"That's what I've been trying to tell you all this time, and it's crazy because I didn't just end up in hell—this is the seventh layer!!!"
"Circle*"
"Yeah, 'circle' I don't care, man. What do we do? Is there like an administrator we can go and talk to?"
"First off, you're using 'we' a lot; let's take it down a notch. Secondly, there's no turning back from this, at least not until we've scaled this dumb mountain."
Mount Vocaghter looked down in mockery at Quentin, its jagged edges sticking out like thorns, and the magma that flowed from different crevices gave it a beautiful look.
The counter dropped down into the five-minute range just as the duo were nearing a new step in the death race. The centaurs that trailed behind the group had discarded the whips they held and in their place shiny twin blades.
They whooped and sneered as the timer went down to the last minute, the idea of what was to come fuelling their deranged celebrations.
As Quentin and Eagon advanced to the next step, Quentin realised the errors in his assumptions.
There were at least half a dozen different people littered on the floor, writhing in pain and anguish. Some with busted kneecaps or severed lower limbs, others with twisted faces bludgeoned in ways Quentin couldn't wrap his head around, but alive nevertheless.
It was a gruesome sight to behold; his belly quivered as they walked past the scene, balls of sweat matted across his forehead, all while Eagon kept his usual indifferent reaction, his eyes to the front as he walked through the step.
Just as the timer went down to 10 seconds, Quentin and Eagon hopped into the next level, leaving behind the unfortunate souls. His whole world had been turned upside down, and he knew in that moment, evil was not a trait inherent to the human race.
The timer turned to 0.
Quentin had been happy before. He knew how joyful he was whenever his mom came back home with ice cream, and how thrilled he was when he found out about the cruise to America.
But all those moments compressed together into one still paled in comparison to the joy the centaurs felt as they ran through the creatures on the lowest step.
Killing.
Slicing.
Making mockery of the poor fuckers that had the misfortune of being unfortunate.
The victims were toyed with, and Quentin couldn't do anything but watch. His powerlessness coming into full play and rage building in his heart.
"You had better continue on with your journey, Quentin boy. It's difficult enough as it is, and you really do not want the attention you seek," Eagon said as he walked right by Quentin.
"Take a look at the timer; you've not escaped your own hell, so what gives you the right to feel bad for someone else?"
Quentin looked up at the fiery numbers that illuminated the dark skies.
What was once 0:00 and marked the death of those poor souls was now 1:48, trickling down with every second. A new countdown had begun, and Quentin was a long way from being safe.
He was too weak to give any honest reactions. This wasn't what he expected.
But what did he really think would happen? He'd conquer a place worse than hell with grit and will?
Eagon continued to walk, with no signs of panic in his body. Quentin's faith in the Phoenix was beginning to falter, as he truly did not want to die—not for a second time.
Once the centaurs were done with the onslaught and every last living thing had been killed, the whipping centaur, seemingly addicted to the exhilarating sensation of genocide, emerged from behind to confront the pair once more.
The fur on his body was thickly covered with blood, and he wore the biggest grin ever as he walked straight up to Eagon, ignoring Quentin as if he were invincible.
"You're not in a hurry, are you Eagon?" He said, taunting him. "You are hoping to be dead last when that counter drops to zero, aren't you?"
'What's with these nut jobs and laughing when nothing is funny?' Quentin thought to himself.
"Are you going to taunt us all through our accent?" Eagon replied.
The laughter vanished from the centaurs lips and was replaced by a cruel sneer. Eagon realised his mistake. He had inadvertently made it known to the centaur that he and Quentin were some sort of duo, which in turn meant Quentin was fully aware of all that was going on.
Quentin had been paying attention to the conversation, and when Eagon made reference to him, his heart skipped a beat. He had been made, his cover blown to bits.
Wincing in pain, he tried to quicken up his pace, aiming to get as much distance as possible from the two.
The centaur had fire in his eyes as he galloped after Quentin.
Using its forelegs, it kicked Quentin with such force that it sent him flying across the rocky step and tumbling into a messy heap.
"You? Of all the creatures, you had to be the one to break out of the spell!?"
The centaur bared onto Quentin's sword, catching the reflection of the lava that flowed from both sides of the step. Stones crumbled underneath its mighty hooves as it walked, and with every step it took, the gap between him and his prey shortened.
The fear gripped Quentin, clawing at his throat with sharp claws. He tried crawling away, his bruised fingers screaming at him in pain. He hurled stones and rocks aimlessly, trying frantically to get away from the whipping centaur, but it was all to no avail.
With all the ruckus Quentin was throwing up, it was no surprise to Eagon that it drew the attention of other centaurs, which meant certain doom.
They came like moths to a flame, circling around Quentin in some sort of humiliation ring.
"A human?"
"A human broke out of Juron's spell."
"No way! Let me see."
"I call dibs on his head! I'll love to see what's all up in there.
As the centaurs argued among themselves about who got what of Quentin's body, his eye met Eagon's. The seasoned Phoenix, with half its body burnt, was filled with pity for the young human he had just met moments before.
Eagon mouthed off some words, inaudible to Quentin as he lay half dead on the ground. Without help, he couldn't handle this many centaurs, and even if he could, he couldn't do it in his weak state.
"You said you'd be the one to kill me, remember?" The whipping centaur asked as he shoved his blade deep into Quentin's calf.
Blood splurged out of the wound as Quentin released a blood-curling scream, the tears that streamed out of his eyes now wetting the ground beneath him.
"KILL ME!! Come on, you said you would, didn't you? Thought you were the man? Mr., if I want it bad enough, I'll get it? -" stab! The centaurs blade went through his second calf.
Quentin lay sprawled out on the ground, a bloodied mess, as the centaur tortured him. He felt the life force draining from his body. Whatever this nightmare was, he was over it.
The watching centaurs still cheered on. The timer had gone down to zero, and Quentin knew it was done. Relief flushed through his system as he saw the whipping centaur smirking a wicked grin with his sword raised high, aiming right at Quentin's chest.