For once, Victor wasn't clinging to Wednesday's side. Instead, he let Venom take over. With several powerful leaps, he vanished like black lightning into the dense forest of Raven Island, heading toward the island's center.
His speed was extreme, treating forest obstacles as if they didn't exist.
Soon, he arrived at his destination—the Crackstone Crypt.
It was a small clearing surrounded by ancient trees. A rough stone archway engraved with the name "Joseph Crackstone" stood lonely, like some forgotten monument.
In front of the stone arch, dozens of flags of different colors were planted, each representing a team hungry for victory.
Victor (Venom-possessed) leaped lightly to the top of the stone arch and sat down. His massive white eyes scanned the empty grounds below like a king surveying the stage where his play was about to unfold.
But suddenly, his massive head tilted slightly, nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply.
The air was filled with soil, rotting leaves, and a... extremely faint, yet familiar scent that instantly put every one of his cells on high alert.
A smell of disinfectant, corroded metal, and... despair.
The smell of the lab.
"Hmm?" A low, interested grumble rumbled in his throat. His huge white eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the rough stone arch and the surrounding ground.
"How interesting..." he murmured to the Victor inside him, or rather, Venom murmured to their shared consciousness, his voice carrying the pleasure of finding prey.
"They've been here. Those 'Beak' gentlemen... what were they doing here?"
Venom squirmed inside him, responding: "Doesn't smell like anything good. Reminds me of those experiment recorders who didn't taste very good."
"Anyway, they weren't here for a picnic." Victor chuckled lightly, his attention returning to the upcoming "game."
Patience, Victor. Time makes the wine richer.
He admonished himself.
But before that, let's vent a little.
---
When Bianca finally led the remnants of the other defeated, shaken teams, panting and ragged, into the clearing of Crackstone Crypt, this was the scene they saw.
That pitch-black, hideous monster was sitting high atop the stone arch, as if he had been waiting for a long time.
What chilled them even more was the surrounding environment—the originally dense forest looked as if it had been ravaged by some unstoppable terrifying force. Broken branches were scattered everywhere. Several thick trees had even been snapped in half, their breaks revealing sharp wooden splinters.
The air was filled with the faint scent of wood dust and a... more primal, unsettling pressure.
"Yo, the lost little lambs finally found the slaughterhouse?" Victor greeted them from above, his tone as light as if singing a cruel nursery rhyme.
He casually grabbed a thick broken log from beside him. His right hand covered it quickly, and accompanied by a tooth-aching creak and flying wood chips, the log was easily torn apart and shaped in his hand...
In almost a blink of an eye, a simple wooden javelin with an extremely sharpened tip, glinting with dangerous cold light, appeared in his hand.
He weighed it casually.
"New game rules!" He grinned with that giant mouth full of sharp teeth, his voice echoing in the empty woods with a playful madness. "See those cute little flags in front of you?"
"Pull out your flag under my 'enthusiastic assistance'."
He paused, his large white eyes sweeping over the faces below filled with fear and tension, as if admiring a beautiful painting.
Then he added, as if being magnanimous:
"Don't worry, fellas. I'll go easy on you. You definitely won't die..."
Before he finished speaking, his arm holding the javelin moved violently!
The wooden javelin turned into a blurred black shadow, tearing through the air with a sharp whistle, shooting out at a speed the naked eye could barely track—
Bang! Crack!
Like piercing a thin sheet of paper, the javelin easily punched through a tree trunk as thick as an adult's thigh. Unabated, it slammed fiercely into another, thicker tree behind it, the tail still vibrating violently.
"...But it'll probably hurt for a few days." Victor finally finished the second half of his sentence leisurely.
Dead silence below.
Every contestant's face turned paper-white instantly. Some even instinctively touched their own arms or thighs, as if already feeling the agonizing pain of being impaled.
This... this is called going easy on us?!
"Ah, sorry, sorry," Victor acted as if just realizing something, using a giant claw to scratch his head sheepishly.
Victor leaped down from the stone arch, the heavy landing causing the ground to tremble slightly.
He looked at the shivering "lambs" below who had almost lost their will to fight. His giant white eyes narrowed into two delighted slits, and a low, raspy laughter like rolling gravel rumbled in his throat.
"Oh? Scared already?" His voice carried an exaggerated, almost sing-song tone, every syllable filled with teasing amusement.
"Look at you! The 'elite' of Nevermore! The future pillars of the supernatural world! Scared witless by a few little wooden sticks?"
He spread his giant claws in a gesture of extreme helplessness.
"This is way gentler than the games I played as a kid! At least... no one's missing an arm or a leg yet, or had their head popped open, right?"
As if recalling some extremely "wonderful" memory, he licked his sharp teeth, his tone becoming lighter and crueler:
"Think about it, fellas. What a rare experience! Free of charge! Adrenaline soaring! An extreme survival challenge! When you go back, you can brag—'Hey! I survived under the javelins of that monster!' How cool is that! Guaranteed to attract girls... or guys?"
He let out a low laugh, as if amused by his own sense of humor.
"Or..." His voice suddenly dropped, carrying a cold, snake-like hiss. His massive body leaned forward slightly, creating terrifying pressure.
"Would you prefer to turn around and show me your backs? Let me try... can I skewer two, or even three, with one shot? Like a shish kebab? That scene would certainly be more... spectacular, more educational, wouldn't it?"
His gaze swept over each face stiff with fear, as if admiring a masterpiece.
"The choice is yours, little cuties." He finally straightened up, announcing in the most relaxed and cheerful tone, as if suggesting a movie for the evening.
"Stay and play this game with me—which hurts a bit but probably won't kill you—and try to see if you can take your little flags..."
"Or run now, and bet on whether my javelin is faster or your legs are faster. Bet on how long... my patience for 'going easy' will last?"
"Come on!" He suddenly spread his arms wide, his voice rising sharply, filled with manic invitation and undeniable pressure!
"Let me hear your screams! Let me see your struggle! That is the most beautiful war song! That is the most interesting part! Don't disappoint me!"
Bianca stared dead at Victor, then at the yellow flag belonging to her team, just within reach.
Humiliation and anger finally overpowered fear.
She let out a sharp scream: "For the Gold Bug!"
And she was the first to charge fearlessly toward the cluster of flags!
Her action was like a bugle call for the charge. The other contestants, eyes red, howled and followed her charge!
"That's right! That's more like it!" Victor laughed with satisfaction.
He spun around violently, waved a giant claw, and several more prepared wooden javelins floated up beside him.
"Let the trial begin! Have fun, fellas!"
The whistling sound rang out again!