Chapter Thirty-Two: The Curtain Falls

"Where are the other two?" Vernon turned at the sound, just as Jenome and Blade emerged from the back room.

"They fell down," Vernon pointed to a hole nearby. "Judging by the way the grass grows, there must be another overlapping space below."

"We can't wait any longer. Let's go—down together. I bet the mission target is waiting for us down there," Jenome said, taking the lead and jumping in.

The underground space was thick with smoke and the air reeked of gunpowder. Broken walls and ruins sprawled everywhere, evidence of shelling and bombs etched clear and deep. Frank felt his body surge with energy as he arrived—this was familiar ground; before retiring, he'd spent some time in places just like this.

Boom, boom, boom—the sound of explosions rang in Frank's ears, evoking a strange sense of comfort. To him, these threats were far more manageable than ghosts or supernatural horrors.

He hadn't walked far through the war-torn ruins before he spotted Fina's silhouette. After signaling to his teammates, he crouched and quickly crept toward her.

Fina was huddled in a corner formed by two walls, hands pressed to her ears, holding up a pale blue magical shield.

"Fina, Fina," Frank called out twice.

Fina looked up, Frank's figure blurred in her eyes. The constant barrage of explosions had left her dizzy. "Everyone's here?"

"Yes, they're behind me. Where's Natasha?" Frank asked in return.

"She said this terrain isn't suited to me, told me to hide here while she deals with the enemy. But there hasn't been much progress. Now that you're here, I'll put up a shield for you all—let's hurry and help her," Fina shook her head and spoke.

Frank peered out from cover. The space was bright enough; he immediately spotted two tiny figures in the distance—one was Natasha, the other must be the enemy.

"No need, we can't wait that long. You stay here and shield them when they arrive. Give me a shield—I'm the specialist here," Frank said with firm conviction.

Indeed, a Marine would be nothing less than a specialist.

Fina didn't argue further. With a wave, she cast a shield, and Frank sprang forward like a leopard, the ruined landscape posing no obstacle to him.

As he closed the distance, Frank finally understood why the famed Black Widow hadn't subdued the enemy yet.

The opponent was cheating. Every drop of their bodily fluid and every part of their body could become a bomb. Even a spit was like a bomber's payload. With attacks coming at such a frequency, Natasha could only dodge endlessly, never finding a chance to strike.

Natasha spotted Frank approaching rapidly and raised both hands in a gesture to disable firearms.

"Disable firearms? Firearms are useless?" Several thoughts flashed through Frank's mind, but he didn't slow. If guns wouldn't work, then he'd use cold steel for a silent kill.

He signaled a few tactical hand gestures to Natasha as he moved left. Natasha cooperated, drawing the enemy in another direction, allowing Frank to slip into the enemy's blind spot.

Feet crunching on rubble, Frank darted closer. The enemy wore a strange black outfit covering their entire body, save for a seam at the neck.

Frank lowered himself further, twisting his right wrist. Three spring-loaded knives were clenched between his fingers.

Swish!

The knives flew over twenty meters, striking the enemy's neck with precision. Each knife hit the hilt of the previous one, driving the first blade through the enemy's throat.

After throwing the knives, Frank rolled sideways, shielding his head as he tumbled down the ruins—a textbook move to avoid close-range explosions.

But after dropping more than thirty meters, Frank heard no blast.

Rising behind cover, he saw the enemy had ceased attacking, now kneeling in quiet acceptance of death.

The scene shifted. Frank saw a young boy, nearly grown, finally adopted, only to have his joy cut short when a man in priest's robes strapped him with explosives, turning him into a disposable pawn.

In his final moments, the boy's last wish was to be killed before the bombs went off.

As the vision faded, the surroundings reverted to the haunted house.

At this point in the script, Yang Qiu sighed deeply. He hadn't meticulously designed every element of the script; those scenes Frank and the others saw were added by the script's own evolution, adapted from real cases.

Each story was a poignant lament. Still, the overall outcome was as Yang Qiu intended—Frank, Blade, and Natasha genuinely believed in the existence of the Shadow World and the Ouroboros organization.

Now, only the final act remained—the self-destructing cultist.

After three scenarios, everyone in the team was simmering with anger.

They quickened their pace, and soon arrived at the haunted house's final stage—a simulated prison.

Inside, the simulated prison room was etched with bizarre patterns and designs. By the flickering candlelight on the floor, they saw two corpses lying symmetrically.

The faces were twisted in horrific smiles, their limbs nailed firmly to the ground with wooden stakes.

On closer inspection, the bodies were unmistakably the mother who forced her daughter to jump and the man who compelled his child into the hospital.

"Anger… revenge… the lust for slaughter shall guide my lord's descent upon this filthy world, bringing cleansing to all wretched humanity…"

A voice echoed from behind the group. Blade spun and fired an arrow.

The arrow struck the speaker but failed to stop him. He gazed at the six before him as if beholding priceless treasures.

"The lord's arrival demands witnesses and more sacrifices. I declare you the audience! You are the sacrifices!"

The cultist laughed madly, raising his scarred arms and revealing a small knife buried in his chest.

With a violent gesture, he tore his own body open, blood flooding the floor, his mouth unleashing a cry—whether agony or something else, none could tell.

Jenome gripped his round shield, bracing for attack, but the cultist died and the supposed god never appeared. Instead, the Ouroboros mark glowed, and the message of the newcomer's trial completion flooded their minds.

"Is that it?" Frank was incredulous.

"Seems so. If there were a real evil god, this trial would be way over the top," Vernon replied, looking at Frank.

In the next moment, the group was safely returned to their pre-trial positions.