Spatial Anomaly

The southwest corner of the clearing.

Unlike the small groups gathered in the other corners, only a single middle-aged brute sat here alone, seeming utterly out of place among the surrounding crowd.

His hair hung loose and wild, his back broad and waist thick. Bare-chested, pale-skinned, and knotted with muscle, his heavily haired face was crammed with savage, beastlike wrinkles. His two enormous hands, tipped with sharp claws, constantly scratched at his cheeks, leaving bloody wounds across the rough skin.

This self-mutilating behavior made the man seem as though he were forcibly suppressing some desire. At the same time, his limbs were smeared with dried blood—but it was not his own. It belonged to the prey he had targeted earlier.

The man's name was Taitino. From the instant he was born, his life had been bound to the words violence and bloodlust. Even among this elite group of clowns, the sheer intensity of his killing intent made him an outlier among outliers.

Yet the brutal slaughter with the Hunters earlier had failed to satisfy Taitino's thirst for killing. Instead, Theater veterans like Ding Moluo had stolen all the limelight, and before he could even indulge in his special dietary habits, he had been locked inside the "Maze Cube."

Now, forced to endure another dozen-odd minutes of tedious torment in this bizarre Labyrinth, Taitino—already violent by nature—felt extraordinarily irritated and stifled.

"Ah..."

"Not enough. Not enough. Those earlier ones were nowhere near enough."

"I want to kill more people..."

"I want to drink more blood..."

"I can't hold it in much longer. I really can't hold it in anymore!"

Taitino muttered these words to himself with a ferocious expression, his sharp claws gouging more bloody blossoms into his cheeks. Hot saliva streamed from his gaping maw, causing his bloodstained, ghostly back