The fight had been brutal. The demon’s Blood Art wasn’t just strong—it was clever, unpredictable, and utterly relentless. You, Heeseung, Ni-ki, and Sunoo had been caught in its grasp, a strange, unbreakable box pressing you all impossibly close together. Every movement felt like a test of endurance, every breath shallow and shared. You could feel the warmth of Heeseung’s chest against your back, Ni-ki’s cheek smushed against your shoulder, and Sunoo wriggling nervously beside you.

“Tch. This is ridiculous,” Heeseung muttered, his deep voice heavy with frustration. His broad frame pressed against yours, making it almost impossible to shift.

“At least try to be positive,” Sunoo sighed, fidgeting slightly. His hands brushed yours as he squirmed. “We’re not dead… yet.”

Ni-ki groaned loudly, clearly annoyed. “Can you all stop moving?! We’re stuck here, not in some comfy bed!”

Outside, the demon’s cackle echoed, sharp and cruel. “Pathetic. You’re nothing without your swords.”

But not everyone was trapped. Sunghoon had remained hidden, a silent predator in the shadows. His hand rested on his blade, eyes cold and calculating. He observed the scene, his gaze flicking over each of you as though measuring the perfect moment to strike. “Idiots,” he muttered under his breath, disappearing into the darkness to prepare his counterattack.