Gary and the team were thrown off the accelerating chain as it wrenched free from the grip, tossing them flat upon the pitted floor.
The stakes that once held the construct in place were yanked from the ground and sent flying through the room, sinking into the walls and pillars like a stone tossed into the water.
Free from their constraints, the links of chain began to rapidly unravel, whipping themselves through both air and stone in unleashed rage, turning the throne room into a hurricane of chain, stone, and shrapnel.
Gary curled himself into a ball, covering his arms over his cowering head as he lay within the midst of the descending chaos. He could feel shards of stone sink into his exposed skin, leaving oozing red holes across his body. Despite the pain, he could only grit his teeth and curl up even tighter, reducing the surface area that the flying shrapnel could hit.
At least it was just stone bits that had hit him. He would gladly accept a bit of stone lodged in his body if it meant escaping from the links of golden light that destroyed the last remaining pillars and dug themselves through the surrounding walls with relative ease.
If they did find their way to him... Gary got goosebumps at the mere thought. He would be lucky if the aftermath left anything more than a fine red mist to mark his demise.
'Dear Goddess, at least give me the grace to have a tombstone.' He silently prayed, his face twisted in pain and terror underneath his quivering arms.
Uncaring of his pleas, the chain continued its path of destruction, whistling through space as it turned the walls and floor around it into its own personal canvas, carving deep gashes into stone and metal alike.
As the chains destroyed everything in its path, the convulsing mass in the middle began to shrink, unwrapping with every rotation it took. The wind roared in Gary's covered ears, but it did not seem to just come from the chains that soared above him.
No, a faint cry could also be heard from the center of the mass. One that resembled more beast than wind, though it was lost in the turbulent air.
Eventually, the wind that whipped at his injured body began to ebb, with the sound of screeching metal and colliding stone beginning to die down.
Peeking through the little cover his hands had provided, he and the rest of the team cautiously lifted their heads, absorbing the scene of pure destruction that had existed just a moment prior.
While the throne room had been far from its prime, little of its regal nature was left standing. The pillars that once held the high ceiling tall had been erased from existence, with only the bare bases left. Behind them, the metal walls had deep scars that zigged and crossed upon themselves, with the eerie statues now clumps of deformed metal... well, even more deformed than originally designed, with the culprits laying limp and dull across the vast hall.
Though it was surely tragic for the demons who once worshipped this place, Gary felt none of their loss at the site. If anything, it was a decorational change that he very much approved of.
What he did not approve of was the clearly shrunken ball of chains, whose scattered gray ends lay lifeless upon the ground. The golden light had all but left its surface, now resembling its prior appearance.
"...This is bad, right?" Gary asked while gawking at the site, watching as parts of the chain began to break off and dissolve into faint motes of light, returning the millennia-old spell to intangible mana.
"I-I can't imagine it being GOOD." Shasa snapped.
"You know, he has been in there for who-knows-how-long. Maybe, I mean-- what if he starved to death?"
Right as the words left his mouth, he noticed a faint noise. One reminiscent of dripping water hitting stone. Black, viscous liquid oozed from the growing gaps in the chain prison, staining the side of its gray surface as it dripped down to the floor, creating a quagmire of dark, sticky fluid below.
His face took a new look once he noticed its source was the same as the current subject, turning into one of twisted fear and nihilistic resignation. It was proof enough that the worst would come.
His unwilling ears could hear the droplets hitting the ground with a 'plink', followed by sizzling as the stone around it was dissolved by the apparent corrosive. With every inch it spread, the more Gary realized that his death had gotten even closer. Counting down to when he himself was submerged by black, dying during some foolhardy quest, as so many of his fellow adventurers had.
That thought pained him, thinking that his fate would be the same as the majority. But worst of all about this countdown, was that he couldn't do a thing to stop it.
"Well," He sighed, staring into space as he emptily spoke. "I got nothin."
The entire team looked back with differing expressions, though none of them were pleasant.
"I got nothing. I'm trying to think of something. I really am. But that-" He gestures, despairingly pointing to the center of the room. "I got nothing for that."
The reception of his admittance proved rather poor, giving him less than pleasant expressions before they slowly spread out amongst the room.
"I'll take the front... I guess." Alfred muttered, heaving his shield over his shoulder as he dragged his feet forward.
Edwin let out a deep, vocal groan as he silently cast [Camouflage]. A muffled 'I'll provide support' floated past their ears, the source of the sound masked by the spell.
Shasa marched herself to the back left of the rest, shaking her staff as she stretched her arms.
Gabriel sat in the far back, his hands tightly wrapped around a small silver bell as he unblinkingly gazed at the center.
Brandus also unslung his claymore, squaring his feet as he held his sword aloft over his head.
After a few moments, he turned to face Gary.
"I don't think any of us know what do." Brandus softly whispered, eyeing the despondent expressions of the others. "But we do know how to fight. At the very least, we can fight for survival."
"A fight for survival, eh? That does sound a bit better. Though I would prefer wearing armor that doesn't look like some bastard took a chunk out of the middle."
"Hey, you deserved it at the time." Brandus' eyebrow raised a notch as he defended himself.
"...Fair enough." Gary eased. However, that did nothing to reduce his worries.
Ignoring his newly-acquired accessories, his equipment was in a shoddy state. The little spat he and his team had left his clothing almost unsalvageable, with chunks of leather hanging loosely from his body. And what little plating he wore had been split across the chest, leaving an obvious hole above his heart. In battle, it was a clear way to end an opponent's life. All it was missing was 'This is my weak spot!' painted across his chest with an arrow pointing to it.
Hearing Brandus speak again, Gary was pulled out of his dejected appraisal.
"You know... You could always try talking to it."
Gary blinked a few times, unsure of what he had heard.
"Excuse me?"
"You can try to talk to it," Brandus explained. "Might not change anything, but at this point, it's worth a shot."
Gary realized what was happing with a slight grin. Not one of any real mirth. But a grin, nonetheless. It wasn't like he hadn't considered it. Talking was definitely one of his stronger points, but he had a feeling that such a skill wouldn't help him out in the current situation.
But still— if we was going to die either way —it would be a fun thing to try...
Who knows? Maybe the Demon King is a bit more of a chatter than he is giving him credit for.
"Lying to the Demon King..."
"TALKING to the Demon King." Brandus emphasized.
"There ain't much of a difference, if you want to get out of here."
"Fine." Brandus relented. A fact Gary couldn't help but relish a little. "But make it believable... and try to be more creative. Trust me, that is one of your lie's weak points."
"Don't worry Brandus," Gary brushed him off, clearing his throat like a seasoned actor as he began to walk forward. "After all, I do take pride in my craft."
The art of lying was all about psychology.
And no one was going to beat him at psychology!