Hells Escape: A Journey of Redemption

The fire crackled low, its orange light casting flickering shadows across the cold, grainy sand. Around it, the Cohort had taken unusual places, segregated, silent, and simmering with unspoken tension.

Joseph and James sat together, their heads leaning in, their voices low and sharp. They were arguing about Damien again, whether he could be trusted, and whether the visions were real. But as always, James eventually nodded along, accepting Joseph's word as gospel. It didn't matter if he believed it, only that Joseph said it.

A short distance away, Damien sat cross-legged beside the Grey Monk. The two of them didn't speak, wrapped in their own silence. Nearby, the girls had clustered together, forming a quiet circle of their own. Damien had no idea what they were whispering about, and frankly, he didn't care.

Three wooden boxes rested on the sand, one at the feet of Joseph, one beside James, and the third close to Blythe. Medium-sized, worn from use, each could comfortably hold a week's worth of bread and water for the entire cohort.

Damien had taken note of them on his first night.

They weren't just storage.

They were symbols of control, of unspoken hierarchy. Joseph had clearly made the decision: he, James, and Blythe were the ones entrusted with the supplies, and the rest of the group was expected to follow without question.

He glanced at the boxes, then at the others, and let a wry smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

Well… I guess that makes me a follower now, too.

With nothing to do but sit in the thick fog of distrust, Damien exhaled slowly. The silence gave his mind too much room, and inevitably, his thoughts turned to violence.

He began to run through the same exercise he'd relied on back at the Organization: kill-mapping. A mental strategy where he analyzed each ally, each stranger, not as people, but as threats. He had done it with every partner he'd been assigned, even Summer the backstabbing traitor who had shot him dead.

His eyes flicked across the fire.

Jenna, Blythe, and the bland girl.

They would be the easiest. None of them showed signs of formal combat training, lacking the weight of someone who had seen real blood spilled and lived to tell the tale.

Jenna's explosions, while flashy, had too much startup and no close-range reliability. The bland girl's bubble ability is sluggish and predictable. As for Blythe… Damien's brow furrowed slightly.

She might be a problem.

He replayed the memory of their encounter with the two-star insect—the one that had split into multiple creatures before the fight began. Blythe had killed hers swiftly, while Damien, at the time, had not.

He shrugged at the thought, unbothered.

Her healing, minimal though it was, could extend her survivability, and he knew that her ability didn't end there. She hadn't shown everything yet, but whatever else it could do, it wouldn't be enough. Damien's physical abilities far surpassed hers.

The system functioned on multiplicative enhancement, not equalization. That meant raw stats mattered, and biologically, men had the edge. Unless her gift offered sudden invulnerability or some hidden offensive twist, she couldn't outpace him.

No, he would overwhelm her before she could react.

Speed would be his weapon.

Now, it was time to consider the real threats: the Grey Monk, Joseph, and James.

Damien's eyes lingered on the Monk first. Of the three, he would likely be the least troublesome in open combat, but ever since their first encounter, Damien knew one thing.

He's hiding something.

He hadn't revealed his full hand. Not to Damien, and that meant caution, but he needed Damien for something, and that mutual dependence created an unspoken ceasefire. A fight between them was unlikely.

Still, Damien ran through the scenario.

He studied the Monk's frame. Bulky, thick arms folded in prayer, muscles coiled even in stillness. His sheer size alone was a problem. His weapon, too, was better suited for a drawn-out clash, and while his combat experience was a shade below Damien's, it was nothing to scoff at.

He outmatches me in strength, but his virtue is utility-based, not offensive. That's my opening... But being able to transfer his exhaustion onto me might be tricky.

Considering his sin ability, if it came down to it, Damien would have to close the distance and eliminate him in a single, decisive strike.

He shifted his attention to the pair still talking—Joseph and James.

These two were the most significant threats by far.

Joseph's fire is a real problem. His control over it was advanced, dangerously so, and his swordsmanship, while not elite, was refined enough to hold his own in a straight fight. Worse, he carried the kind of confidence that came from surviving more than a few near-death experiences. Without a virtue of his own to fall back on, Damien's options against him were limited.

Not to mention his armor...If it ever came to it, the only way I'd win is with help. Jenna's blood would tilt the scales.

Then there was James—lanky, skinny-fat, brown-eyed, and staring directly at him. Their eyes locked for a moment.

Damien smiled.

It wasn't real, of course. Behind the grin was a vivid plan to brutally gut the bastard.

Oh, I'm going to kill you. It's written in the book of fate.

He looked away casually, as if the thought had never crossed his mind.

If they had to fight right now, just the two of them, Damien was confident he would win, as long as Joseph didn't intervene or give James any commands. His virtue gave him a tremendous physical boost when he followed direct orders, or at least that's what Damien gathered from their fight with the insect.

Although, I don't know his sin ability...

A soft crunch in the sand broke Damien's thoughts. He turned toward the sound and spotted Blythe approaching. Behind her, Jenna and the bland girl remained seated by the supply box, still lost in their quiet conversation.

Blythe's arms were wrapped tightly around herself, the cold wind tugging at the hem of her white sundress. It clung to her frame as the desert chill nipped at her skin. She wore her smile like a crescent moon. To Damien, she might've been the most stunning woman he'd ever seen.

Still, a familiar itch crawled up the back of his neck. He honestly liked her, but the thought came anyway, uninvited and bright as a blade.

It would be so fun to crush her.

He didn't let it show. Instead, he mirrored her expression with practiced ease and said,

"Hey. What's up?"

She stopped a few feet away, her smile warming like dawn breaking across her face.

"You said you'd help me find my sister, remember? We got so close last time. I'm hoping tonight you see something... anything that points to where she is."

Damien gave a cool nod. "Of course I didn't forget."

He could feel eyes on them, especially Joseph's, and the Grey Monks, both staring for different reasons. Standing, he dusted off his hands and gestured toward the dark dunes beyond the firelight.

"Let's talk over there."

As they walked away from the others, something twisted beneath his calm exterior.

I did forget...but how exciting!