A bone-chilling wind howled through the mine shaft, seeping into every gap in their clothing. Within its mournful gusts lurked whispers thick with venomous hatred. The aura around the trembling light orb turned deathly sinister—as if they’d stepped into a haunted village ruin.

Ordinary people would’ve fled screaming under such malicious scrutiny. Yet Mirror October and his companions stood perfectly still, watching the Dire Calamity’s arrival.

This miasma of resentment, those faint wails carried on the wind—it reeked of psychic contamination. Even Long Que, a Dragon Sparrow veteran hardened by countless battles, felt an uncharacteristic restlessness prickle his nerves. He startled inwardly. *How could I waver?* His usual icy composure had cracked without warning.

"My guests grow impatient..." Mirror October’s bloodless lips curled into a razor-sharp smile. Crimson eyes glinted with predatory focus. "Let’s be clear: this game offers no redemption. Neither I nor you deserve salvation. Only *it* holds that right."

He was right.

Mirror October’s faction merely oversaw this trial. Karma always collects its due. No matter your power or status—if your sins fester, if you revel in evil—retribution finds you. Even without the Jigsaw Sect’s hidden hand. This mechanism of divine payback would define the Sect’s future.

"Among you stand unforgivable gang lords, superhero predators wearing human masks, and corrupt officials." Mirror October’s voice shifted—now a steel judge, now a merciless angel. "Your past privileges mean nothing before death." Under a thrill of dark excitement, his tone deepened into Saw’s signature rasp: cold, cruel, utterly devoid of empathy.

He’d spare them if they survived.

*If* these filthy wretches could survive.

"From now on, you’re equals. Will you sacrifice yourselves for comrades? Or slaughter them to live?" Mirror October drank in their desperate stares, his grin widening. "The rules are simple... *There are no rules.* Survive, and you win."

No rules meant no guidance.

No rules meant no limits.

The promise sounded sweet—but its cruelty laid bare Mirror October’s glacial heart. Without his direction, their odds against the Dire Calamity hovered near zero.

Only the pig-faced "superhero"—beaten raw by Long Que—grinned in relief. The other two paled. These old foxes knew: *no rules* was far deadlier than any constraint.

"Now," Mirror October announced, "let’s welcome our guest."

A primal terror erupted—not just from him, but from Long Que and Lu Xiu too. The flickering light had solidified into something grotesque: a pulsating, slime-slick mass of clustered eggs clinging to the mine wall. A sight to freeze arachnophobes solid. Such revolting Dire Calamities were rare; most battlefield horrors at least retained *some* dignity. This one was pure visceral disgust.

*Squelch!*

The sac ruptured. Thick, foul fluid sprayed as an unnaturally elongated claw—skeletal and wrong—slashed through the membrane. A second claw followed. Before fully emerging, its ravenous hunger already choked the air. This was Wendigo: the ancient sin of devouring kin to survive, a corruption that shattered humanity itself.

***ROAR!***

What crawled forth looked freshly dug from a grave. Jagged fangs dripped black-red gore. Pure evil radiated from its emaciated frame—a thing that had torn itself free from death’s embrace.

"Pitiful abomination," Mirror October intoned like a hymn, stepping toward the newborn Wendigo. "Forever starving. Forever vomiting at the scent of true food. Sustained only by fresh human flesh... a restless ghost clinging to cursed existence."

The three captives trembled violently—until Lu Xiu and Long Que silenced them with sharp kicks. Resistance meant death under those boots.

The Wendigo suddenly hissed, its feral gaze locking onto Mirror October. Unthinkable reverence flickered in its eyes. This Dire Calamity—born to drag humans to hell—now studied him like a subject before its king.

Lu Xiu’s silver-blue pupils snapped to pinpricks. Her fingers drifted to her chest, where the Mirror Flower Node pulsed beneath her coat. *What has he become?* Even monsters bowed to him. That look wasn’t fear—it was absolute submission to a higher predator.

"You can’t climb up," Mirror October murmured to the beast, his ruby eyes gleaming with hypnotic danger. "So I brought them down."

"Follow your instincts." His command sliced the silence. "Begin the game."

Most take life for granted...

Not anymore.