Hugo regained consciousness, and the first thing he saw was the burly jailer who had struck them with a wooden club before they had even managed to reach the door of the torture chamber.
The monster was built with both muscle and fat. He wore extremely dirty pants stained with unrecognizable substances, and his torso was bare. A hat made from many scraps of different fabrics completely covered his head, leaving no opening for his eyes or nose. He wasn't very tall, only one or two heads taller than Hugo at most, but that did nothing to make him less intimidating. His figure reminded Hugo of a corrupted, nightmarish version of the school janitor.
At that moment, the monster had his back turned while rummaging through some tools on a worn wooden table. Beside him, Tomás sat in a chair, gagged, his hands and legs tied, his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets.
Hugo tried to move and realized that he was trapped as well, tied to one of those crosses from which other students hung —unconscious... or dead.
The questions that should have crossed his mind didn't.
What is happening? What am I doing here? Why?
He focused on the only thing that mattered to him at that moment: freeing himself and saving Tomás.
He shook his arms, feeling for the knots around his wrists, but they were firm and tightly secured. What he realized wasn't firm was the wood of the right post, which creaked and trembled.
His feet hung in the air, so all the support ended at his wrists—in other words, at the upper posts of the cross, one of which was solid and the other, apparently, not so much.
In a desperate attempt, he raised his legs toward his torso and then brought them down with momentum. The structure supporting him rocked loudly, but the monster ignored it. Hugo tried again, without fearing that he might fall face-first onto the stone floor. In fact, that was exactly what he was trying to do. This time, he directed his momentum diagonally, making the structure sway toward the damaged post. Two more consecutive attempts, and the cross's balance gave way to the movement.
The moment he hit the floor, the right post split in two, freeing his arm but leaving a piece of wood tied to his wrist. At first, the impact didn't affect him too much, but then the weight of the left post did its work and finally slammed him against the floor with the structure on his back.
But there was no time to think about the pain. The jailer had finally decided to pay attention to him.
He got to his feet as best he could, escaping from beneath the structure, and struggled with the knot. But he didn't have enough time.
When Hugo turned around, all he managed to perceive was the gleam of a knife coming down toward him, so he threw himself to the side to dodge it, but when the rope tightened, it prevented him from moving very far. Which was exactly what he needed. The knife grazed his knuckles and cut the rope.
Free from what had been holding him, the force he had been exerting with that arm sent him rolling almost two meters across the floor before he could regain control of his body.
Hugo got back up just in time to see the jailer reaching him, knife raised over his head.
Without thinking much, Hugo made use of what he had at hand: a piece of a wooden plank that was still tied to his right wrist by almost half a meter of rope.
Swinging it toward the monster's chest, the plank was propelled through the air and struck him squarely in the face.
Hugo used the same strategy over and over again, also taking the occasional hit from his improvised weapon on the back or arm when the plank swung back. He paid it no mind.
The jailer took a step backward with every impact, disoriented, and within seconds he was already on the other side of the room, where, upon crashing into the wall, he ended up impaling himself on iron stakes jutting out of it.
Quick and determined to complete his mission, Hugo undid his gag and headed toward Tomás. Only then did he realize that he had been screaming at the top of his lungs throughout the entire fight.
"That was incredible, Hugo," Tomás said when Hugo removed his gag.
Hugo began cutting the restraints on his hands and feet with one of the dozen knives the jailer had on his table.
"It's what heroes do," he replied, still running on adrenaline. "Now we just have to..."
The jailer growled furiously, proving that he was still alive, and pushed himself away from the wall, sending streams of viscous green blood flowing from him.
"Run, Tomás. Find the others and..."
"Don't even think I'm leaving you alone," Tomás told him, positioning himself beside him and wielding the first weapon he found within reach: a rusty pike. "We may not be Dragoon and Cleric, but you've shown me that we don't need to be."
Hugo smiled, preparing to charge the creature again with the wooden plank. But the jailer, furious and determined not to be outmatched by two young boys, growled once more, threw the knife aside, and then used both hands to tear open his own stomach. No blood or guts came out. Instead, an infernal fire emerged, threatening to consume him entirely. As if it were the most normal thing in the world, the jailer thrust his right hand into the fire and then pulled it back out carrying an enormous greatsword made of an amorphous, rust-red metal, wrapped in flames, which he raised menacingly into the air.
"Oh! My dude, I think we'd better both run."
Before Mica unfolded the most grotesque scene he had ever imagined seeing in real life.
Approximately a dozen creatures dressed as teachers danced around a bonfire made from school desks while chanting the strange and unsettling song. Some of the fake teachers raised long wooden poles with faceless children tied to them, the children desperately struggling to break free. In the center of the bonfire, sobbing and screaming for help, was the real Professor Anabel, tied to a support protruding from the fire. The flames were already almost reaching her feet.
Jacob pushed him outside because he had frozen at the sight, blocking the entrance. Professor Levchenko slipped past him and reacted the same way.
"Dear God," he muttered. "This can't be happening." And he began to pray.
Jacob grabbed them both by the arms and pulled them around the bonfire toward the exit of the room.
"Do you want to be next? Move!"
Behind them, the serpentine creature poked its head through the portal they had just abandoned, getting stuck once again and having to use brute force to free itself, buying them some time.
"Caaatch theeem," the false Anabel shouted in her singsong voice, poking herself as best she could through the festival of limbs belonging to the other monster.
At her command, all the false teachers stopped their celebration and turned to look at them, moving only their necks by however many degrees were necessary, with no biological limitations whatsoever. After a second of contemplation, during which the boys advanced only a few more steps, mostly thanks to Jacob's efforts, the false teachers abandoned their positions and charged at them. Those carrying the faceless children dropped them onto the bonfire without a second thought. Although the children made no screams, the real Anabel's were enough to fill the scene and clutch at Mica's heart.
"No! We have to help her!" Mica shouted, trying to pull himself free from Jacob.
"How? How do you expect to help her? You're not Swordsman!"
When Mica continued struggling, Jacob released both of them and continued toward the door.
Mica planted himself in front of the oncoming stampede, only to come to his senses and understand his situation. There was nothing he could do.
With one last look at the teacher, he turned his back on her and followed Jacob as quickly as he could.
"Wait!" he heard just as he reached the door, where Jacob was waiting for him with an alarmed expression.
He turned and saw that it was Professor Levchenko calling him, one hand clutching his chest.
"No... Don't leave me... No."
The professor was no longer running. Rather, he was walking hurriedly, staggering.
Mica took a step forward, but the professor couldn't take two more before collapsing to the floor, breathing heavily.
"Wai... No... Don't..."
Mica didn't know what to do. He wanted to help him, but...
Jacob grabbed him by the arm again and pulled him into a run out of the office. The last image Mica had of Professor Levchenko was of him on the floor, reaching out a pleading hand while a dozen monsters descended upon his body.
The boys ran, Jacob looking in every direction, analyzing the terrain and thinking about his next move. Mica, meanwhile, fought the urge to throw himself onto the floor and cry. He felt terrible. Helpless. Terrified. If only he could have done something. If only...
Accept who you are.
"What did you say?" Mica asked.
Jacob turned to look at him and shook his head.
"I didn't say anything. Stop imagining things and focus. We have to..."
The screams and chants resumed behind them, at the same time that countless running footsteps began echoing from the hallway they had just left.
"This way, let's go," Jacob said, pointing toward the first classroom he found. The science lab.
Mica hurried after him, and the two entered to hide. Inside, Mica expected to find the worktables covered with the instruments they used in class to conduct all kinds of experiments, the shelves filled with materials, the lockers where students left their belongings after putting on their lab coats, and the cages for rodents and reptiles. None of that was there—or perhaps it was. Mica couldn't tell because the inside of the science lab looked as though it had been ravaged by a hurricane.