Night on the island was not merely the absence of light; it was an oppressive entity. The treetops, engineered to be dense and suffocating, turned the forest into a labyrinth of twisted silhouettes. In John's group, the mood was one of cold, pragmatic efficiency. Theo, the nurse—and the "Offering" marked for Aaron's team—worked quickly under the light of a dynamo flashlight. He cleaned the deep cut on John's eyebrow with a hand that, despite the terror, remained steady.
"Smith is watching us like rats in an aquarium," Lance muttered, adjusting the improvised bandage on his broken nose.
As if in direct response, Smith's voice reverberated through the hidden loudspeakers, laden with a biting irony that seemed to vibrate in the survivors' bones.
"Eager little groups you are, huh?" Smith let out a short laugh. "I hadn't even announced the prize yet and you were already trying to tear each other apart. Was that bloodlust just waiting for the right invitation to come out? But well, the prize for this game is triple! You can choose supplies, information, or… the Sanctuary. One full day of absolute rest in the only safe place on this island, with hot food and real beds. But beware: this luxury only lasts until the sixth day. Do your best, piggies! Smith out."
Inside the cave, Harry processed the information with the speed of a computer. "It's a dangerous prize," Harry said, looking at Alex and Elisa. "The logic is a trap. If you leave your base to go to this 'Sanctuary,' your resources become vulnerable. Smith wants to force us to choose between physical comfort and strategic survival. If we come back on the sixth day and our base is empty, that rest will have been our death sentence."
"He offered a 'spa day' as a reward for murder?" Foxy let out a dry laugh, the sound echoing off the stone walls. "That guy is a genius of chaos. Imagine the scene: us sipping tea while the rest of the island guts itself."
Miles away, Aaron's group did not share Foxy's cynicism. Hidden behind a rocky outcrop, they tended their wounds with the desperation of those who saw the end approaching.
"That rest would be our only chance, Aaron," Mick the gymnast said as he tightened his grip on his iron bar. "We're in pieces. Coming back refreshed while the others rot is the only way to win."
Aaron, clutching his cracked ribs, nodded with difficulty. However, on the other side of the foliage, John had a different view. "The Sanctuary is bait for the weak," John whispered to his group. "We don't abandon our position for comfort. We hunt the girl now."
The pursuit resumed with visceral intensity. Aaron's group used their athletic agility, leaping over fallen trunks and using parkour to flank John's team. The fight surged frenetically through the jungle until it reached an area of dense, yellowed vegetation: the southern quadrant—precisely the edge of the defensive perimeter of Alex's cave.
Kael, the acrobatics specialist on Aaron's team, attempted a bold maneuver. He climbed a young tree and jumped to land behind John. However, upon touching down in the dense foliage, he failed to notice the nearly invisible nylon wire stretched between two bushes.
CLICK.
The mechanical sound was followed by the launch of a tensioned wooden stake—one of Elisa's traps. The crude timber, driven by high-resistance elastic cords, punched through Kael's thigh with devastating force, pinning him to the ground. The scream that tore from his lungs was a sharp sound of pure agony, shattering the forest's symphony.
John didn't hesitate for a fraction of a second. He didn't see the trap as a danger, but as a tactical opportunity. With the precision of an executioner, he advanced on the immobilized young man. His tactical knife flashed in the flashlight's beam and, with a powerful circular motion, John decapitated Kael before a second scream could form. The head rolled across the damp grass, Kael's eyes still wide in shock.
"What… what was that?" Lance recoiled, staring at the blood-soaked stake. "We didn't set that up."
John examined the camouflaged mechanism with a clinical gaze. "Defensive engineering," John hissed. "There's a base nearby. And whoever lives there doesn't want visitors. We pull back before we trip another one."
During the hasty retreat, Aaron's group struck back in blind retaliation. Mick, driven by the rage of seeing his friend killed, brought his iron pipe down in a vicious overhead strike. Carina, covering John's rear, wasn't fast enough. The metal smashed into her temple with a hollow sound. She collapsed instantly, lifeless, her body hitting the ground with heavy finality. John roared, but the priority was protecting Theo, the Offering. They vanished into the darkness.
Inside the cave, everyone felt the vibration of the triggered trap. Elisa sprang to her feet, one hand braced against the wall.
"One of my traps was triggered," she said, her voice a straight line of coldness. "Southern quadrant. The stake system."
"Did they find us?" Dante asked, his face paling as he backed deeper into the cave. "Did Smith send them here?"
"No," Alex replied, drawing his pistol and checking the magazine. "They're fighting each other and stumbled into our garden. But now John knows someone is here. He saw the trap and he knows what it means: someone smart is hiding nearby."
Foxy rose with predatory elegance, wiping his knife on his shirt sleeve. His dark sunglasses, which never left his face, reflected the orange glow of the campfire. Behind the lenses, his pitch-black eyes seemed to dilate with the nearness of death. "The problem isn't that they know we're here, Harry. The problem is that blood has been spilled at our gate. And on this island, the smell of blood is an invitation to dinner."
Alex walked to the cave entrance, signaling for Yuki to stay by his side. Silence returned to the forest—but it was a rotten silence, heavy with the metallic odor of Kael and Carina.
"Hold your positions," Alex ordered, his voice low and steady. "If anyone tries to come in, don't ask questions. Just shoot. Civility died today at the entrance of this cave."
The second act of the Game of Sacrifice reached its peak, and Alex's group had just become—unwillingly—the third player in a hunt that did not belong to them, but would certainly demand its price.