The Cursed Book?

At the edge of the state.

An old villa stood alone in the middle of the barren land.

In the clearing in front of it, a burly Black man held a professional livestreaming gimbal, spitting as he swore at the camera.

He was in his early thirties and stood a full two meters tall. His muscles strained against his tight black tank top. A snarling dragon was tattooed on his arm, and a heavy gold chain hung around his neck, swinging with his movements.

"F**k! Are those cowards coming or not? I've been waiting here for almost three hours! They all talked such a big game when they signed up, but now that it's time to show up, they've all fucking chickened out?"

His eyes were full of impatience, and he kept waving his free hand.

"These are supposed to be horror enthusiasts? More like useless keyboard warriors! I'll give them another half hour. Anyone who isn't here by then can fuck off. I don't have time to waste on them!"

A dozen or so people had already gathered around him. Most were young people in their twenties, their clothes and styling exuding a loud, rebellious streak.

One wore a skull-print hoodie and leaned against a tree with both hands in his pockets, surveying the villa with a defiant gaze.

Another carried a hiking backpack and played with a multipurpose knife, his face lit with eager excitement.

There were also two girls in revealing clothes, touching up their makeup using their phones and talking quietly. Their eyes held both nervousness and an unmistakable thrill.

They had all traveled long distances after seeing the recruitment post on the Horror Forum.

The forum was becoming increasingly well-known in their circles. Usually, they took part in extreme sports sponsored by Red Bull, such