A stream of fresh blood sprayed onto the ground, instantly staining the pristine white ice a vivid red.
John felt as if all his organs had been violently shaken.
In that moment, his hands trembled so violently that he could barely hold onto his knife.
He felt a surge of blood in his chest, and the next second, blood flowed from all seven of his orifices.
He bit down hard on his teeth, trying not to show any other signs of distress, but the moment the blood flowed out, it turned into blood-red shards of ice, looking particularly terrifying.
He knew that Alastair's condition must be just as terrible as his own, but it was a matter of seeing who could last longer.
Everyone was acutely aware that things were not as simple as they seemed, but what would they do if they truly had to give everything up?
Therefore, someone had to survive this ordeal! And without any doubt, that person had to be himself.
Absolutely himself!
