If there was a hell on Earth, how would it be? Can you imagine it? Surely not, because such a thing doesn't exist— or rather it shouldn't exist...
Listening closely, certain sounds could always be heard.
Having endured this grotesque battleground for weeks, it no longer took much to know exactly what they were.
It was the sound of humans tearing each other apart, all in the name of survival.
And each time a man fell, another sound would follow—A sound that no soul could ever grow used to, no matter how long they endured here—
Crunch… Crunch
The sound of feeding.
Due to the nature of this place, it had earned a name— "The Island of the Rat King."
A fitting title. In a land where food was scarce, even the most moral and unyielding minds eventually bent to the horror of cannibalism.
Every day, the high walls loomed, inescapable, soaked in blood that seemed to drain hope itself from all who longed for freedom.
To survive meant extinguishing another's life—watching their warmth fade, their eyes dim into hollowness.
Here, the act of killing held no weight.
The only thing that mattered was survival.
This was the mindset of most.
But even that could only hold your sanity for so long. Human minds have limits—and here, those limits are tested endlessly.
One by one, people fall prey to hunger, surrendering their humanity just to stay alive.
If this wasn't hell on Earth… then what was?
Though, if there were any small semblance of respite away from this hell, then it had to be the cellars that kept the gladiators before each round.
The cellars were a little further away from the cries of agony and bloodshed, making it the ideal place for some rest...at least for the mind, if not the body.
However, the cellars themselves are no sanctuary either— coming with their own forms of trials as well.
It was now winter, and the cold was unbearable. Cracks in the arena walls were just big enough to let in the chilling wind—but not the freedom that came along with it. The only warmth that came in time to time was the fresh blood that seeped in here.
In the summer, the air choked with heat, and the occasional breeze from the cracks barely helped. Some died from these extremes. But in truth, such deaths were blessings. Better to perish with a shred of humanity than be consumed by hunger.
In one of such cells, a young man—skin stretched tight over bone—fought to stay awake. He knew it would soon be his turn in the blood-soaked arena so he couldn't rest...not now.
A month had passed since he was thrown into this hell. Astonishingly, his sanity still clung to him—even if barely. He had survived on instinct alone, fending off the starving, eating what few critters slipped through the cracks.
It was nothing short of a miracle.
As his mind wandered in a desperate attempt to stay alert, a sharp metallic clatter snapped him back.
The chains that bound the gate were rattling.
It was almost time.
He stayed still, conserving what little strength he had. But something else interrupted him—a sudden vibration rippling through his body.
It took moments to register. At first, he thought it was the tremors of distant combat—But no. They were coming from him.
These tremors had started recently and were becoming more frequent. And for it to happen now was nothing short of fortunate.
Gritting his teeth, he cursed beneath his breath.
'...Damn it! What's this miraculous timing?! If it wasn't bad enough, I'm already skin and bones! Am I about to become meat for those bastards?!'
Frantic, he cursed some more.
'Damn it!'
In the time he was lost in panic, the rattling of chains had also stopped without him noticing.
'...Wait. Why did the clicking stop...?'
Feeling cold sweat trickle down his spine, he turned his head towards the gateway.
It was now open.
And what he saw only made him pale.
The crowd was larger than he imagined—more bodies, more desperate eyes. The arena howled with violence: flesh striking flesh, bones splintering under fists. They weren't just fighting for food anymore—They fought for any reason to live.
He had expected the numbers to shrink by now—hunger, cold, death should have thinned them out. But the opposite had happened.
There were hundreds now.
Gritting his teeth, Cory clenched his trembling fists.
"They're adding more people... How...?"
But suddenly, a sting was felt from his fists.
Looking down, he saw a crimson liquid drip down from his knuckles...it was blood.
As the stinging pain lingered, it cut through his fear and transformed it into anger.
Feeling life's cruelty, its indifference, he cursed.
"Damn it all!"
But before he could curse again, a foul stench assaulted him, forcing him to cover his nose, recoiling from it.
'Ugh… Th-this smell is—?'
The stench of blood was constant here— thick and overpowering. But this...this was worse.
To investigate, he walked out a little and turned towards the source of the smell.
His eyes widened at what he saw.
In a cell a little further away from him...someone was eating.
Bloodied hands, face buried in flesh—consuming what remained of another.
While cannibalism was common here and gruesome as it was, it wasn't the thing that had made Cory's eyes widen.
It was the fact that everyone was more or less in the same wretched state, but this man was different from the rest—He was Massive. Strong. More beast than man.
And Cory—starved, frail—was right beside him.
Feeling his heart drop, he took a few steps back.
'H-how much did this guy eat…?'
The cannibal hadn't noticed him. Not yet.
Moving quietly, instinct screamed—stay low, stay silent.
But then—Crack.
He stepped on something brittle.
A bone.
Frozen in horror, Cory looked back.
But it was already too late.
The cannibal lunged at him.
And without strength to run. No speed to dodge. Cory could only brace himself.
Raising his arms to guard his body as best as he could, the giant's arm swung at him with tremendous force, dropping him to the ground.
An indescribable pain spread across many of his bones, prompting him to scream, yet he couldn't as the pain was too unbearable for him to make a sound.
Only the act of bracing saved his life.
But both arms were broken...and the monster wasn't done.
The giant leapt onto him, and the weight alone crushed his lungs, forcing blood from his mouth.
Organs damaged. Arms destroyed.
His vision dimmed.
'Am I… dying here?'
From the time he spent here at the start, he had fought with all his might. To resist the overpowering temptation to survive by feasting off of others, and to resist from being feasted on.
...And to die here would reduce all he did for nothing.
Just as he was about to drift unconscious, a dark emotion surged within him, causing him to bite his lip to bleed, leading a surge of pain to keep him awake, even if barely.
'A month… I've lasted a damn month! Eating worms, fighting bastards like you… I can't— I won't die like this!'
Driven by raw survival and rage, he felt that he needed to do something...anything, as long as he could live another second.
Gathering the blood in his mouth—and he spat it into the giant's eyes.
A lucky hit.
The cannibal roared, blinded. His attack missed by a hair.
"Argh! You! I'll kill you!"
Stunned by the narrow escape of death, he took a moment to come to his senses.
Cory had seconds.
'Weapon… I need a weapon!'
While the giant was still wiping away the blood off his eyes, Cory darted his eyes around, looking for anything that might pass a weapon, in hopes of protecting him.
After searching like a madman, it was then he saw a sharp object a few inches away from him...it was the bone he had stepped on.
Taking a quick glance, the giant was already slowly regaining his sight, noticing this, he forced his arms to move, putting him in incredible agony.
'Move...Damn it! Move!'
As he reached the splintered bone, the giant had regained his vision, even if not fully and approached again, this time furious.
Attempting to blind him again, Cory spat again,
but this time...he failed—
the beast had blocked it.
With a sneer, the monster raised his arms for the final blow—
It was then, when it felt like time had stopped, this was a chance Cory only had one shot at, while the giant was unguarded, leaving an opening for one lethal attack while being close enough.
With no hesitation, Cory mustered all the willpower to swing his wrecked arms while holding the bone to slit the giant's throat.
The swing of his had used up all the strength he had left, and now he was lying flat on the ground, certain that the giant had died.
But then—A hand reached toward him.
The giant still moved, dragging himself forward.
Eyes wild. Bone in hand.
"If I die… you're coming with me…"
'No... No! Just die already!'
But before the cannibal could strike—he froze.
Mid-motion. He died, but before doing so, he muttered something to Cory.
But the words were broken. Muffled. Lost to pain. He caught nothing but a breath... and a curse.
"…W-what?"
Still trembling, Cory watched for moments longer.
Only when he was sure—did he finally feel a sense of relief washing over him.
And without wasting another moment, he painfully crawled into the nearest cell to rest. It wasn't the safest choice as the cells were death traps if anything found you inside—but in the state he's in now, he could care less. It was better to be hidden and still than exposed and helpless.
As the pain surged through him, he couldn't help but feel a little bit of pity for the unfortunate soul that was caught by giant. If it was anybody else, he might've survived by running, but he was unlucky to have encountered him.
'And I thought my luck was bad...'
Feeling blood clogging up his throat, he took a deep breath in and attempted to spit it out, but suddenly... a blinding pain was felt from his torso, nearly forcing a scream to come out.
It was his damaged ribs.
Doubling over with a groan, he collapsed to the side, with one of his arms hitting the ground.
Feeling the pain in both his chest and arm, he gritted his teeth and suppressed his urge to scream while cursing the giant repeatedly under his breath.
'I swear, if I die… I'll kill you again in the afterlife.'
After the pain had subsided, he laid there to rest while thinking what to do next...but ultimately there was nothing he could do with his battered body even if he thought of anything.
Luckily, this place was underground, and the cellars were entirely dark most of the time if the sun didn't shine through the cracks. So, with much luck, he wouldn't be found as long as he remained still and away from sight.
As long as enough time passed, the remaining cannibals would eventually be sedated with sleeping gas and put back into the cellars, so that the process may continue again. That's how it always went.
'All I have to do is wait...and pray that no one comes in.'
While waiting, many thoughts came and went, but the most prominent one is the memory of the giant's final moments— specifically, the dying words he tried to speak. At first, the fragments seemed meaningless, broken and buried beneath the pain. But after revisiting it over and over, it had pieced itself together.
And it was as insignificant as the way he died.
"You'll never escape."
Trivial as they seemed, the words clung to Cory like a second skin—bitter and heavy.
He had always known, deep down, that escaping this place was impossible. But he'd never dared to say it aloud. As if silence alone could protect him. As if not naming the truth might keep it from becoming real.
But now, with those words spoken, it felt like the last barrier between him and despair had been shattered. In its place it felt like—a curse was in its stead.
Even if he wanted to deny the truth, he couldn't...because for too long he had been running away from this fact and now was the time to face it.
Turning his head, he saw a trail of blood and saw a glimpse of his reflection—wrecked, bruised, starved. Nothing but skin and bones.
There was no way he could survive in this condition. Not like this.
'Maybe there really is no getting out...'
Each breath hurt more than the last. And as he laid there, he also had unpleasant thoughts to say the least, especially after having had to face the truth.
Of such thoughts, the most striking ones were thoughts of how maybe dying now would be easier. Maybe it would be better than dragging his broken body one step further.
'What was the point if death waited at the end anyways?'
As he continued to stare into his reflection, he let out a sigh soft enough to express his grief, but not enough to make his injuries act up.
A cruel contradiction, he thought.
'Dying is the only way out… yet I'm still fighting to live.'
After a few moments of bitterness, he stopped altogether and closed his eyes.
'No point in brooding… I've got to survive another day. Better to spend what strength I have on that.'
He didn't know it then, but when he opened his eyes again—Something would have changed.
Something unexpected.