Dread descended upon them, fear reared its ugly head as the chain's scrapping became louder. With each passing second, their terror grew.
Gary stood paralyzed, stricken with fear. The grating of metal against metal crescendoed. He could feel the noise vibrating through his bones. His injury had long been forgotten. All he could feel was empty foreboding.
His hands stretched towards the doorway as he gazed towards the sole chance of survival. His fingers uncontrollably twitched as he sought to fight whatever power had wrapped tightly around his shivering body.
But to his chagrin, all he achieved was an even greater amount of shaking, despite putting every ounce of willpower he had into his straining muscles.
'Just one... Just one step!' He desperately thought as he begged his useless legs to move. To carry him away from the source of his terror.
'All I need is a single step!'
A bestial growl escaped his lips as he pushed on, fighting his own ligaments that would rather snap from the stress than move an inch. His mind drowned out the straining and pulling of the chain against its restraints, with bloodshot eyes solely focused on the door before him.
It wasn't far. Ten steps, he swore. All he needed to do was take ten steps, and he would be past that wretched doorway. Yet, distance mattered not if he couldn't move a single toe.
As he stood there, a quivering mess of a man, he could swear that the door itself had taken on a life of its own, grinning ear to ear as it teased him with the dream of escape.
It was only natural. Nothing in this castle could possibly hold goodwill for his own kind.
His visage twisted even further with the idea. It was aggravating-- no, enraging. Playing with emotions and tricking others was his thing! He would be damned if he was going to sit frozen in place and await his own death.
No, he was going to move. He had to move. Now, he didn't mind not escaping in time. At the very least, he would take a single step. Just to spite the being responsible.
With his rage fueling him, he renewed his effort with a newfound sense of purpose. He pulled at his glued feet, demanding they leave the floor that had turned into an inescapable quagmire, and with a guttural scream, he lurched forward. And took a step.
It was but a tiny step. One made by a toddler who was just learning how to walk, whose unformed muscles had yet to keep their stance from shaking. But that didn't matter to him. Satisfaction immediately swelled up in his heart, with a sliver of hope forming underneath the fear.
As small as it may be, it proved that he could beat it.
He could win.
He could live.
Gary's heart pounded in his chest as he took another small step forward. Each movement felt like a monumental accomplishment, and he savored the feeling of defiance that came with it.
With each step, his movements became a little more sure-footed, his muscles growing stronger with each push against the force that had held him in place.
The weight that had locked his frame in place seemed to lessen with every moment of success, his lungs finally able to greedily take in the damp air, which now tasted like the fresh wind of spring.
But as he finally approached the doorway, his gaze noticed with trepidation that the gates that were once flung ajar had now begun to slowly shut themselves, eager to take the place of the power that had lost its hold over him.
'No,' he realized with horror. 'Nononono!' His quickened steps slammed against the stone as he pushed forward, but the gates simply matched his increase in speed.
He was close, close enough to feel the wind generated by the gates as they violently swung shut in front of him.
But close wasn't enough.
The doors slammed shut with a thunderous boom, leaving Gary to collide against the metal where a gap once existed.
"Son of a bitch!" he cried out, slamming his fists against the sturdy metal. The gate shook slightly with each impact, but all he achieved was bloodying his knuckles, leaving marks of crimson on its uncaring surface.
his head hung low as he pressed his hands against the door, leaning against it as the adrenaline wore off, and the dull pain from his foot and fists began to appear.
After releasing a turbulent breath, he turned around to face both the chains... and his teammates who he had completely forgotten about.
Though the chains continued to toss and screech, his teammates were in far better shape than he had imagined they would be. Most had begun to recover from their paralyzed state, with Brandus beginning to fully come out of it. The pressure must have been easing on all of them, rather than just himself.
He wasn't sure if having a full team would make much of a difference, though it was still somewhat reassuring.
And now, he could see the current state of the chains.
The rocking of the chains had shed the layers of dust off the chains, the mass in the center swaying back and forth as it lit up the entire room with a warm golden light. Yet, Gary couldn't feel a single hit of heat against his goosebump-covered skin. One chain pulled tighter than the rest from its stake, whose glow was a shade darker compared to its peers.
Its massive frame held the links tightly together, with each piece releasing a high-pitched cry as they were strained to their limits.
Gary looked, feeling rather conflicted about the situation. No matter how you spun it, that same chain was the one he kicked.
"I swear I didn't kick it that hard." He muttered, comfortingly rubbing the necklaces that still remained around his neck.
It wasn't like it was his fault the heroes couldn't make a decent spell.