The vast expanse of red desert stretches endlessly under a blazing sun. Heatwaves ripple on the horizon, and even the sparse patches of vegetation appear lifeless, buried in sand.
[Live Comments] This place is so dry…
[Live Comments] Turning on my AC just watching this!
[Live Comments] This desert feels hopeless… I miss the rainforest.
[Live Comments] Watching contestants suffer is the fun part, no? Isn't this what we're here for?
[Live Comments] Exactly! The rainforest was too forgiving. The desert is the real challenge!
As noon approaches, Cillian has been walking for three hours.
The water in his bamboo container is almost gone.
It tastes weird, carrying a faintly moldy, woody flavor from sitting too long, but it's better than nothing.
For now, water isn't the most pressing issue—the heat is.
The ground beneath his feet feels like a searing metal plate, and the sun above is relentless.
He estimates the temperature must already be above 50°C. The human body struggles once temperatures exceed 40°C, making heatstroke a very real threat.
Cillian refuses to become a victim of the desert heat. He knows he has to stay sharp.
Luckily, he spots two date palm trees ahead, their shadows casting a patch of shade on the hot sand.
As he steps into the shaded area, the difference is immediate. The oppressive heat eases slightly, and even the sand under his feet feels less scorching.
He glances up at the trees. No fruit hangs from their branches.
Cillian sits for a moment to rest. The respite is brief, though, as the sun shifts, dragging the shadow away.
The heat quickly creeps back, reclaiming its dominance.
He stands and moves to follow the shade, but something catches his attention.
On the ground, a small object rolls rapidly across the sand.
—— It's a dung beetle.
Cillian notices the dung beetle rolling its ball of dung with relentless determination.
Despite its unappealing name and diet, the little creature's effort amuses him.
As the beetle rolls closer, Cillian steps aside, letting it pass.
The beetle heads toward the shaded area without stopping, focused on delivering its food home before the relentless desert sun can claim it.
However, it encounters a problem—a leaf on the sand blocks the path of its dung ball.
The beetle pushes harder, its tiny legs scraping at the sand with desperate energy, but the ball doesn't budge.
Instead, the beetle digs itself into a shallow pit. Realizing the danger, it abandons its precious cargo and scuttles away.
Cillian crouches to inspect the ground and notices the leaf—a vibrant green among the brittle, lifeless foliage scattered across the desert.
His gaze sharpens as he watches the sand slowly sink around the leaf.
Still sinking.
A smirk crosses his face, laced with disdain.
[Live Comments] What's happening?
[Live Comments] Did Cillian figure something out?
Cillian surveys the open desert.
With no one else in sight, he picks up a nearby stone and throws it at the suspicious leaf.
*Boom!
A muffled thud echoes as the leaf disappears, swallowed by a hidden trap.
He steps closer and peers down to see a pit lined with fragile branches arranged in a net, covered by thin layers of leaves and sand.
The trap is meticulously designed, but its creator didn't anticipate a dung beetle disrupting the setup—or someone like Cillian noticing it.
[Live Comments] Damn, the Sorcerer's traps are next level evil.
[Live Comments] He spent half a day digging that yesterday, laughing like a maniac. Creepy.
Cillian instantly knows the Sorcerer is responsible.
But the Sorcerer didn't count on a beetle—or someone thoughtful enough to step aside for one.
Cillian inspects the trap for a moment longer, then grabs some branches to widen the opening.
After a quick test of his voice, he lets out a loud, exaggerated scream: "Ahhh!"
Then, he slips into the narrow gap between the two date palm trees, disappearing from view.
[Live Comments] Umm, Cillian,that was overly staged!!
[Live Comments] Dying of laughter here, what was that?!
[Live Comments] I'm rolling on the floor laughing!
Soon, a small, wiry figure rushes through the heatwaves in the distance.
Cillian narrows his eyes, focusing.
Who else could it be but the Sorcerer?
Hearing the scream, the Sorcerer leaps out of his hiding spot, sand spilling off him as he dashes toward the trap.
He doesn't even bother to shake off the sand. He's so excited as he imagines his prey falling right into his hands.
Not dead, of course.
There aren't any sharp spikes in this trap. Out here in the desert, even simple resources are precious.
Besides, it's still peace mode—killing isn't allowed.
But resources? Oh, those can be taken.
The Sorcerer reaches the edge of the pit and peers inside, but it's too dark to see clearly.
The leaves covering the trap haven't fully fallen through, so he changes his angle, letting sunlight stream in.
Finally, the pit is illuminated.
It's empty!
Not even a rat!
His smirk vanishes as realization dawns. He spins around, but it's too late.
A long leg shoots out and kicks him square in the chest, sending him stumbling backward. His balance fails him, and he topples into his own trap.
Leaves and sand rain down over him, burying him under the debris of his failed plan.
The Sorcerer tries to scramble out, but Cillian is already standing at the edge of the pit, staring down at him calmly.
It isn't the gaze that freezes him—it's the large stone Cillian holds in his hand.
If that rock comes down, it's game over.
"I knew you'd try something like this."
"What, are you going to kill me? It's peace mode."
Cillian replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Funny, because you sure looked like you were ready to kill someone just now. Or were you just planning to take all my stuff? Now give all your stuff to me."
The Sorcerer presses his lips together, refusing to answer.
Cillian casually nudges some sand with his foot, letting it spill into the pit.
The Sorcerer shields his face from the falling sand, then growls, "Cillian! I know where you live! I know who you live with! You'd better kill me now, because if I make it past this round—"
Cillian chuckles lightly, cutting him off.
"You really think your identity is hidden so well, huh? Sure, there's a ton of information about you online, but most of it's fake, right? Something you made up to throw people off?"
The Sorcerer freezes.
[Live Comments] Wait, what? Not real? He's not Leo? Not 45?
[Live Comments] Is Cillian about to drop a bombshell?
Cillian leans forward, peering down at him. In the pit, the already small Sorcerer looks even more diminutive.
"Richard Hawke. Age 43. Orphan. Raised by your grandmother, who's 96 this year and lives in…"
The panic in his eyes betrays him before Cillian even finishes.
Cillian smirks and steps back. He doesn't reveal the address. Instead, he delivers a final blow: "You're not the only one who knows how to fight back."
[Live Comments] Holy crap, gave me goosebumps!
[Live Comments] How did Cillian even figure that out?
[Live Comments] Okay, so the Warrior is kind of terrifying too.
[Live Comments] I've been saying—none of these seven are innocent.
[Live Comments] Carlos has left the chat.
The Sorcerer finally stops spitting threats and tosses his game bag toward Cillian.
Cillian catches it, his movements steady, and immediately checks the inventory.
Inside the first-round items, he finds a knife, rope, and poison. Useful tools from the rainforest.
The bag also contains some leftover food and water—not much, but better than nothing.
Just as Cillian begins to tap on the second-round inventory, he notices the Sorcerer lurch upward, trying to escape.
Cillian reacts instantly, moving to push him back.
But the Sorcerer doesn't try to climb out. Instead, he flings a handful of white powder straight at Cillian's face.
[Live Comments] Oh no, that's poison! Run, Cillian!
[Live Comments] Cillian, dodge!!!
Cillian doesn't dodge.
He instinctively kicks a heap of sand into the pit and follows it with a stone, forcing the Sorcerer back down before he can act further.
The Sorcerer snarls through clenched teeth. "Aren't you afraid that's poison?"
Cillian glances at him, unimpressed.
"Oh, so what if it is? You've been holding it in your bare hands, and you're fine. You think throwing it at me will kill me? And look at my face—I'm wrapped in three layers of cloth. I'm more likely to suffocate myself than get poisoned. You blind?"
The Sorcerer looks like he's about to explode with rage, but Cillian ignores him, focusing instead on the second-round inventory.
The highlight?
A map.
"Thanks."
"Scram!" The Sorcerer spits back, seething.
Cillian empties the rest of the bag, taking everything of value.
Just as he's about to leave, he notices a bamboo tube filled with water.
After a moment of consideration, he sticks the tube into the sand near the pit.
"Here, I'll leave you a little water."
[Live Comments] What is this, a redemption arc? I don't love this anymore.
[Live Comments] Cillian, please! Be ruthless!
Cillian knows the Sorcerer won't trail him—not immediately, anyway.
The Sorcerer may be cruel, but he prefers sneaky, indirect methods.
But Cillian also knows this won't be the end.
Their feud has already gone too far. If the Sorcerer gets the chance, he'll definitely retaliate.
That's just how this game works: betrayal and survival.
Cillian pulls up the map he took from the Sorcerer. The electronic display shows a detailed layout of the entire desert.
He even spots clusters of oases on the map.
However, they are so tiny that they're nearly invisible, clearly not what he's searching for.
He's looking for the ancient city—the sole objective of this round.
But the map doesn't show anything resembling a city, not even the ruins of an old wall.
Frustrated, Cillian rolls up the map. Then, an idea strikes him, and he heads back.
The Sorcerer is crouched by his pit, carefully resetting the trap with sticks and leaves.
This time, he piles on more sand, clearly aiming to cause serious injuries to anyone who falls in.
Hearing footsteps behind him, the Sorcerer spins around, scowling.
"What do you want now?"
"I'm waiting for someone. You carry on—I won't bother." Cillian replies evenly.
The Sorcerer narrows his eyes, skeptical, but when he's sure Cillian isn't looking for trouble, he resumes working on his trap.
Every now and then, he glances at Cillian, who remains calm and alert under the tree's shade.
The Sorcerer can't help but notice Cillian's striking features and undeniable strength.
The Warrior is the kind of man who naturally stands out.
But Cillian made a fatal error: choosing Carlos as his ally—the weakest one of the six.
"Waiting for Carlos, huh? Worried I'll kill him?" The Sorcerer sneers, standing up and dusting off his hands.
"By the time your team mate gets here tomorrow, the peace mode will be over."
"None of your business," Cillian replies coolly. "I won't mess with your trap. Feel free to leave."
The Sorcerer doesn't leave.
Instead, he joins Cillian under the shade, watching the horizon with wary eyes.
Cillian pays him no mind—he had expected the Sorcerer to linger.
A tricky man like the Sorcerer wouldn't walk away without causing some chaos.
Time passes, and the sun blazes hotter. Even in the shade, the desert heat is relentless.
The Sorcerer digs a shallow pit to sit in, trying to cool off with the slightly cooler sand below the surface. But it's not enough.
His real problem is water—or the lack of it.
The bamboo stick Cillian left still sits in the sand, its water evaporating rapidly.
The Sorcerer doesn't touch it.
As dehydration starts taking its toll, he grows restless and irritable.
Cillian suddenly speaks, "The water in the bamboo—it's poisoned, isn't it?"
The Sorcerer chuckles darkly.
[Live Comments] What?! Poisoned water?!
[Live Comments] Cillian is always one step ahead.
[Live Comments] He's not just strong—he's terrifyingly smart.
"You picked three items in the first round: a knife, rope, and poison. You used the poison on the water, didn't you?"Cillian's voice remains calm.
"You avoided the water just because you saw the poison?"
It must be incredibly difficult for people to resist water in the desert.
"Not just that." Cillian says with a faint smile.
"Then why didn't you take it?"
Cillian's eyes gleam with mockery as he replies, "Because I read minds."
"Bullsh*t."
As the heat grows unbearable, the Sorcerer finally gives up. His lips are parched, his mind fuzzy, and his body weak from losing water.
He abandons his trap, stumbles out of the shade, and disappears into the desert.
Once the Sorcerer is gone, Cillian calmly sits down under the tree to wait for Carlos.
***
At six in the evening, dinner is served in the manor.
Carlos finishes the last bean sprout on his plate, officially marking the end of the meal.
He looks at the butler and says, "I'm still hungry."
The butler responds politely, "We prepare meals based on your daily caloric needs. The portions are sufficient to sustain your activities for the day."
"So, I won't see food again until tomorrow morning?"
"That is correct."
Carlos keeps holding his chopsticks, thinking for a moment.
"May I ask, on which day's activity did you base your calculations?"
"For all contestants, we calculated based on last Sunday."
"Oh—" Carlos nods in understanding. "Then your calculations are incorrect."
"Please explain," the butler says, still composed.
"I'm an adult male. Using the formula for basal metabolic rate, which is 15.2×67+680, my resting metabolic rate is 1,698.4 calories. This means even if I just lie in bed all day, I burn almost 1,700 calories.
"Last Sunday, I rested all day. No chores, no heavy activity—just light physical activity, which burns an average of 95 calories per hour. I was active for about 8 hours. So, 95×8 equals 760 calories. Adding that to my resting rate, my total caloric burn was 2,458.4."
[Live Comments] …What?
[Live Comments] How does he calculate this so fast? And down to the decimal point?!
Carlos continues, "But today, I walked briskly around the manor for an hour, trimmed some plants, and played with a cat. These fall under moderate activity, which burns about 170 calories per hour. Multiply that by 24 hours, and that's 4,080 calories."
"Wait," the butler interrupts, sensing something amiss. "You were only active for two hours."
Carlos blinks innocently. "Oh, right. My mistake. Let's lower it to match Sunday's 8-hour estimate then. Still, my total caloric needs today far exceed the amount of food you've provided."
The butler feels a moment of confusion.
Why does the argument sound…reasonable?
Even though the math clearly shifted mid-sentence?
Carlos presses on, his tone sincere. "In conclusion, using Sunday's baseline to define my caloric needs for today is inaccurate and unscientific."
"So, what are you suggesting…?" the butler asks hesitantly.
Carlos locks eyes with him, his expression earnest. "I need a top-up meal."
[Live Comments] HAHAHAHA this guy is a legend.
[Live Comments] He's mastered the art of negotiation, Cillian would be proud.
[Live Comments] GIVE THE MAN HIS EXTRA FOOD, I'M BEGGING YOU.
The butler pauses before finally conceding, "Very well, sir."