The group sprinted through the overgrown garden, their footsteps thudding against the earth as they rounded the cottage's corner. The kitchen window they'd leapt from moments ago vanished behind them. With one sharp turn to the right, they emerged at the front of the cottage—the same entrance they'd used when they'd first arrived. Now it felt different. Tainted.
The garden path was scattered with leaves, twisted roots, and the echo of their own breathless panic.
Then they saw them.
Lined across the front yard like an eerie reception were the entities—the ones who had begun marching toward them the moment The Hunt was announced. The same twisted mimics of humanity that tried to smile and speak like people, but always got something wrong. Their limbs hung too straight, their eyes didn't blink, and their stillness felt heavier than motion. They stood shoulder to shoulder, forming a wall of something not quite right.
And in front of them all, as if he had never moved, was Spes.
Standing tall by the cottage door, backlit by the crooked frame of the house, he looked exactly the same as ever—unblinking, calm, unnervingly blank. Like he had just finished reciting instructions from a script he never wrote.
It hit them then—something Spes had said before the Hunt began.
"These entities are going out to gather resources. You'll need them to survive."
And now they were back.
That meant the preparations were over.
The resources had been gathered.
A sharp, invisible pressure pushed against their chests as the truth settled into their bones.
The Hunt was no longer a threat on the horizon.
It was about to begin.
And this time… they had to survive through it.
They had no idea what was coming.
Only glimpses—shadows of writhing limbs and the distant promise of violence. Nothing concrete. Nothing they could prepare for. Just a growing, suffocating dread of the unknown.
Spes turned before anyone could call his name. He already knew they were there.
His movements were as mechanical as ever, a puppet pre-programmed to respond at the right moment. He lifted his right hand slowly, palm open, inviting them forward like a conductor beckoning his players to their doom.
"The Hunt begins in five minutes," he said, in that same dull, affectless voice. Like the words themselves meant nothing to him.
A wave of panic crashed over the group.
They rushed forward without thinking, crowding near Spes as if proximity alone might grant safety.
"Only five minutes?" Nathan's voice cracked as the countdown began to hammer through his skull.
Ivy took the lead, pushing aside fear and urgency for the sake of clarity. Her jaw clenched, eyes sharp.
"What do we need to do? Tell us." Her voice held authority now, not desperation. Information was survival.
Spes gave a short nod—more acknowledgment than emotion—and turned slightly toward the table beside them.
"As you can see, beside you is a table. We have placed the resources required to survive the Hunt. You may examine them if you must."
Alice's eyes had already drifted there. A weathered wooden table stood to the side, nearly blending into the garden around it. On it lay a few crude weapons—machetes, knives, an old rifle missing its strap. A rolled-up map. Bottles filled with... something. Water? Medicine? Poison?
It looked meager.
"Only that much?" Alice thought, her gaze narrowing.
"But make it quick," Spes continued.
"You have exactly four minutes until the Hunt begins."
Without waiting for a response, he turned toward the cottage door. His footsteps were soundless.
"Our job is done here."
"May you survive the Hunt."
And with that, he walked away. No farewell. No emotion.
Behind him, the wall of entities began to move. In perfect silence, they scattered like leaves in the wind, returning to their own cottages with no explanation or purpose given. No more pretend humanity. No more mimicked smiles.
It was over.
The test was officially complete.
And now… they were on their own.
The Hunt was real.
And it was coming.
"Tch."
Nathan clicked his tongue, the sound sharp in the heavy silence. The truth had settled. They were on their own now. No instructions. No rules. Just survival.
He glanced to the side, his face twisted in a mix of desperation and frustration. His eyes landed on Ivy.
"What's the plan?" Urgency cracked through his tone like splintering glass.
Ivy didn't waste a second.
"We don't have much time," she replied quickly, stepping toward the table. Her focus sharpened as she scanned the resources laid out before them.
"Let's analyze what we have to work with—as fast as possible."
Alice and Harper followed her without a word, flanking both sides as they leaned in to examine their tools for survival.
"And make a run for it," Ivy added under her breath.
Nathan exhaled, trying to push down the weight pressing on his chest. He understood. Of course he did. If he didn't by now, he'd be a damn idiot.
He stepped up beside Harper, nodding slightly.
"I'll take care of the weapons."
His hands hovered over the table as he quickly surveyed the selection. A few worn knives—likely good for close-range defense. A pair of machetes—lightweight, decent reach. And then—
A rifle.
His eyes locked on it instantly.
A bolt-action Mauser Kar98k, if he had to guess. Old, but solid. Well-built. Probably accurate. He reached toward it, fingers brushing the cold metal. Just beside it sat a small wooden box—he popped it open briefly.
Ammunition.
Not much. Barely enough for a handful of shots. Definitely not something they could afford to waste.
"A trump card," he thought."Something to save for the worst possible moment."
Then his eyes caught something odd.
A chain cutter.
"Why...?" he muttered under his breath. It looked sturdy—heavy-duty, not something random. Maybe it would come in handy later. Maybe it was a clue.
And finally, an axe.
Worn, rust creeping along the blade's edge—but it had weight. It was brutal. Reliable.
"Badass,"he couldn't help but think, even through the panic.
The four of them stood over the table now, the final countdown ticking in their minds, with nothing but scraps and instinct to rely on.
"Alright, that's enough..."
Ivy's voice cut through the air, clear and commanding despite the tremor behind it.
"We've analyzed what we can. We'll explain it to each other later—I'm assuming we have two minutes."
She reached beside the table and grabbed a weathered canvas bag slumped against one of the table legs. It was clearly meant for storing supplies—heavy-duty, rough-stitched, big enough to carry just the essentials.
With the map still in her hand, she looked to Alice and Harper.
"Put everything you've checked into this. Quickly."
Nathan, already ahead of the curve, picked up the machetes and knives and began handing them out. Each blade looked used but functional.
"Take one each. Keep the knives as backup," he said, voice firm but steady. He moved with the kind of urgency that only came from understanding the stakes.
He kept the rifle to himself.
"I'll hold onto this. I know how to use it."
Ivy gave him a sharp nod.
"Good. Don't waste it unless you have to."
Alice and Harper stuffed the bottles, the chain cutter, and the small ammo box into the bag. Harper zipped it up halfway before looking back.
"Come on, Alice—hurry."
Alice tossed in the last items, the axe landing with a dull thud inside. The bag was heavier now, but manageable. Harper pulled the strap over her shoulder.
Less than two minutes remained.
No more time to think. No more time to breathe.
Ivy moved first, leading them past the garden and toward the narrow highway road that snaked through the phase. Nathan followed beside her, rifle slung over his shoulder. Behind them, Alice and Harper kept close, eyes darting everywhere—every shadow a threat.
As they crossed the boundary of the cottage garden, something made them all pause.
A deep rumble trembled through the earth. They turned.
From the cracked soil behind the cottage, the ground bulged unnaturally—split open like some festering wound. Black, glistening tentacles burst free, writhing upward into the open sky.
Dozens.
No—hundreds.
Long, pulsing, and unnatural. They bent and curled, some slamming into the ground like anchors, others moving in slow, serpent-like waves.
And then they saw it.
The center.
A massive spherical body—like the grotesque head of an octopus—was beginning to rise from the pit. Its dark, veiny surface shimmered like oil, but what froze them were the eyes.
So many eyes.
Tiny, blinking, lidless, twitching—scattered all over the sphere like a nest of watching parasites. Some looked human. Others... didn't. They swiveled in all directions, searching. Waiting.
And it was still rising.
Only the upper part of the head remained beneath the surface, pushing through slowly like it was breaching from the underworld. They had maybe a minute before the entire creature stood revealed.
It didn't walk.
It traveled on its tentacles—hundreds of legs slamming and slithering across the landscape. Its sheer mass would crush anything in its path.
And it was going to hunt them.
They didn't need to be told. They felt it.
Time was out.
They ran.