Lin started to curve his path, glancing toward a slightly elevated area with dense trees. From the way the rock had moved, it was the most likely location to find the beast. As if to confirm his thoughts, Roben on the far side was already curving toward that direction, aiming to flank from the far right. Lin took a quick glance back, noticing that a few of them had reached a small patch of trees, hiding behind them while cautiously looking ahead.

  He immediately dashed toward the trees ahead, carefully watching his step to avoid falling into the nearby swamps. Mud piled under his shoes, dragging down his speed with each step, but he pressed on.

  1:34

  This should be fine, he thought, recalling the rules for the first clear condition.

  Clear Conditions (Choose one):

  ● 90% survive until their timers reach zero.

  ● Kill the Soul-vor beast.

  “90% survive until their timers reach zero.”

  Using some wordplay, Lin surmised that if an individual’s timer hit zero, they would be considered to have “survived until their timer reached zero”—even if they died immediately afterward. This meant that if he and Roben were to die fighting against the Minotaur, they would still be counted in the percentage of those who “survived until their timers reached zero.”

  1:38

  Lin continued forward, finally reaching the trees. He stopped and created a dagger through [Form] before stepping into the dense foliage. Without hesitation, he began dashing forward, paying no regard to the rough and rigid ground.

  His sole aim was to find the beast as quickly as possible and, hopefully, forcefully push it back to buy more time.

  The real reason he had chosen to flank the Minotaur wasn’t to catch it off guard or to avoid the stones it might throw. Instead, it was a strategic deadlock designed to force the Minotaur to “run away.”

  (error on illustration: Going toward them triggers the timers to quicken) As the two of them approached from both sides, the Minotaur’s only viable choice was to back away, since the rest of their group was already advancing down the middle. If they entered the 40-meter range, their timers would quickly burn out.

  If the beast attempted to continue attacking, it risked getting flanked by Lin and Roben, who might hold it down long enough to drain everyone’s timers. Moreover, the moment it chose to engage them in battle, the rest of the group might reach its 40-meter zone without it even noticing.

  It was what Lin would call a “simple” strategy, primarily because it utilized everyone involved to achieve the best possible outcome.

  However, even such a high-level plan could be countered...

  Instinct.

  Lin suddenly came to a halt, spotting the Minotaur between the treelines as it charged toward him at full speed, its massive bat resting on its shoulder, ready to swing at the slightest movement. Seeing this, Lin couldn’t help but smile.

  “That’s right,” he muttered, just loud enough for the beast to hear. Instead of running away from the two, it had chosen the furthest person—him—and rushed straight toward him, ensuring it reached its target before the other could intervene.

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  As the thought crossed his mind, Lin continued in a much louder tone, the corners of his mouth rising into a frantic smile.

  “The best counter is to cut ahead and chase one of us down!”

  1:45

  The beast ignored his taunt, its bat descending toward him in a powerful swing. Lin immediately jumped back, a loud crash reverberating as the weapon smashed into a nearby tree, splinters flying everywhere. The Minotaur’s face reddened with rage.

  Seizing the opportunity, Lin turned and dashed in the direction of their main group. But after just a few steps, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He instinctively ducked as something zipped above his head, crashing into a nearby tree.

  Chunks of wood sprayed across the ground as the tree bent under its own weight before snapping and falling.

  1:48

  Lin turned, his eyes locking onto the Minotaur, which was already holding another stone in its hand, presumably formed through [Form]—ready to toss it once more. Yet something about the pause just now seemed... uncanny.

  Is it trying to tell me not to run?

  Lin wondered to himself, amazed at how many times the beast continued to surprise him. It understood risk. It knew that by giving chase, it was inadvertently placing itself closer to the main group, increasing the likelihood of them entering its 40-meter range.

  Even if it defeated Lin, it wouldn’t take long for Roben to join in, preventing it from retreating. At the same time, the beast strangely seemed to realize that after witnessing its last attack, Lin wouldn’t risk turning his back on it.

  Instinct or intelligence.

  Which one is it?

  Just as humans can transcend physical limits to overcome a physically superior foe, could a wild predator trigger a similar compensatory mechanism, pushing it to bridge the line between instinct and intelligence? Could it reach a level of cognition that rivaled the best minds humanity could offer?

  Pure instinct.

  Lin smiled, a flicker of curiosity lighting his face. He removed his coat before tossing it to the ground. Immediately afterward, he conjured a small box in one hand and a stick in the other.

  Sliding the stick across the box, a flame ignited instantly.

  The Minotaur’s expression darkened, but Lin, remaining completely calm, dropped the matchstick, letting it fall slowly toward the ground.

  The Minotaur—perhaps instinctively recognizing the toxicity of the swamp region—seemed to understand exactly what would happen if a fire came into contact with the muddy ground. Following its immediate instincts, it began to retreat, trying to escape the area. What had initially seemed like the ideal location to isolate Lin and kill him now appeared to be the most dangerous, with the abundance of trees providing ample fuel for a fire.

  However, just as it turned its back on Lin, he bent down swiftly, catching the burning matchstick in his hand.

  His palm burned slightly, but he simply clenched his fist, immediately extinguishing the flame. In the same calm motion, he raised his other hand, lifting his gun and aiming it at the spot where the Minotaur was about to step.

  1:57

  A manic smile spread across his face as he muttered,

  “Human intelligence will always win.”

  He pulled the trigger.

  A roaring flame engulfed the Minotaur, rushing toward Lin in an instant. The fiery explosion that followed was deafening, illuminating the entire area.

  Lin’s ears rang violently, and as the fire began to scorch his skin, his vision suddenly shifted. A familiar landscape came into view before him—snow slowly falling all around as his feet sank into the icy surface.

  “Not bad,” he muttered to himself as a bluish screen popped up in the next moment, white steam rising from his body while his wounds began to heal.

  [You have killed the Minotaur]

  [Congratulations on completing the first trial]

  “My timing was a bit off,” he said, recalling the moment the explosion struck and the minor burns he’d sustained from the fire.

  The idea of self-sacrifice to secure victory for the group was something he’d briefly considered in the final moments. However, deep down, he knew it was an outcome that would never truly come to fruition.

  Whether due to hindsight or plain arrogance, as he looked back on the entire trial, Lin couldn’t help but conclude that, despite the Minotaur’s ability to learn, it never truly stood a chance against them.

  Even without my presence, they would’ve won.

  Whether to convince himself or because he genuinely believed those thoughts, the idea lingered in Lin’s mind—a small belief, or rather, a small wish—that among the 20 individuals, even as chaos unfolded, at least one of them, any of them, had the same thought that crossed his mind.

  [Overload rule] — If all participants (100%) are in a single region for more than 2 minutes, they will all be randomly teleported to different regions.