Silent Cracks

The air inside the cathedral was stifling, thick with unspoken words hanging in the air for days on end. What was once a cohesive team now felt like a collection of strangers bound by necessity rather than trust. Every step closer to the peak of the Tower had taken its toll, carving rifts into their fragile alliance. Jaehyun leaned against the crumbling altar, his sword resting point-down beside him. The stained-glass windows cast fractured patterns of moonlight across the cold stone floor. "We're at eight hundred points," he said, his voice steady (but) distant. "One more haul should be enough." 

Yuri, perched near a broken pew, examined the string on her crossbow with meticulous care. "One more haul," she echoed, her tone laced with skepticism. "Assuming we don't run into something stronger than us-or someone willing to fight dirtier." Minho sat at the edge of the group, sharpening his dagger. The steady scrape of steel against stone punctuated the silence like a clock ticking down toward some unseen deadline. "It's not about fighting dirty," he said without looking up. "It's about fighting smart." But they knew any of them could be undone in an instant. Because, in this place, danger lurked in every shadow, and trust was a fragile thread.

Jiwoo, her katana sheathed (but close) at hand, frowned from her spot near the cathedral's arched doorway. "Smart doesn't always work. The Tower doesn't play fair, and we've been lucky so far: too lucky." The words lingered, echoing in the cavernous space. Seungho sighed, breaking the tension as he stepped closer to Jaehyun. His warhammer was loose in his grip, yet his expression was weighted. "I don't think it's luck that's the problem," he said. "It's us." Jaehyun turned to him, gaze sharp and calculating. "What is that supposed to mean? " "We are falling apart," Seungho replied, steady yet firm. "The way Yuri watches Minho, the way Jiwoo avoids talking to you. The way none of us trust each other anymore." "I trust all of you," Yuri interjected, though her tone was brittle. "It's Minho I don't trust." Minho paused his sharpening, his eyes flicking to Yuri. "I've done what's necessary," he said, his voice calm (but cold). "If that makes you uncomfortable, that's your problem." "Necessary? " Yuri stood, crossbow in hand (though not yet aimed).

"You killed that boy when he was already down.

You call that necessary?

"

The tension snapped tight (like a rubber band), and everyone's eyes turned to Minho. He met Yuri's glare without flinching; however, a chill ran down his spine. This moment felt heavy (almost unbearable) because all eyes were on him. Although he wanted to look away, he stood his ground.

 "Yes," he said simply. Jaehyun raised a hand, his tone firm, cutting through the brewing argument. "Enough. We don't have the luxury of tearing each other apart." "Maybe we should," Jiwoo muttered, her voice low but cutting. "Better now than when it matters most." A heavy silence fell. For a moment, no one spoke. Then, faintly, the sound of footsteps-coming from a distance-reached their ears. The group froze, their instincts sharpening in that instant. Yuri moved to the broken window, peering into the darkness. "Another team," she whispered, voice tight with tension. "They're coming this way." Jaehyun straightened, his grip tightening on the sword. "Positions. Now." The group scattered, the earlier discord forgotten. Yuri took her place at the window, crossbow ready; Jiwoo melted into shadows near the doorway, her katana drawn. Seungho stepped forward, warhammer at the ready, while Minho hung back by the altar, dagger raised and searching for an opening. 

The steps got louder, accompanied by murmured voices.

A group of six entered the cathedral, their weapons glinting in fractured moonlight. They didn't notice Jaehyun's group, waiting behind the pillars. Jaehyun gave the signal-a quick, hand-gesture-and said, "Attack." The ambush was swift & brutal. Yuri's bolt took the first intruder in the throat, silencing him before he could call out. Jiwoo moved like a specter, her katana cutting through two opponents in rapid succession. Seungho's warhammer crushed a third, the impact echoing like a thunderclap. Minho, as always, waited. He watched for the right moment (his movements deliberate and calculating). The moment one of the remaining enemies spun to run, Minho was there, his blade finding its mark. As the last body fell, the group stood in silent eeriness over the aftermath: blood pooling upon the cathedral floor, mingling with dust and decay. "That was too easy," Yuri said, voice tight. "They weren't ready," Jaehyun replied, though his eyes betrayed his unease. "They might not have been, but others will be," Jiwoo said, wiping her blade clean. "We're running out of time." Minho said nothing; his gaze fixed on bodies.

Something about the fight didn't sit right with him, though he couldn't pinpoint why.

As the group regrouped, Yuri's voice broke the quiet. "We can't keep doing this, Jaehyun." Jaehyun turned to her, his expression (somewhat) unreadable. "We don't have a choice." "No," Yuri said, her eyes clamping tight onto Minho. "We do. But some of us have already made theirs." "But we are at nine hundred fifty points now, and with one more kill, we ought to have reached one thousand points," Yuri said. The weight of her words hung in the air, and for the very first time, Minho felt something shift in the group dynamic. It wasn't anger or mistrust-it was deeper. Something that couldn't be undone. Though they moved to leave the cathedral, Minho couldn't shake the feeling this time, it wasn't them, wasn't just the Tower they needed to fear. It was each other.