In a rare move, Victor didn't stick by Wednesday's side. Instead, he let Venom possess him, and with several swift leaps, he vanished into the dense forest of Crow Island like black lightning, heading toward the center of the island.
His speed was incredibly fast, and the obstacles in the forest were as if they didn't exist.
Soon, he reached his destination—the Crackstone Crypt.
It was a small clearing surrounded by ancient trees, where a crude stone door engraved with the name 'Joseph Crackstone' stood lonely, like some forgotten monument.
In front of the stone door, dozens of flags of various colors were planted, each representing a team hungry for victory.
Victor (in his Venom-possessed state) nimbly leaped onto the top of the stone door and sat down. His huge white eyes scanned the empty grounds below, like a king surveying the stage where his play was about to begin.
But suddenly, his massive head tilted slightly, and his nostrils inhaled deeply.
The air was filled with the scent of earth, decaying leaves, and... an extremely faint smell that instantly put every one of his cells on high alert.
A mixture of disinfectant, rusting metal, and... despair.
The smell of a laboratory.
"Hmm?" A low, interested grunt escaped his throat, and his large white eyes narrowed as he carefully scrutinized the crude stone door and the surrounding ground.
"How interesting..." he murmured to the Victor inside him, or rather, to Venom who shared his senses, his voice carrying the pleasure of finding prey.
"They've been here. Those 'Beak' gentlemen... what were they doing here?"
Venom writhed within him and responded, "Doesn't smell like anything good. Reminds me of those experimental recorders who didn't taste very good."
"In any case, they didn't come for a picnic," Victor chuckled, his attention returning to the upcoming 'game'.
Be patient, Victor; time makes fine wine even more mellow.
He told himself this.
But before that, let's vent a little.
When Bianca led the remaining battered and shaken teams, finally rushing to the Crackstone Crypt panting and in disarray, this was the scene they saw.
That pitch-black, hideous monster was perched high atop the stone door, as if he had been waiting for a long time.
What chilled them to the bone even more was the surrounding environment—the once-dense woods looked as if they had been ravaged by some matchless, terrifying force. Broken branches and trunks were scattered everywhere, and several thick trees had even been snapped in half, their wounds revealing sharp wooden splinters.
The air was thick with the faint scent of wood chips and a... more primitive, unsettling pressure.
"Yo, have the lost little lambs finally found the slaughterhouse?" Victor greeted them from above, his tone as light as if he were singing a cruel nursery rhyme.
He casually picked up a broken log about the width of a bowl. His right hand quickly covered it, and with a tooth-aching 'creak' and flying wood chips, the log was easily torn apart and reshaped in his hand... in the blink of an eye, a simple wooden javelin with an extremely sharp tip, glinting with a dangerous cold light, appeared in his hand.
He weighed it casually.
"New game rules!" He grinned with his mouth full of sharp teeth, his voice echoing in the open forest with a playful madness. "Do you see these lovely little flags in front of you?"
"Pull out the flag that belongs to you with my 'enthusiastic help'."
He paused, his large white eyes sweeping over the faces below, each filled with fear and tension, as if he were admiring a beautiful painting.
He paused, his large white eyes sweeping over the faces below, each filled with fear and tension, as he added with mock magnanimity:
"Don't worry, guys. I'll show some mercy. You definitely won't die..."
Before he could finish his sentence, the arm holding the javelin suddenly moved!
The wooden javelin turned into a blurred black shadow, tearing through the air with a sharp whistle, and shot out at a speed difficult for the naked eye to catch—
Bang! Crack!
The javelin pierced through a tree trunk as thick as an adult's thigh as easily as if it were passing through thin paper. With its momentum undiminished, it slammed into another thicker tree behind it, the tail of the spear still vibrating violently.
"...But it'll probably hurt for a few days," Victor finished the second half of his sentence slowly.
Silence reigned below.
The faces of all the contestants instantly turned as pale as paper. Some even subconsciously touched their arms or thighs, as if they could already feel the piercing pain.
This... you call this showing mercy?!
"Ah, sorry, sorry," Victor said, as if he had just realized something, scratching his head sheepishly with a giant claw.
"I'm a bit out of practice. Usually, when I work... I go for the kill. I didn't manage the strength well for a moment."
This insincere apology only deepened everyone's fear.
Victor leaped down from the stone door, the heavy sound of his landing making the ground tremble slightly.
He looked at the shivering 'lambs' below who had almost lost their will to fight. His huge white eyes narrowed into two joyful slits, and a low, raspy laugh, like countless grains of sand rolling, came from his throat.
"Oh? Scared already?" His voice carried an exaggerated, almost sing-song quality, every syllable filled with playful mockery.
"Look at you! The 'elite' of Nevermore! The future pillars of the supernatural world! Scared out of your wits by a few little sticks?"
He spread his massive claws in a gesture of utter helplessness.
"This is much milder than the games I played as a kid! At least... no one is missing an arm or a leg yet, or has had their head blown open, right?"
As if remembering some extremely 'beautiful' memory, he licked his fangs, his tone becoming even lighter and more cruel:
"Think about it, guys, what a rare experience! Free of charge! An adrenaline rush! An extreme survival challenge! When you go back, you can brag—'Hey! I survived the javelins of that monster!' How cool is that! Guaranteed to attract girls... or boys?"
He let out a low chuckle, seemingly amused by his own sense of humor.
"Or..." His voice suddenly dropped, carrying a cold, snake-like hiss, his massive body leaning forward slightly, creating a terrifying sense of pressure.
"Would you prefer to turn around and show me your backs? Let me see... if I can skewer two, or even three, with one spear? Like a kebab? That scene would certainly be more... spectacular, and more educational, wouldn't it?"
His gaze swept over the faces frozen in fear, as if he were admiring a masterpiece.
"The choice is in your hands, cuties," he finally straightened up and announced in his most relaxed and cheerful tone, as if suggesting what movie to watch tonight.
"Either stay and play this game that hurts a bit but most likely won't kill you, and try to take your little flags while you're at it..."
"Or run now, and bet on whether my javelin is faster or your legs are, and bet on how much longer my 'merciful' patience... can last?"
"Come on!" He suddenly threw his arms wide, his voice rising sharply, filled with a frenzied invitation and an undeniable pressure!
"Let me hear your screams! Let me see your struggles! This is the most beautiful battle song! This is the most interesting part! Don't disappoint me!"
Bianca stared fixedly at Victor, then looked at the yellow flag belonging to her team, which was within reach.
Shame and anger finally overrode her fear.
She suddenly let out a shriek: "For the Goldbugs!"
Then, she was the first to charge fearlessly toward the cluster of flags!
Her action was like a bugle call for a charge. The other contestants also followed, their eyes bloodshot, howling as they rushed forward!
"That's more like it!" Victor let out a satisfied laugh.
He spun around, and with a wave of his giant claws, several more prepared wooden javelins appeared by his side.
"The trial begins! Have fun, guys!"
The whistling sound rang out once more!