The first faint hint of artificial dawn, a dim, oppressive grey that filtered down from the distant lamps, brought no comfort to Adam and his group. The night on the giant tree had been a waking nightmare. The roiling crimson lake below, the unseen horrors lurking in its depths, and the chilling knowledge that Ylva's body lay fragmented within it, had kept them on edge. But the most immediate grief was here, among them.
Lee was gone. His shallow breaths had slowly, agonizingly, faded into silence an hour before dawn. His body, slumped against the gnarled bark, was cold and still. The wound in his belly had indeed never stopped bleeding.
"He didn't make it," Harry whispered, his voice hoarse, his glasses misted with unshed tears. He stared at Lee's lifeless form, the nervous energy that usually buzzed around him utterly extinguished.
Panchenko, for once, had no witty retort, no sarcastic quip. He simply clenched his jaw, his eyes fixed on the boiling lake below, a simmering hatred in their depths. Astrid had her face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Jones looked like a statue carved from grief, his powerful frame rigid. Julian stood apart, his face a mask of stone, but even he could not hide the grim set of his jaw.
Adam felt a hollow ache in his chest, a growing emptiness where his hope had once resided. Pao. Ylva. Lee. The list of the fallen was growing, and they had barely begun.
Far above, in his control room, Ursa watched the somber scene on his monitors, a satisfied, cruel smile twisting his lips. He noted the still form of Lee, the despondent postures of the survivors.
"Report," Ursa commanded, his voice filled with a smug pleasure.
The demon guard, who had remained vigilant all night, bowed. "Commander, the human known as Lee has expired. The group is severely demoralized. Their numbers are significantly reduced."
"Excellent," Ursa purred, a dark chuckle rumbling in his chest. "The Crimson Lake has done its work. Let them truly understand the futility of their aspirations. Let their spirits break." He gestured with a clawed hand. "Order the water levels to lower. Get those pathetic survivors back to their cells. They've had enough 'training' for one day."
As if on cue, a low hum resonated through Level Two, and the crimson water of the lake began to recede, slowly but steadily. The monstrous shapes in the depths sank with it, disappearing back into the scalding abyss. Relief, faint and fleeting, washed over Adam. But it was quickly replaced by the bitter taste of loss.
When the water was low enough, they carefully descended from the tree, their limbs stiff and aching. The return journey to the main gate felt heavier than the fight to the island. They carried their dead, their faces etched with the night's horrors.
Back in their cell, the silence was deafening. Lee's bunk lay empty.
"What now?" Harry finally whispered, breaking the oppressive quiet. "We… we lost Lee. And Pao. And Ylva. We're so few."
Panchenko rubbed a hand over his bald head. "He's right. Our numbers are thin. The monsters in Level Three… Tom, what were they again? Worms? In a desert? Sounds delightful."
"Large worm-like monsters," Tom confirmed, his voice devoid of his usual academic detachment, tinged with a raw edge of grief. "They ambush from beneath the sand. And the heat… it's unbearable."
Astrid, her eyes still red-rimmed, looked at Adam. "Adam, we talked about escape. About Edward. But at what cost? How many more of us have to die just to get to the next level of hell?" Her question hung in the air, echoing the doubt in all their hearts.
Adam looked at Julian, then at the weary faces of his remaining friends. Their initial resolve, born of vengeance and desperate hope, was now facing the harsh reality of Kazakhar's brutal efficiency. Their survivability was now undeniably thinned.
"We knew this wouldn't be easy," Adam said, his voice raspy, yet firm. "We knew it would cost us. But what's the alternative? To rot in these cells? To face these horrors one day at a time, with no end in sight?" He met Astrid's gaze. "Pao, Ylva, Lee… they died trying to survive, trying to fight. Do we honor their sacrifice by giving up?"
Jones, who had been silent, finally spoke, his voice a low rumble. "He's right. There's no turning back. We decided on a path. We go forward. We have to."
Julian, too, nodded. "Stagnation is death. Retreat is guaranteed extinction. We move forward. But we must be smarter. We learn from our losses." He looked at Tom. "The information you have about the levels… it's more crucial now than ever. Every detail. Every weakness. We can't afford any more surprises like the Chimera or the rising lake."
Adam looked at his friends, the fear and grief evident in their eyes, but also a flicker of renewed determination. The path to vengeance still called, a burning ember in his heart. It was a terrifying thought, but they had to go on. They had to go through Level Three, then Four, then Five.
"So," Adam said, his voice low but resolute, "we decide now. Do we stay here on Level Two, hoping for easier days that won't come? Or do we push forward, towards Level Three, towards Edward, towards our only chance at freedom?"