NOVEL NEXT Chapter 34: Tension
With a roar of fury, Joseph—his silver armor gleaming in the firelight—unsummoned his sword and seized Jenna by the collar of her black tank top.
"Why the fuck did you leave her alone?" he shouted, his voice raw with rage.
Jenna writhed in his grasp, but before she could speak, the Grey Monk stepped forward.
His spear materialized in a shimmer of light, its gleaming point leveled just inches from Joseph's throat. He said nothing. His glare burned brighter than the flames around them, green eyes blazing beneath the shadows cast on his bald, slick scalp.
Then James moved in.
He placed a hand on the Monk's shoulder, not to restrain him, but to show power; his grip was iron-tight.
"Go ahead," James muttered, voice low and venomous. "Give me a reason."
Blythe stood frozen, still reeling from the sight of her friend's hands lying cold in the sand, severed and twitchless. Her mouth opened, but no words came.
Damien stood silently beside her, watching the confrontation unfold. After a beat, he reached down, gently taking her hand, and began walking them toward the others.
She followed, eyes still locked onto where her friend had been.
As they neared the group, Blythe suddenly tore her hand away, and her gaze fell onto Joseph.
"Joseph, put her down!" she screamed, voice cracking as tears poured down her face. "If you need someone to blame, blame me! I left them too!"
For a brief moment, Joseph and Blythe locked eyes. His gaze burned with anger, while hers held only worry. After a tense pause, Joseph finally released his grip and set Jenna down.
She wrapped her arms tightly around her shivering frame and muttered, "Douche," under her breath.
The Grey Monk's spear dissolved into a wash of golden light, and James let go of his shoulder. Stepping forward with open arms, he tried to comfort Jenna, but she brushed past him without a word and crossed straight to Damien's side.
The Monk's expression twisted, just for a heartbeat, something sharp and possessive flashing through it, like a cat scorned. Joseph, too, glanced toward Damien, jealousy flickering behind the tight set of his jaw, as Blythe remained standing close beside him.
Uncomfortable with the attention, Damien cleared his throat. The cold air swept past him in a sudden gust, ruffling his hair and lifting it just enough to expose the crown of thorns etched in ink-black shimmer across his scalp.
Eyes narrowed around him.
Shit.
It wasn't the worst outcome.
For one, it shifted attention away from the chaos that had just unfolded. And more importantly, most of them had no idea what the crown was or how he'd come to possess it. Only Jenna and the Grey Monk knew the truth, or at least, fragments of it. But even abnormalities like this invited questions and suspicion, neither of which he could afford right now.
James opened his mouth to speak, but Joseph got there first.
"What the hell is that?"
Jenna and Blythe, flanking Damien on opposite sides, both turned and gasped when they caught sight of it.
He stood still, mind racing. There were a dozen ways he could play this, fabricate a lie, invent a noble story, even spin a half-truth, but one thought nagged at him:
If I lie... what if my ability makes me forget? What if this crown becomes important later, and I can't remember what's real?
Then again, telling them he earned it by killing a mimic version of himself would only make things worse. A dead mimic that branded him with a cursed mark? He might as well paint Do not trust me on his chest.
He was at a crossroads.
So, he chose something rare, something bold.
He told part of the truth.
Damien looked up, as if trying to see the crown himself, feigning distant curiosity.
"Oh, this?"
James scoffed. "What the hell else would we be talking about?"
Damien chuckled softly.
His eyes flicked to Jenna, who looked deeply uneasy, then back to James, the Monk, and Joseph. Oddly, the Grey Monk showed no reaction; his expression had already returned to stone.
"After I killed the orange demon Jenna mentioned, I received this." He gestured vaguely to the crown. "I'm not sure what it does. It's just... cold, and kind of sitting there."
There was a pause, tension hovering like mist in the air.
And yet, to his surprise, Damien felt a strange relief in telling the truth, at least some of it. No pain, or punishment from the shackle wrapped tight around his soul.
Maybe honesty, in small doses, had its perks.
James glanced at Joseph, then sneered, "This guy shows up claiming someone would betray us, and now this? We can't trust him."
Joseph snapped back without hesitation, his voice sharp with lingering fury. "Someone did betray us! I don't give a damn about that crown on his forehead."
Damn it, Damien thought. They think this was the betrayal.
He took a breath and stepped forward, letting his hair fall back into place over the crown. His voice stayed calm.
"It doesn't matter. What does is the next eighteen hours or so. At this point, even if someone else accepts the system's offer, we likely won't get the reward, but losing more people will only make survival harder."
He couldn't check the timer.
Looking at his runes would only raise suspicion, but he could feel time slipping away. And even as unlikely as it was, he couldn't have James accepting the offer before he got the chance to slit his throat.
Joseph gave a bitter laugh and shook his head. "You're right. Fine. No one wanders off. Everyone stays close, and your arms stay visible at all times."
Blythe spoke up, her voice cracking slightly.
"I don't think anyone here's dumb enough to gamble again. Riley was terrified ever since Bailey and Christine died."
"I don't care!" Joseph barked, then sat heavily by the fire, the embers flaring at his feet.
James followed, and Grey Monk returned to his usual silence, settling beside them.
Jenna lingered behind. Her voice dropped low, just loud enough for Damien to hear.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Damien turned to her, brow furrowed, and whispered as he, Jenna, and Blythe moved to sit.
"Would you have?"
So here they were—the Cohort, sitting in a tense, freezing, silent night.
How fun.