain composure.

"Please remain calm," one of the teachers began, her voice steady but edged with urgency.

Before she could continue, a resounding boom echoed from the massive doors behind her, cutting through her words like a knife.

"Yeah, that definitely helps with staying calm," Carmilla muttered, folding her arms.

"Do not panic," the teacher insisted, though her words were quickly drowned out by another deafening boom. Dust fell from the ceiling, and the ground quivered again.

"Are you sure we're safe?" Ken asked, glancing nervously at the doors.

"This building was designed to withstand bombs," the teacher replied, her tone faltering. "We are secure here."

As if to test her claim, the heavy doors groaned, then began to creak open. At first, the students dared to hope it was reinforcements—a guard or officer coming to reassure them. But as the figure stepped inside, hope gave way to dread.

It was not a guard.

The man who entered wore a strange, tightly-fitted leather suit, its straps torn and hanging as if forcibly ripped apart. His short, unkempt black hair obscured his eyes, and his movements were unsettlingly jerky, as though he was unaccustomed to walking. His hands were clasped behind his back, his posture relaxed but unnerving.

"So," the man said, his voice low and drawling. He leaned forward slightly, peering at the group. "You're the kids."

One of the teachers immediately stepped in front of the students, arms spread protectively. "Who are you?" she demanded, her tone both stern and cautious.

The man tilted his head, as if considering the question. "Depends on who you ask," he said with a crooked grin. "But for now, you can call me your captor."

"You need to leave," the teacher said, her voice firm despite the fear creeping into her eyes. "Guards will be here any moment. If you go now, you can avoid any further trouble."

The man chuckled—a cold, hollow sound that sent chills down everyone's spine. Slowly, he brought his hands forward, revealing what he had been hiding.

In each hand, he held the severed head of a guard.

Gasps of horror filled the room. The heads weren't cleanly severed; jagged flesh and vertebrae hung from the torn necks, evidence of the brute force used to rip them free. Blood dripped onto the floor in soft, wet splashes.

"These guards?" the man said mockingly, raising the grotesque trophies for all to see. "No one's coming. For now, you'll all stay here—quiet, obedient little hostages. If no one does anything stupid, no one else dies."

With that, he dropped the heads to the ground with a sickening thud. Without another word, he turned and strolled out of the building, leaving the students and teachers paralyzed in the aftermath of the encounter.

The room was silent, save for the sound of trembling breaths. No one dared move, the image of the man's smile and his brutal trophies seared into their minds.

"Okay, what should we do next?" Carmilla asked, shaking off the initial shock.

"We stay put and wait to be rescued," Paula, their teacher, replied firmly. "We need to trust that someone will come for us." Despite her attempt at a steady tone, cracks showed in her voice. She was clearly terrified.

"Well, he did say we're hostages," one of the students piped up. "They won't hurt us."

Vas glanced at Lily, who was nodding along with the others. Unlike them, though, he didn't believe it—not for a second. Hostages weren't always treated the same. Some were bargaining chips, while others were expendable. In the best-case scenario, half the students here were valuable. The rest? Proof. Negotiation tools. First, they'd be shown alive in a photo or video. If that didn't work, the captors would escalate—sending mutilated "evidence." A finger. An ear. Or worse.

"Not all of us have the same value," Carmilla said, cutting into Vas's grim thoughts.

"What do you mean?" Yuu asked, her voice trembling.

"Some of us are worth more," Aura replied. "Take Hek or von Kreuz over there—their families have influence. The rest of us? We're ammunition."

Then with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, she continued. "They'll start small. First, they'll show we're alive, maybe send a picture. But if negotiations stall…" Her voice faltered as panic overtook her. She clutched at her chest, trembling as tears streamed down her face.

"If that doesn't work, they'll move to something more visceral," Vas said, leaning back against the wall. His tone was detached, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "Fingers. Hands. Ears. Stuff they can cut without hindering our ability to move. Those would make the perfect 'proof.'"

"What are you even saying?" Paula asked, horrified.

"For a teacher, you seem surprisingly naive," Vas replied without looking at her.

"Vas, just answer the question," Antonio, the other teacher, interjected.

"Oh, I see," Vas said, turning to face the group. "You all know the answer. You just don't want to say it. Fine—I'll spell it out. If that doesn't work, they'll kill us. That's how this works."

"How can you say that?!" Pach yelled, his voice cracking with desperation. "If you're from the Hek family, there's no way your grandparents would let it come to that!"

"Yeah!" another student chimed in. "They'd never risk you!"

"No, they wouldn't," Carmilla said flatly, cutting off any hope. "But the person in charge of the Hek family's decisions is Gerald, and he won't let anyone strong-arm him. As for my family? My mother would rather storm in here herself than let someone dictate terms to her."

"And who the hell are you?" another student demanded.

"Carmilla von Kreuz," Vas answered for her. "Her mother leads the Cruz Mercenaries. They're one of the noble families."

"Fuck," someone muttered. "So you two are the real hostages. What about the rest of us?"

Vas shrugged. "We've got two options: wait it out—some of us will probably make it—or try to reach the main building. That's likely where the guards are holding out."

"Resisting until what?" Ken asked, his fists clenched.

"This place must send out a regular signal to confirm everything's fine," Vas explained. "When that signal stops, someone will come to check."

"Has anyone tried to contact the outside?" Lily asked.

A shy student raised a trembling hand. "I… I tried. It didn't work."

"If communications are jammed, what makes you think they didn't fake the signal too?" Lily pressed.

"It doesn't matter," Vas said. "When we don't show up back home on schedule, they'll send someone."

"That doesn't make sense!" another student shouted. "Wouldn't they try to contact this place first? They'll figure out something's wrong immediately."

Carmilla, already bored with the conversation, rested her head on her folded arms atop a table. "They won't make contact until they control the main building," she said, her voice muffled. "They need to prove they're in charge, or none of this works."

"True," Ken muttered. "So… what do we do?" His fists trembled with frustration.

A thunderous explosion shook the entire building, sending tremors through the floor and walls. The force was so intense that several students and teachers lost their footing, collapsing to the ground.

"I think they just made the decision for us," Vas remarked, unnervingly calm amid the chaos.

"What do you mean?" Paula asked, struggling to steady herself.

"Truthfully, two scenarios come to mind," Vas began, his tone matter-of-fact. "And either, some of them died. Or some guards die."

"And?" Aura pressed, her voice trembling.

"If guards are dead from an explosion that shook this place like that, it means our captors have breached the main building. Otherwise, no way that blast would've taken out multiple guards."

"And if it's them who died?" Ken asked warily.

"Then something went horribly wrong, and they'll be furious. Which means they'll come here, grab us, and use us as leverage to force the guards to open the doors," Vas explained while rising to his feet and stretching.

Carmilla followed suit, rolling her shoulders and loosening her arms. "So either way, they're coming here."

"Exactly."

"Why are you stretching?" Pach asked, his brows furrowed.

"To be ready for all options," Vas replied simply.

Hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing louder with each passing second. The tension thickened as the same man who had earlier declared them hostages burst into the room, his expression twisted with a cruel grin.