Shwaaaaa - Rumble! Caw- Caw!

The relentless downpour intensified, thunder growling fiercely as lightning cracked the sky. To make matters worse, crows cawed ominously, amplifying the dreary atmosphere of the space. This backdrop dramatically heightened the tension between the divided groups—the minority and the majority, now locked in bitter opposition.

All eyes turned to the lone woman standing before the altar: Seol Ara.

The Luck stat she'd acquired on Dungeon Floor 11 sat at 50. Of course, it hadn't started that high. Back when she first got it, the value was just 10. But Pierre had advised her early on to invest bonus stat points into Luck whenever she got them. No need to go all-in, he'd said, but getting it up to 50 would be wise. Seol Ara immediately used her stockpile of stat point vouchers—five low-grade ones worth 1 point each and six mid-grade ones worth 3 points each—securing a total of 23 points and dumping them all into Luck. From then on, every additional point she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠earned on the way here went straight there too, pushing it to 50.

Once the Luck stat kicked in, critical hits triggered more often when she used skills. Loot from monsters increased in quantity, treasure chests yielded richer hauls than before, and enemy attacks missed her with surprising frequency. It was like small strokes of luck followed her every day.

But this time...

...this was the first time a message like that had appeared, explicitly promising clear fortune. It was a rare critical effect from the Luck stat. As a result, Seol Ara drew the golden stone.

Then an achievement window popped up.

An unexpected achievement and item for Seol Ara. She quickly opened her inventory. There it was—the Stat Rental Ticket from the achievement reward. Focusing on the rectangular card-shaped item brought up its info window.

After reading the description, Seol Ara's first thought was, 'Will I ever have a use for this?'

It's not that people crave jewels—jewels make people crave them. Even the greedless grow possessive once a gem falls into their hands. Best not to create even a sliver of potential conflict.

The gazes of both factions—the minority and majority—locked onto Seol Ara. More precisely, onto the golden stone in her hand. No one knew what it meant.

Then a brilliant light erupted from the altar. The radiant glow coalesced in midair, morphing into unfamiliar letters. As always, they translated naturally into each person's native language.

Seol Ara read the glowing words unfolding in the air.

Andra Marshall read the words and immediately tried to manipulate Ishihara Yui and Red to attack the group. But...

"You bastard, trying to hypnotize me?"

"......Damn."

His skill forcibly deactivated. Yui gnashed her teeth and swung a fist at Andra. It was obvious— that iron punch would smash his head like a watermelon.

But.

Thud.

Her fist halted inches from his face. Andra's hypnosis broke suddenly, and Yui's attack was blocked in midair. As both sensed something off, the glowing letters shifted.

Now the blade was in Seol Ara's hands.

Feeling uneasy, Jonathan Yombi raised his voice desperately.

"A-Ara! You know, right?"

Seol Ara chuckled softly.

"You must've been exhausted acting all this time. It was so convincing, I almost thought it wasn't an act."

Jonathan sighed in relief, patting his chest.

"Haaa."

Andra, overhearing, widened his eyes and glared at Jonathan.

"Acting? It was all... acting?"

His voice brimmed with unspeakable disappointment and rage, like he'd been backstabbed by his one true ally.

"Why?"

"Why what? I was pretending to be on your side just to get a shot at your neck! ...Though Yui and Red kept blocking me—no real openings."

In truth, even betraying a comrade, Jonathan had hesitated at actual murder.

Andra's eyes widened further at his words.

"You pulled that crap in a life-or-death situation? You drew the black stone anyway—you were doomed!"

Then Pierre Rasbon interjected.

"No. No matter who drew black, if they joined the plan, I'd swap my white stone with theirs. That was the play's condition."

Dennis Cobitt the priest raised his hand calmly.

"I too promised to trade my blessed stone for any brother or sister cursed with a black one."

Andra tilted his head.

"That's weird."

They'd had no time or signs of coordinating such a plan. Then Kayla Aleksandrov's voice echoed in his mind.

-I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠passed on Pierre and Father Dennis's intentions for you~ You couldn't hear, so you didn't know, right?

Come to think of it, right after drawing white, Pierre had stood with Kayla and Dennis flanking him. They'd schemed behind Andra's back.

Still, something didn't add up.

"What if four people drew black?"

"No time to plan that far."

Pierre was lying. In reality, he'd colluded with Dennis via Kayla to prepare for Andra and Jonathan drawing black. Pierre's eye for people was unmatched. Among the 20 survivors, no one would side with Andra the psycho. But Jonathan was shaky. The "safety net" plan was really to lock him in—no betrayal possible.

Andra glared at Pierre like he wanted to tear him apart.

"It went your way. So what now? Gonna ask Ara to sacrifice me and you?"

Seol Ara's voice cut between them.

"Is that your last words?"

Andra twisted toward her slightly, a warped smile on his lips.

"Last words, huh. Not expecting apologies anyway. Might as well say what I want."

He scanned the group with eerie eyes.

"Everyone's worked so hard living hypocritically. Of course your own life comes first—why hide it so desperately? In the end, cornered, you'll all turn selfish."

His expression grew hazy, lost in memory.

"Before the dungeon, I was on the run from cops. Killed seven people. Not without reason—they pissed me off. The 'haves,' y'know? Society's farters. I had nothing, so they treated me like dirt. Trash personalities pretending to be refined. I kidnapped 'em, tortured 'em. Wonder if they could keep up the act."

His smile deepened as the tale continued.

"In the end, they all begged for life, doing whatever I said. That's human nature. Life on the line, no different from beasts—submitting to the strong. Exactly that face. So..."

His eyes snapped back to reality.

"I wanted to torture you like that. You're the bravest here, more loyal than the guys. Curious how long you'd keep the mask, what you'd look like without it. Shame."

He shrugged.

Seol Ara endured the nauseating "testament," viewing it as his final words. She met each person's eyes one by one. They nodded, supporting her resolve. Even Mitchell Hoff's nod came last.

"The first sacrifice is Andra Marshall."

Her tongue was an iron mace, sealing his fate. No issue there. Even accounting for his Floor 11 behavior, his selfish karma and confessed serial killings left no room for mercy.

Andra fell silent, seemingly resigned.

The problem was next: the second sacrifice.

Pierre and Dennis exchanged silent looks, ready to accept whichever she chose. At this point, debating future utility was pointless. Their minds aligned: 'We stopped the infighting—that's enough.'

Imagining failure with Jonathan was nightmare fuel. In the worst case, one life for peace was a win. Unburdened, they contrasted the others' rising anxiety. Who would she pick? No easy choice.

"The second sacrifice is—"

Seol Ara raised her index finger, moving it slowly. Then Irene Luker shot her hand up.

"Ara! ...Pick me."

As Pierre and Dennis reeled from Irene's sudden move...

"Tch. Realistically, I should go."

Josh McConnell raised his hand too.

"No! I'll do it. I've only been helped till now. Time to return the favor."

Lisa Simpson followed, voice breaking.

Then others chimed in, volunteering en masse.

Watching, Jonathan wiped tears, cursing.

"Damn it, why's everyone like this! I'll go! I drew the black stone first anyway!"

Andra stared in utter incomprehension.

"Why the hell... Death ends it all."

"People can't live purely rationally. Pure logic without emotion? That's more robot than human."

With that, Seol Ara's finger pointed somewhere.