The Finished Artwork

In the shadows, a spider with crimson pupils silently watched everything unfolding in this small clearing.

Its gaze held a sense of keen interest and lingering satisfaction.

Licking its lips, it kept its eyes half-closed.

"I told you, didn't I? Those who don't want to die shouldn't have followed."

With a powerful push from its legs, it leaped onto a silken thread.

Standing firmly upon it, it held a photo album in its hand.

Coleman spoke slowly, "So, what is with all this resentment?"

He bent down, his face drawing incredibly close to the dying man.

The man could clearly see the pleasure and satiation hidden within those blood-red pupils.

He looked like a cat that had just eaten its fill.

Purring with boredom.

His mouth stretched to its widest extent.

Eerie and terrifying.

The excitement on his face was plain to see.

This child seemed extremely satisfied with the current outcome, even feeling happy to have achieved such a result.

He slowly straightened his body and spread his arms, as if inviting others to witness his work.

"Gentlemen, please admire this handmade masterpiece that took half an hour to complete—Dinner Hanging in the Jungle!"

The survivors looked at the child standing still on the silk thread in disbelief.

You call this handmade?

"How is it? A wonderful piece of art, isn't it?"

You call this a piece of art!

A madman, a pure madman!

Why did we ever provoke a guy like this!

Why! Why on earth is this happening?!

Where is our squad leader?

Where is the person who sent us into this jungle?!

Did he run away?!

The moment this thought crossed their minds, the survivors' brains were filled with resentment and murderous intent!

Heh, as expected, leaders are all the same, no matter who they are!

Only we cannon fodder are expected to be the first to charge, while they just stand in the back, watching coldly, ready to claim the credit that belongs to us!

If something goes wrong, he can escape unscathed while leaving us to die.

In the end, if the higher-ups ask questions, he will push all the blame onto us dead men.

After all, there is no one more 'guilty' than a corpse, right?

Since the people are already dead, who would even know the truth?!

Looking down from above, Coleman watched them suddenly tremble with rage, even casting aside the threat of death.

He thought for a moment, then nodded in realization.

With a faint smile, he spoke slowly.

"Oh, right, you can rest easy. Your squad leader was actually the first to die gloriously~ so don't blame him anymore."

The kind-hearted Coleman decided to bear witness for that poor little soul who had been the first to charge and the first to become a work of art.

He reached out a finger, pointing toward the place they had just come from.

"Look, isn't there a guy hanging over there with all his body parts intact?"

"Don't worry, don't worry, he was also dismembered and then reassembled before being put up there."

Adding to this, the fair and impartial Coleman said with a beaming smile, "I absolutely treat everyone equally, especially when it comes to art."

So, he didn't miss out on a single bit of the pain you are feeling now!

How about it? Did you feel for a second that I was absolutely amazing?

I really am the best person in the world, as expected of me!

Looking at the limbs scattered around, Coleman nodded in satisfaction.

Pulling on an unknown thin thread, he intended to end this exhausting performance.

Anyway, the artwork was nearly finished, and now only the final step remained.

He pulled with all his might.

Coleman wore a smile on his face, looking exceptionally amiable.

The next moment.

The survivors were instantly decapitated.

Their expressions froze in that final instant.

Some held the relief of having received an answer, some the terror of fearing for their lives, and others the numbness of those who had long since accepted their fate.

The heads that had just fallen to the ground were hoisted up by silk threads.

They were connected in a regular line, suspended in the very center of the "web."

The rest of the "web" was scattered with other body parts.

There was no pattern, yet it was messily organized.

Coleman stepped onto the silk threads, walked to the center of the web, and turned one of the heads that hadn't been twisted into the right position to face the direction it should.

"Oh, heavens, this is magnificent!"

The praise escaped his lips; Coleman was willing to call this the best handicraft he had completed recently!

This masterpiece featured waiters welcoming guests to dine and food covering the tables.

And in the center, that "Head-Line Connection" served perfectly as a decoration!

Moreover, the facial expressions and demeanors were all different.

It fit Coleman's highest aesthetic standards for humanity perfectly.

Emotion.

He jumped off the silk threads and landed steadily on the ground.

But unfortunately, the floor was filled with pigment, and even though Coleman was very careful, he inevitably got splashed by it.

"Oh, damn it!"

He frowned, looking at the red dye splattered onto the edge of his sneakers.

He clicked his tongue, realized that what was done was done and could not be undone, then strode out of the pool of dye.

Forget it, he would just go back and change into a new pair.

He would treat this pair as a consumable for this job.

Coleman was very generous, letting a pair of shoes serve as a burial gift for these works of art.

He found a suitable corner.

Click.

The camera preserved this feast of art.

Coleman looked at the finished product in his hand and smiled slightly.

Fantastic!

He looked back at the "mice" who had been chasing him an hour ago.

Well, this could be considered a great contribution on your part.

Thinking this, Coleman put the photo away, pulled up his hood, and covered his head.

He kept his head down and left the place.

Leaving only a scene of carnage behind.