Night fell without warning.
There was no sunset, no slow transition. Just a snap — and the world went dark, as if someone had flipped a switch and erased the sky.
The group lit a small fire, timid and flickering, protected by salt and markings made with dried blood — all they could improvise with what little they had. Thomas was still unresponsive. Janaína stayed beside him, as if she could protect him from what the world had already planted inside him.
Érica had moved away a bit, sitting with her back against a tree. Adam stood, circling the camp slowly.
He didn't sleep anymore.
Ever since the incident with Larissa, since that cursed night at Crystal Lake... sleep had become the enemy.
But now it was different. He felt the eyes of the place on him. As if the forest itself were breathing. As if the branches were listening.
A sound of bells. Faint, metallic, barely audible.
"You heard that?" Janaína asked, rising slowly.
Adam already had the revolver in hand.
"Yeah. It's starting."
"What?"
He turned to her, eyes focused and voice dry.
"The Final Night."
It didn't take long for the sound to grow. A soft chant echoed through the forest, in a language impossible to understand — and yet it made too much sense. As if each word was being pulled from inside them.
The air grew denser. The ground began to twist in dark spirals. And in the middle of the path, something slowly emerged from nothing.
A figure with a golden mask, body too tall to be human, and arms thin as dry vines.
Adam felt the system vibrate:
[Demonic Presence: 92%]
[Entity: Servant of Paimon – Herald of the Crown]
[Survival Reward: Death]
[Warning: Direct combat not recommended]
The creature didn't speak. It merely extended a hand — and the world trembled.
A roar erupted from deep within the forest. Trees opened like curtains, revealing distorted shadows and floating bodies. Figures with stitched eyes, mouths sealed with wire, and a chorus of children's voices singing the same phrase:
"The crown, the crown, he who falls shall wear the crown..."
Érica screamed.
Thomas began to thrash, muttering something unintelligible.
Adam looked around and made a decision.
"Run. Now."
"But—!"
"I SAID NOW!"
He stayed behind, revolver aimed at the herald. The creature moved like a living painting, ignoring space and time. It didn't walk — it appeared.
Adam took a deep breath. And activated the system:
[Emergency Adrenaline Cartridge – Activated]
[Duration: 2 minutes]
[Strength, speed, and perception temporarily increased]
The world slowed down.
Adam ran.
Not to escape.
To buy time.
Adam charged forward with the fury of someone who had nothing left to lose.
The world around him was a distorted painting. Trees bent to whisper things into his ears. The ground seemed to breathe, alive and hungry. But he didn't stop.
The Adrenaline Cartridge burned inside him like liquid fire. His movements exceeded human limits — but time was ticking.
[Time Remaining: 1 minute and 27 seconds]
The herald appeared ahead, soundless, weightless. Like a shadow deciding where to exist. Each time it appeared, the reality around it shuddered.
Adam rolled to the side at the last second, dodging a claw that hadn't existed a second earlier. The tree behind him split in half from the touch.
"Shit…"
He fired. Once, twice, three times.
The cursed bullets from the Constantine revolver tore through the herald, leaving holes where flesh and darkness once were. But it didn't bleed.
The herald cracked its neck — and laughed.
A dry, childish sound... and wrong.
[Time Remaining: 0 minutes and 51 seconds]
Adam gasped for breath. His body already ached, even with the artificial boost. If he didn't end it soon, the backlash would leave him exposed.
"Then let's dance, bastard…"
He ran. Jumped against a tree trunk, used the momentum to leap over the creature — and drove one of the purified salt stakes straight into the base of its neck.
The herald screamed. Not in pain — in frustration. Like a child denied something.
Reality fractured.
The ground vanished.
And Adam fell.
He woke in the middle of a field of mirrors. Each reflection showed a different version of himself: crying, laughing, hanging, smiling with empty eyes, hugging Larissa... being devoured by Paimon.
[Demonic Influence: 96%]
[Warning: Fractured Reality]
[Psychic Challenge – in progress]
A voice entered his mind. Not his. Not the system's.
"Give us your guilt. Your pain. Your truth. We will return what you lost..."
Larissa appeared before him. Gentle eyes, hands extended.
"You could've saved me, Adam…"
He staggered. His throat went dry. His heart tightened.
[Mental Resistance Check in progress...]
[Result: 67% – Partial Resistance]
"I tried," he whispered. "I tried, damn it…"
Her hand touched his face. Warm. Real.
"Then accept it. Let go. Join us. End the pain…"
For a moment, he almost gave in.
Almost.
But then, he heard it.
Érica's voice, distant, like a real echo:
"Adam! You promised!"
And the memory of Janaína, of Thomas, of the deaths… of those who could still be saved.
He closed his eyes.
"I carry this pain because no one else will."
Then smashed the mirror with his fist.
The illusion shattered.
Adam woke on the ground, gasping. The herald was writhing a few meters away, struggling to reform. The stake still embedded in its neck burned with golden light.
[Time Remaining: 0 minutes and 03 seconds]
He raised the revolver.
"Burn in hell."
And fired one last shot.
The bullet spun through the air like a silver comet.
Impact.
Explosion.
The herald screamed with every voice it had stolen.
And vanished.
Silence.
Adam dropped to his knees. The adrenaline effect faded. Everything hurt. His body was in collapse. But he was breathing.
The system chimed:
[Reward: 3,500 Reward Points]
[Status: Severely Injured – Stage 2]
[Mission Updated: Survive Until Sunrise]
He looked up at the dark sky.
The night wasn't over yet.
And more monsters were coming.