Phased out

Karlos took a slow breath, steadying himself as he carefully wedged Unguibus' claws between the two metal rods at the edge of the bridge.

The metal groaned slightly, but the claws held firm.

Ethan tightened his grip around them with one arm, his fingers clenching instinctively.

"Alright, Karlos," Ethan muttered. "Careful."

Karlos gave a small nod before lowering himself.

His boot slipped off the bridge's surface, landing on a thin slab of metal just beneath.

His balance wavered.

For the first time, he was outside the bridge.

Suspended. Vulnerable.

He looked down.

And instantly regretted it.

DARKNESS.

A black abyss, so deep, so vast, it felt limitless.

The air felt heavier.

His breath caught in his throat.

The red lights above him flickered faintly, but not a single speck of light touched the void below.

It wasn't just dark. It was empty.

A vast, devouring blackness that felt wrong.

Like something was waiting in it.

Watching.

And if he fell—

There would be no ground to stop him.

Just an endless descent into nothingness.

Karlos froze.

His body stiffened, his breath caught somewhere deep in his throat.

That darkness.

It wasn't just below him—it felt like it was pulling him in.

Like if he stared for too long, it would consume him.

His fingers trembled slightly against the cold, rusted metal. His grip—loose, slippery.

Sweat.

His palms were damp. Too damp.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and for a second—**a horrible second—**he felt his footing waver.

Then—

"KARLOS!!"

Ethan's voice cut through the void.

Karlos' head snapped up, eyes wide.

The suffocating fear cracked just slightly—just enough.

His hands clenched tighter.

He was still here.

Still on the bridge.

Still breathing.

Karlos exhaled sharply, shaking off the weight pressing against his chest.

"I'm good," he muttered. "I'm good."

But Ethan wasn't convinced.

His grip on the claw tightened.

"Don't bullshit me," Ethan said, his voice steady but edged with concern. "You almost slipped."

Karlos sighed.

Ethan was right.

One second longer in that abyss, and his hands might've given out completely.

But he wasn't about to let that happen.

Not now.

Karlos adjusted his grip, steadying himself.

Then, with a small, forced smirk—

"Guess I just needed a dramatic pause."

Ethan rolled his eyes.

But he didn't let go.

And for now—that was enough.

Karlos' breath was uneven.

His fingers clenched and unclenched around the belt, his grip weak from the sweat gathering on his palms.

The bridge above him felt too far already.

The abyss below? Far too close.

He could still hear Ethan, still feel the pressure of his presence above, keeping the claw steady. That was the only reason he hadn't slipped already.

But still—his mind wouldn't shut up.

"Don't look down."

"Don't look down."

"Don't look down."

"Don't look down."

"Don't look down."

"Don't look down."

"Don't look down."

"Don't look down."

He repeated it over and over again, forcing his body to obey.

His foot shifted carefully, sliding across the rusted surface of the bridge as he positioned himself. The belt was wrapped tightly around the other end of the claw, looped several times to ensure it wouldn't slip.

Karlos' breathing slowed as he tested the knot.

"It's tight!" he called out.

Ethan, gripping the claw's base firmly, responded with a steady, confident voice.

"Good! Everything here is secure as well!"

Karlos nodded.

He didn't want to do this anymore. Every inch of his body screamed at him to stop.

But there was no turning back.

His fingers clenched the belt tightly. He gritted his teeth, exhaling sharply as he lifted one foot off the thin slab of metal.

The second his weight shifted, his palm slipped slightly from the belt.

"FUCK!!"

His stomach lurched. His body instinctively tensed, his grip tightening before he could fully lose it.

Ethan's head snapped downward, his grip tightening on the claw.

"YOU GOOD?!" Ethan's voice came out sharp, not too loud, but filled with urgency.

For a second, Karlos couldn't even answer.

His breath was ragged. His heart thundered.

But then—he swallowed, forcing his voice to stay steady.

"YEAH… ALL… GOOD."

His arms trembled slightly from the adrenaline as he forced himself to stay still for a second.

One deep breath.

Then another.

And then—his other foot left the slab.

Now, he was fully hanging by the belt and claw.

The realization settled in.

He was dangling over a void that shouldn't exist.

The thought nearly made him laugh.

Instead, he exhaled and muttered under his breath—

"Ethan… your belt better be good quality and expensive."

Karlos hung mid-air, gripping the belt tightly.

His body swayed slightly, the cold metal pressing against his palms. His muscles tensed under the strain, but he forced his breathing to stay steady.

This was nothing.

"Yeah, I can do a one-arm pull…" he muttered under his breath.

A reassurance. A reminder.

"Yeah, I can…"

"I can, I think."

"I have to."

The void beneath him seemed to pulse, as if waiting for him to fail. But Karlos ignored it. He scanned his surroundings, eyes darting across the underside of the bridge, looking for anything—

Then—

BINGO.

The rule book was right there.

Not even hidden. Not tucked away. Just lying beneath the bridge.

Ethan's hunch was right.

Karlos grinned.

"ETHAN!" he called out, his voice echoing slightly.

A second later, Ethan's voice shot back. "YEAH?!"

Karlos' heart pounded with excitement as he responded:

"I FOUND IT!!"

For a second, there was silence.

Then—

Ethan's voice, cheerful and relieved: "THAT'S GREAT! WAIT, LET ME HELP YOU!"

Karlos exhaled sharply, the tension in his chest easing slightly.

Above him, Ethan adjusted his grip. His right hand stayed firm on the claw, holding it in place, while his left hand extended downward, reaching toward Karlos.

Karlos shifted slightly, repositioning his grip on the belt.

The bridge creaked faintly above, but he ignored it.

He stretched upward—

His fingertips brushed against Ethan's—

Then—got a firm grip.

Ethan clenched his hand tightly.

Karlos grinned.

For the first time since arriving in Phase 1, things were actually going their way.

Karlos adjusted his footing, his boots pressing against the thin metal support where the rule book had been hidden.

His left hand shot forward, gripping the worn, folded pages of the book.

"Let's GO!"

His voice echoed with pure relief and triumph. After ten exhausting minutes of searching, they had finally found it.

A rare victory.

Ethan grinned from above. Karlos had every reason to feel good. For once, something had actually gone their way.

But now came the final step—getting back up.

Karlos shifted his weight carefully, adjusting his grip on the belt. His fingers curled around it tightly as he looked up at Ethan.

"Alright, let go of my hand," he said. "I'll climb back up."

Ethan hesitated. "Are you sure you can climb back up?"

Karlos scoffed, flashing a confident smirk. "Yeah, don't worry."

Ethan exhaled. He didn't fully believe him, but he let go.

And then—

The second Karlos' full weight returned to the belt—

Something shifted.

A faint creak.

A slow, unsettling slip.

The belt moved.

Just slightly—but enough for Karlos to feel it.

His stomach dropped.

His fingers twitched. His entire body froze.

For a split second, it was as if the world held its breath.

And then—

Ethan noticed.

His eyes snapped downward, his heart instantly pounding against his ribs.

"Fuck—Karlos, is everything good?!"

His voice was sharp—laced with fear.

Karlos couldn't answer.

He couldn't breathe.

The belt wasn't tight anymore.

It wasn't secure.

And he could feel it.

The slow, sickening looseness—the terrifying realization that his lifeline might not hold.

His grip was tight. But was it tight enough?

For the first time, the void below felt closer than ever.

And he didn't know if Ethan could pull him back in time.

Karlos' heart slammed against his ribs.

His breath came in sharp, shallow bursts, his fingers twitching against the belt. The rough fabric bit into his palms, but his grip was already weakening.

He had to move.

Now.

"Karlos?!" Ethan's voice cut through the silence, firm but laced with something Karlos wasn't used to hearing from him—panic.

Karlos' throat was dry. His voice barely came out.

"I think the belt… slipped."

Silence.

Then Ethan's sharp, immediate response:

"Climb back up. Now. Before it slips off entirely."

Karlos' mind raced, his chest tightening.

Should I go…?

The hesitation was brief—but it cost him.

Every second spent thinking was another second he was losing.

He gritted his teeth, adjusting his grip and pulling his weight up. His muscles screamed, his shoulders burned—but he forced himself upward, one inch at a time.

Then—

The knot slipped.

Just an inch.

Just enough for Karlos to feel his body drop.

His stomach twisted violently.

The sensation of falling.

That instant when your body realizes it's no longer secure.

Your heart lurches up to your throat.

Your mind goes blank, overriding every other thought with raw, primal terror.

For a split second, his brain convinced him he was gone. That the void had claimed him.

"SHIT!!"

His voice broke as he clung to the belt, his entire weight jerking downward.

Ethan's grip on the claw tightened instantly.

"KARLOS—BE CAREFUL! DON'T RUSH!!" Ethan shouted, his voice strained, filled with sheer urgency.

But Karlos could barely hear him.

His entire body was shaking.

The void below was swallowing everything.

He didn't just see it.

He felt it.

Like it was pressing against his skin. Like it was alive.

Like if he stayed there too long, it would consume him.

The more he stared into it, the more it felt endless.

No ground. No walls. No reflection.

Just nothing.

He was nothing to it.

And if he fell—

There would be no impact.

No sound.

No remains.

Just vanishing.

His breath hitched.

If the knot was already slipping…

If he hung here too long…

A violent shudder ran down his spine.

His hands felt cold.

Too cold.

The numbness was creeping in—his grip failing by the second.

The blood was draining from his fingers.

They felt weak, distant—like they didn't belong to him anymore.

Have you ever done a dead hang?

At first, your grip is solid. Strong. Unshakable.

You think—I can hold this forever.

30 seconds in— Your fingers are still firm, but a dull ache starts to set in.

45 seconds— Your forearms burn. Your back stiffens.

One minute— And suddenly, your hands aren't yours anymore.

The blood isn't flowing there. Your fingers lose feeling.

The grip that once felt secure, unbreakable— starts to fade.

Karlos was feeling that now.

Except this wasn't some gym exercise.

There was no safety net. No second chance.

He had seconds left.

And if he didn't move now…

He was going to fall.

Karlos' breath was a ragged mess, his body trembling with exhaustion. His arms felt like dead weight, every muscle screaming as his fingers clung to the belt.

He was losing grip.

He was losing time.

The knot had already slipped twice. It was only a matter of time before—

No.

He refused to just fall.

If he died, it wouldn't be like this. Not like this.

"ETHAN!!"

Ethan's head snapped down instantly, his knuckles bone-white from gripping the claw.

"WHAT?!"

"SHOOT YOUR HAND DOWN!" Karlos' voice was sharp, desperate. "WHEN I'M ABOUT TO FALL—CATCH ME!"

For a second, Ethan didn't respond.

The silence stretched.

Then—a sharp breath. A nod.

"ALRIGHT!"

Ethan readjusted himself, shifting his weight forward, his entire body leaning dangerously close to the bridge's edge. His right hand still gripped the claw, but his left arm extended downward, fingers open, waiting.

"TELL ME WHEN!"

Karlos' heart slammed against his ribs.

His vision was blurring.

His hands were fading.

If he waited too long—if he hesitated for even a second—he wouldn't get a second chance.

He pulled.

A final, desperate pull.

His shoulders screamed in protest. His biceps burned. His fingers fought to stay closed.

The knot slipped again.

Karlos felt it.

The slow, dreadful unraveling.

The second before disaster.

His body was falling.

"ETHAN—!!"

The knot snapped.

Weightlessness.

The moment your body realizes there is nothing left to hold you.

The horror of pure, unfiltered freefall.

The abyss welcomed him.

The bridge vanished from his sight.

His heart crashed into his throat, his lungs seizing in panic.

And then—

A hand.

Ethan's hand.

Karlos lunged, his fingers stretching with everything he had left.

Their hands collided—

And Ethan caught him.

The force yanked Ethan downward, his own body jerking violently forward.

"FUCK—!!"

For a split second, Ethan nearly lost his balance. His torso tilted over the edge, his grip straining to hold on.

Karlos' feet kicked wildly.

The void below him screamed its silent call.

The abyss was waiting.

His legs scrambled—

And then—

His foot slammed against something solid.

The thin slab of metal.

His weight stabilized.

His heart thundered in his ears, his breath strangled.

Ethan's fingers crushed against his wrist, refusing to let go.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Ethan's voice was shaking, breathless. "I got you—"

Karlos couldn't even respond.

His mind was still processing the fall.

The terrifying emptiness beneath him.

The thought that, if he had missed Ethan's hand by even a fraction of a second—

He wouldn't be here anymore.

No body.

No sound.

Just... gone.

Ethan gritted his teeth, his entire body straining.

"MOVE! CLIMB!"

Karlos forced his body to react.

One arm.

Then the other.

His hands grasped the bridge's cold, rusted surface.

One last pull.

With Ethan's help, he dragged himself over the edge.

His back hit the metal. His lungs gasped for air.

Silence.

Nothing but their shaking breaths.

Then—

Karlos let out a breathless, broken laugh.

Ethan exhaled, letting his head drop against the bridge.

Neither of them said it.

But they both knew.

That was too close.

The two of them lay there, unmoving.

Flat against the cold metal. Breathing. Just breathing.

Their lungs fought for air, their chests rising and falling in sync, the aftermath of pure survival still rippling through their bodies.

Relief washed over them, but it didn't come all at once. It came in slow, unsteady waves.

For Karlos, it was the realization that he was still here.

Not falling.

Not gone.

His hands were shaking, his face damp with sweat. His arms felt numb, the muscles refusing to move after that final desperate pull. His mind raced back to the fall, back to the weightlessness, back to that gut-wrenching moment when he was sure—**completely sure—**that he was dead.

But he wasn't.

He was alive.

And Ethan—

Ethan was still panting, but for a different reason.

Not exhaustion.

Pure stress.

The entire time Karlos had been dangling, his survival had depended entirely on Ethan's timing.

If he had reacted even a second too late—

No.

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut for a second, shaking off the thought.

He didn't want to imagine it.

He didn't want to picture what would've happened if he had missed.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with everything that had just happened.

Then—Karlos spoke.

"Shit!!" Karlos panted, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "That was such a close call, bro."

The adrenaline still buzzed in his veins, but now that he was on solid ground, the fear started turning into relief. A shaky, uneasy relief, but relief nonetheless.

Ethan didn't reply immediately.

He sat up first, elbows resting on his knees, his head tilted downward slightly. His breathing was slowing, but his body still felt tense.

Finally, he spoke, his tone dry but edged with lingering stress.

"Well, no shit."

His eyes flicked toward Karlos, his voice a little lower.

"I almost thought you were gone for good."

Karlos let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head.

"Yeah… me too, man."

But there was no humor behind it.

After a moment, Karlos pushed himself up into a sitting position, his muscles aching from exhaustion.

And then—his eyes landed on it.

The folded note.

The rulebook of Phase 1.

The one he had risked his life for.

The one that would tell them what they were up against.

Ethan's gaze followed Karlos' movements, and after a beat, he spoke again.

"You should recite it to me this time, Karlos."

Karlos raised an eyebrow, glancing at him. "Oh? Feeling lazy now?"

Ethan rolled his eyes, but there was a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

"No. Just figured since you almost died for it, you should be the one to read it first."

Karlos scoffed, but there was an underlying warmth in his tone.

"Well, sure—if you ask."

He cleared his throat, unfolded the paper, and prepared to read.