The arguments about whether to stay or leave dissolved into silence. A thick, suffocating silence. No one spoke, no one dared to breathe too loudly. Everyone strained their ears, bracing for whatever horror was approaching us next.
The tremors had stopped, but that only made it worse. It was the kind of silence that screamed louder than any noise ever could.
"What the hell is that…" someone whispered near me. No one answered.
Maya, ever composed, ever in control, stepped forward. "Stay calm," she whispered, voice firm yet gentle. "I'll speak with Alex."
I watched her go—watched the confident sway in her stride, the calm in her face that made everyone around her steady themselves too. She had this… presence, this invisible command of a room that made people stop and listen. She wasn't part of our group at the start. Just showed up one day with five others, leading them like she was born for it. And ever since, she'd naturally begun filling the gaps Alex didn't.
I couldn't help but admire her. She didn't even flinch during that raptor-cat standoff in the gallery. I, on the other hand… I was just a student. A regular nobody. Just thrown into this chaos without so much as a warning.
Alex returned to us, his tone as serious as ever. "I'm going to scout ahead."
There was a beat of silence before someone spoke up, unsure. "What? Alone?"
Another voice followed, a little sharper. "Is that really a good idea?"
A few others muttered under their breath, not loud enough to challenge him directly, but the concern was there. The kind that lingers in the eyes more than in words.
"We can't just sit here and do nothing," someone said, mostly to themselves.
People started shifting where they stood. Some crossed their arms, others glanced around, looking at each other like someone might step up and offer a better plan. No one did.
It wasn't just worry. It was that quiet kind of fear that builds when you're waiting for something bad to happen—but don't know from where.
Alex looked around at all of us and raised a hand. "It's just a scout," he repeated, keeping his voice steady. "I'll be back. You all stay here and stay hidden."
Maya nodded beside him. "You'll need to go light. Leave the blade."
A few exchanged glances, but no one pushed further.
I didn't know what I was expecting. Maybe someone else to volunteer. Maybe me. I almost did, but I knew I wasn't ready. I didn't have the skill, the confidence, or the calm that Alex had.
So I stayed quiet, watching as he stepped away, leaving behind the heavy blade that had become part of his silhouette. The thing leaned against the wall like a reminder of how real everything was now.
Almost immediately, a guy with glasses wandered over to the blade. "Maybe I should go," he muttered, placing both hands on the hilt like a wannabe hero. He tried to lift it. The sword didn't budge.
"Don't bother," I said, not bothering to hide the edge in my voice. "It's not a toy."
I knew because I'd tried once too—with a similar sword dropped by a fallen knight. Nearly tore my shoulder out. Those things were made for warriors. Trained ones. Not for someone like me. Not for most of us here.
I looked down at my pole, still in my grip. Scratched, battered, but still in one piece.
Good enough.
A soft clap echoed through the chamber. Maya. She stood in the middle of the group, clapping her hands just loud enough to draw attention without alerting anything lurking nearby.
"Everyone," she said, "we need to regroup and take stock. Water? Food?"
There was a pause, then people started digging through their bags, and pockets, scavenged supplies.
One student held up half a bottle of water. Another produced two energy bars. Someone else unearthed the first aid kit, mostly empty now, except for a few bandages and a crumpled alcohol wipe.
"That's it?" Maya murmured, more to herself than anyone else.
I swallowed hard. My throat was dry—had been for hours. I hadn't even noticed it until she brought it up.
She nodded slowly, then straightened. "We'll make it last."
A few moments passed before the whispers started up again.
"We should wait it out," someone mumbled from the back.
"Wait for what? That thing to find us first?" another replied, arms crossed.
A third student chimed in, rubbing his temples. "We don't even know what we're up against. Maybe it'll leave on its own."
"But what if it doesn't?" Maya asked, stepping forward. Her voice was calm but firm, like she was already weighing scenarios in her head. "What if this thing is the only thing between us and the exit? What's the plan then—just hide until we run out of water?"
No one answered her right away. I looked around. The fear was there again. Just under the surface. No one wanted to make a call because it meant taking responsibility if it all went wrong.
"Maybe we should… at least think about a backup plan," one girl said, trying to sound reasonable.
"Or maybe we should have a plan to begin with," Maya replied, pulling a stick from a broken piece of decor. She knelt down and started drawing rough lines on the dusty museum floor. It wasn't perfect, but it got the job done.
We slowly gathered around her like students around a campfire. The floor turned into our map.
"Let's say it's a large creature," one student offered, pointing at the corridor Maya had sketched.
"Judging by the tremors… yeah, sounds like something massive," another added.
"Big means slow," Maya said, drawing a big X across the path. "Which means it can be tripped. Bound. We tie its legs, make it fall."
"The bigger they are…" she added, glancing around.
"The harder they fall," I finished under my breath.
The plan formed quickly from there. We'd use the ropes from the exhibit barriers—those thick, museum-grade cords that once kept tourists in line. Now, they might be the only thing keeping us alive.
We weren't soldiers. Not trained. But maybe that was our advantage—we had to be creative. And desperate people can get real creative.
Then came the theory session.
Some monsters, we'd noticed, were agile. Some weren't. We figured the more thought that had gone into the original model—animatronics, joints, mechanisms—the harder they were to deal with. Props? Static statues? They were slower, dumber. Easier to destroy.
Hopefully.
The minutes dragged by like hours.
Then footsteps echoed down the hall—measured, cautious.
Alex returned.
We all gathered instinctively, like moths drawn to a flame. His expression told us everything before he even spoke.
"It's huge," he said, wiping his forehead. "Three times the size of a man. Standing guard at the corridor that leads to the exit."
"What is it?" Maya asked.
"A statue," Alex said. "The statue of King Arthur Pendragon. Full armour. Sword and all."
A collective shiver ran through the group. Some gasped. I just stared at Alex, trying to picture the thing.
"That's… what? A national treasure?" someone muttered.
"It's a nightmare," I replied.
"But it's slow," Alex added. "I saw it move. Every step shakes the walls, but it's not quick."
We looked at each other, then back at the ropes we'd piled up.
"It'll work," Maya said. "We'll make it work."
We got to work fast. Ropes, repurposed sticks, broken glass, sharpened bones. The tusks of fallen creatures were shaped into makeshift blades. Someone even took the jawbone of a saber-tooth and turned it into a crude, terrifying weapon.
"Test them first," Maya warned. "If it's real armour on that statue, we need force, not finesse."
I kept my pole. Still light. Still fast. Still mine.
As the others finished preparing, I stood still for a moment, just watching.
Watching a group of students turn into survivors.
And then, we were ready.
The King waited.
And so did our next battle.