Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics Chapter 5686 - 4710: Deadly Escape (43)

Moments later, the illumination power was restarted, and light returned to the checkpoint. The organizers’ corpses were dragged one after another to the central energy room, but they didn’t stay here for long because the situation was already very clear.

The entire game is a deadly escape organized by the company for viewing pleasure. But the wealthy elites weren’t satisfied with simply sitting in the stands; they wanted to personally experience the thrill of being above others’ lives. The company initially disagreed, but a wealthy elite codenamed "Weasel" was privately preparing for a larger-scale party.

To avoid being implicated, the company reluctantly agreed to the elites personally entering the game and even invited "Weasel" to participate. However, among the other five wealthy elites also participating, they planted their own staff, prepared to tamper in the lantern stage to prevent the reckless "Weasel" from making more dangerous moves.

Yet, another mysterious force came to disrupt the scene. Most players speculated that the gun-carrying hunters might be agents sent by the FBI or other law enforcers; they had long discovered the company’s conspiracy and were using this direct entry opportunity to meddle and gather criminal evidence against the company.

However, due to the players being somewhat dangerous, this agent didn’t reveal themselves to the players directly. But the players acted in a surprisingly coordinated manner, placing the dead elite corpses in the central energy control room. Here, there’s a temperature control device that ensures the freshness of the corpses, allowing officials to investigate the murder as soon as they take over.

Currently, the agent should have escaped, seeking help from law enforcement agencies. But the company remained eager and watchful. For fear of the company sending security personnel to hunt them down, the players didn’t dare stay long in the employee passage; instead, they returned to the checkpoint, planning to see what challenges remained in the remaining stages.

The passage to the next stage was still an elevator, which could take different groups of players to different rooms. However, this time, among the players, there was an extra person. Leading the way onto the elevator was Stark, who entered the room of Anatoli’s group, forcing everyone else to delay their entry.

So much so, when the last group, Batman and Superman’s group, arrived, the elevator was already closed. They couldn’t proceed to the next stage.

"This isn’t bad either," Superman said. "Your body really can’t endure intense exercise anymore."

Superman supported Batman into a cubicle in the lantern room to sit down. He said, "We’ll stay here. If they dare send security over, I’m not without fighting capability."

Batman nodded, knowing he was at the end of his strength; attempting intense activities would be suicide. However, though his body was immobile, his mind was still active.

"There were likely three insiders last game," he said. "One from the company, one was the agent. But the one who set the lantern on fire shouldn’t be any of these; it should be an insider from a third party force."

"This is really a hidden threat," Superman marveled. "But who could the third party be?"

Though he had brief interaction with some players, it wasn’t long enough for deep exchanges, and Batman couldn’t gather much. But he speculated, judging from the insider’s actions, it seemed they didn’t want anyone to survive, including organizers, players and possibly himself. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have set the fire at that moment.

Superman thought about it, recalling how the lantern was ignited before it toppled. In such a cramped space, the fire burned fiercely, and the odds of survival for those inside were very low. You could say, if not for the lantern being overturned, this fire could have truly been the deadly move, burning at least one of the organizers to death, if not more.

"This proves that the perpetrator wasn’t a stakeholder, nor did they seek any gains. Either they are purely a madman like Joker, or they pursued some non-material interests. I’m more inclined towards the latter."

"Non-material interests?" Superman thought about it and said, "Could it be a religious sacrifice?"

Superman is from Central Continent; heresy there is relatively rampant. He often hears horror stories about small towns, where sometimes a heretic sacrifices an entire town.

"If that’s the case, then they must have a base, and it’s probably within the checkpoint," Batman thought aloud. "They couldn’t and wouldn’t need to build their own employee passages; they must be using the company’s. And to facilitate movement, the base wouldn’t be too far from the convergence of employee passages. I suspect it’s above or below the central energy room."

"So, are we searching for the hidden elements now?" Superman asked, preparing himself. "We should. Even if we can’t clear the stage completely, finding the hidden parts might allow us to write a comprehensive guide afterward. Batman, will you give this game a favorable review?"

After a period of rest, Batman got to his feet and stated, "Yes. Considering the specially arranged section for releasing anger by eliminating wealthy elites, I might raise the score to 7.5 points. It’s a rather decent chapter overall."

The pair proceeded to the prior stage, searching below for any hidden chambers belonging to heretics.

Meanwhile, the five groups who had reached the checkpoint room via the elevator were surprised to discover it was still designated as a cooperative stage. Now, five groups along with one organizer were positioned in rooms at varying elevations within a confined vertical shaft.

To draw a comparison, it bore some resemblance to the film "The Platform": players were situated on different levels, with a hollow shaft occupying the central area of the room. The key difference here was the absence of elevators continuously dispensing food up and down; the shaft was encased in a semi-transparent resin material. All areas were inaccessible except for a single opening designed to allow an arm to pass through.

Nevertheless, due to the semi-transparent nature of the enclosure, the silhouettes of groups above and below were faintly discernible, and one could extend an arm through the opening to acknowledge others.

A chain was suspended in the center of the shaft, just long enough to be grasped with an arm fully extended through the opening. Gazing upward through the aperture revealed a winch mechanism, indicating that the chain was propelled up and down by this device, functioning much like a vertical bicycle chain.

Within the checkpoint room, a door was present, necessitating a key for entry. It appeared the key needed to be retrieved from the middle of the atrium, though the precise method remained elusive.

The moment he entered the room, Stark realized he was in significant trouble. This checkpoint stood out as the most unique among them all, featuring six levels with a considerable vertical drop. The crucial mechanism for controlling the chains was located on the lowest level, which also housed the employee passage entrance and the maintenance room. However, having been the first to enter the checkpoint, Stark found himself on the uppermost level, completely unable to descend without proper access.

He wiped his face vigorously. As he leaned towards the small opening below, he caught sight of a pair of blue eyes intensely staring back at him from the opening on the lower level. Stark gasped and stumbled back a few steps. It was that accursed Soviet!

He swallowed hard, initially intending to let the matter rest. However, he couldn't reconcile the unexplained death of the organizer. Such an event didn't align with the plot's logic, and if he received a negative rating, "Greed" would undoubtedly hold him accountable.

Yet, upon recalling the specific contents of this checkpoint, Stark's face contorted with bitterness. He himself had designed this particular checkpoint, arguably making it the most perilous of them all. Truly, he was now facing the consequences of his own actions.

Soon, a low rumbling sound emanated from the top of the atrium. The airflow and vibrations produced by the rotating mechanism were particularly unsettling as the chains began their slow descent. Accompanying the arrival of descending shadows were blades spinning with ferocious speed, akin to a meat grinder.

At intervals of approximately one meter, blades parallel to the ground were affixed to the chains. These blades rotated wildly, inevitably slicing anything that came too close into fragments. The entire atrium transformed into what appeared to be a vertical meat processing facility, the overlapping hums of countless blades instilling a profound sense of dread.

Those with keen eyesight quickly observed through the small apertures that keys were suspended amidst the spinning blades. This implied that players would need to retrieve the keys from the narrow gaps between the rotating blades.

The chain's movement was not rapid, but the spacing between the blades was exceedingly tight. A meter of clearance was insufficient to extend an arm and then retract it in time. Failure to withdraw promptly would result in the loss of that arm.

The critical issue was that losing an arm not only meant severe injury but also the forfeiture of the key. After careful observation, they determined that exactly six keys were attached to the chains – not a single one more or less.

This arrangement meant that if someone's hand trembled, resulting in the loss of their arm and the subsequent dropping of the key, they would be doomed to remain, and this unfortunate event would also impact the progress of others.

Two individuals possessed a total of four arms. If they were to deliberately disrupt the process with these four limbs, at least four keys could potentially be lost. Consequently, out of the six groups present, only two would ultimately be able to escape.

Up to this point, everyone remained uncertain about the correct strategy. Although the gap between the blades seemed reachable, retrieving the key appeared impossible, presenting itself as a seemingly insurmountable obstacle.

However, a wavering voice soon echoed from the highest level: "Someone must intentionally drop a key for the individual on the lowest level to retrieve. That person can then slow down the chain's speed in the subsequent checkpoint."

Anatoli's eyebrow rose slightly. The atrium, being sealed, prevented them from craning their necks to observe. Furthermore, the observation window was minuscule, offering no clear view of the outside. From their vantage point, the upper levels remained oblivious to the goings-on below.

"You folks at the bottom," he projected his voice, asking, "is it completely sealed down there too?"

"There's no hinge on my end," Bruce's voice echoed back. "It's just an open atrium."

Schiller and Bruce found themselves on the lowest level. Their circumstances were unique; the atrium did not extend through their floor, but rather a gap was punched into the ceiling above. The chain mechanism did not descend, but on the ceiling's side, a device relentlessly churned out and retracted bladed chains, leaving most of the atrium as empty space. Reaching the mechanism from their position was utterly impossible.

Any object plummeting from above was destined to land precisely where they were. With the entire atrium largely sealed, even if objects were deflected by the blades, they would ricochet off the resinous material and inevitably descend to the bottom.

"Why us specifically?" Bruce grumbled, his frustration evident. "This forced idleness is what irks me the most."

His arm remained cradled against his neck, showing no signs of improvement. He scratched his head with the hand he could use, musing, "Honestly, if I were up there, I could probably extend my arm. Since it's already useless, I might as well trade it for a key."

"Is the 'Batman syndrome' acting up again?" Schiller inquired.

Bruce shook his head, replying, "When sacrifice is necessary, one must make use of discarded materials."

"But have you forgotten? There's a host on the top level," Schiller pointed out. "Wouldn't he be the ideal candidate for sacrifice?"

"He wouldn't sacrifice anything, not even for a damn!" Bruce scoffed. "Guys like him are utterly corrupt; they won't give up a thing."

"Whether he sacrifices or not is beyond his control," Schiller stated with a smile.