The Betrayal in the Dungeon

Azrael's heart pounded as the eerie glow on the stone tablet began to fade. For a moment, the room fell into an unsettling silence. The menacing knight statues, once frozen like lifeless sentinels, stood motionless around them, their weapons ready to strike at the slightest provocation.

Then, just as the last flicker of light left the tablet, new words appeared, engraved as if by an invisible hand.

"Deliver a sacrifice."

Azrael's breath caught in his throat. His fingers trembled as he traced the ominous words, his mind racing to understand what they meant. A sacrifice? He swallowed hard, his stomach twisting in fear.

"What's wrong?" Mike's voice cut through the silence, sharp with urgency.

Azrael hesitated, but he knew there was no point in hiding it. "It says… it says we need to deliver a sacrifice."

The moment those words left his mouth, the tension in the room changed. Everyone's eyes widened, dread sinking into their bones like an anchor pulling them into the abyss.

Mike blinked, his expression unreadable at first. Then, slowly, his brows furrowed. Confusion turned into something else—something darker.

"A sacrifice…?" Mike muttered.

Azrael nodded, feeling the sweat gather on his palms.

Mike fell into deep thought, his gaze shifting toward Azrael. And then, an idea formed in his mind—an idea so cruel yet so simple that it felt almost natural.

Azrael.

The useless one.

The weak link.

The one who had led them into this cursed place.

Mike's lips curled into a twisted smirk, as if the decision had already been made.

"It should be you."

Azrael stiffened. "W-what…?"

"You heard me." Mike's voice was steady, eerily calm. "You found this damn door. You brought us here. You've done nothing but slow us down this entire time. You're the reason we're stuck in this nightmare."

Azrael's blood ran cold. "Wait… you can't be serious…"

Mike stepped forward, his tone growing harsher. "And what exactly do you bring to the team, huh? Strength? No. Skills? No. You're just dead weight."

Azrael clenched his fists. His mind was screaming, telling him this had to be a joke. But when he looked at Mike's face, he saw nothing but conviction.

Anna's voice trembled. "Mike… we can't—"

Azrael called with desperation. "Anna... please don't leave me here".

She replied. "I won't, Mike... we can't leave him here".

"We don't have time for this!" Mike snapped. His eyes darted toward the statues. The air in the room was growing heavy again, the knights beginning to shift. Their stone limbs creaked as they prepared to strike.

Time was running out.

Mike turned back to Azrael, his expression hardening. "You said it yourself. We need a sacrifice. If it's not you… then who?"

Azrael couldn't breathe. He turned to the others, searching for some kind of support. But the looks on their faces told him everything.

None of them would stand up for him.

Then, in an instant, Mike moved.

Before Azrael could react, Mike grabbed Anna and bolted toward the exit. The rest of the team followed without hesitation, their survival instincts overpowering whatever guilt they might have felt.

Azrael reached out. "Wait—DON'T LEAVE ME!"

His voice echoed through the dungeon, but it was too late.

They were gone.

The heavy stone door slammed shut behind them with an earth-shaking thud, sealing him inside.

Alone.

Abandoned.

Azrael's body trembled. His breath came in short, ragged gasps as his mind desperately tried to process what had just happened.

He had been betrayed.

He looked around, but there was no escape. The towering knight statues were already moving toward him, their hollow eyes glowing with an eerie blue light. Their armor groaned with each step, their weapons gleaming under the dim torchlight.

One of them reached out, its massive stone hand grabbing Azrael by the throat.

He gasped, struggling against the crushing grip, but it was useless. The knight lifted him into the air as if he weighed nothing and slammed him down onto a cold, stone altar. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs, his vision blurring for a second.

Azrael tried to move, but the knights held him down. Stone hands pinned his arms and legs, keeping him completely immobilized.

Above him, the King's Statue loomed, its carved face twisted into an eternal, menacing grin.

The knights surrounding him raised their swords. Their edges gleamed wickedly, waiting for the king's silent command to strike.

Azrael's heart pounded in his chest.

This was it.

This was how he would die.

Not in battle.

Not as a hero.

But as a sacrifice.

He clenched his teeth, his body trembling. His mind spiraled into chaos, memories flashing before his eyes.

All his life, he had been weak. He had always been the one left behind, the one people ignored, the one others abandoned.

And now, in his final moments, it was happening again.

Tears welled up in his eyes as despair clawed at his soul. He had never been special. Never been strong. Never been worth saving.

The knights' swords descended.

Azrael squeezed his eyes shut, his body tensing for the inevitable.

Then, in his final moment, he screamed—

"I am always weak, no one appreciate me, I hate this, I hate this… If only I could get a second chance!"

The words tore from his throat, raw and filled with agony.

A split second later—

Everything went black.

Silence.

Stillness.

And then…

Something awoke.