Chapter 64 Theater: [3W Nutrient Solution Bonus Chapter]

Chapter 64: Theater: "3W Nutrient Solution Bonus Update"

Everly lowered her voice and filled Old John and Misha in on her plan to destroy the sacrificial array.

"Too dangerous—let me go instead." Old John was the first to object.

Everly shook her head. "No. That duct is suspended in midair. Gramps, you're too heavy—you might collapse it."

"What about me?" Misha raised her hand to volunteer.

Judging by the sweat on her brow and her clenched jaw, Misha was actually scared. Even so, when someone needed to step up, she didn't hesitate to volunteer. This made Everly see her old classmate in a new light.

Just as you'd expect from a Lemort townsperson—even as a young girl, she had uncommon grit and drive.

Too bad this was something only she could do...

Everly shook her head again, hedging. "I'm the only one with the means to destroy the array, and I know the way there and back better than you. I'm the best one for this."

With that, seeing Misha open her mouth to protest, Everly waved a hand. "Okay, we're running out of time. It's decided. Misha, you and Grandpa will keep watch over the manhole. I'll leave my phone here—as soon as you get the code, call the police to open it. I'm heading over now to the stage to destroy the array."

With that, Everly switched phones with Old John, took his phone, and started crawling toward the stage.

Everly wasn't wrong about one thing—she did know the route to the stage better than Misha.

From the performance hall to the prop room, Old John had taken a very roundabout route to avoid the endless masked figures. If you didn't have a sense of the backstage layout, you'd easily get turned around and wouldn't be able to retrace the exact same path.

Everly had no such problem. Even in the narrow, enclosed duct, she still had a strong sense of direction. She could improvise, picking the safest and quickest route among the many branches.

The slaughter in the waiting hall had drawn off most of the masked figures. On her way to the stage, Everly encountered only three or four scattered individuals, so she had to dodge far fewer of them. Soon, she arrived at the entrance of the ventilation duct above the stage.

From here, the duct went from being set into the wall to hanging outside it. She had to be extremely careful crawling, as Everly couldn't be sure whether the metal brackets (she had no idea what they were called) securing the duct were sturdy enough to bear her weight.

Pausing at the duct opening, Everly took a deep breath and tentatively pressed one hand onto the ventilation duct ahead. Once she was sure it was solid, she slowly placed her second hand, then tried shifting her weight.

The weight of her upper body pressed down heavily through both arms. Maybe it was her imagination, but Everly could've sworn she heard a faint creaking from the duct under her hands.

When she felt the duct give way slightly beneath her, cold sweat broke out on her back almost immediately. She scooted back, shifted her weight, and pulled one hand away. Sure enough, as her palm lifted, the duct let out another "creak" and slowly rebounded upward.

—This wasn't good. This vent duct was really flimsy. If she crawled on all fours like before, it probably wouldn't support her.

Everly paused at the duct opening, hesitant.

Meanwhile, the screams from the waiting hall continued. As a "show" meant to please an evil deity, those innocent people weren't going to die quickly. The masked figures would use every means to torment them—hacking with blades and axes, gouging flesh and stripping bone, pulling nails, smashing teeth, sawing off limbs, branding skin with irons... Scenes from those videos resurfaced in Everly's mind, along with the distant wails of the damned.

The sickening images churned her stomach, but they also reignited the courage in her chest.

She hated people who treated others' lives like toys, and she hated torture and death. If she didn't destroy the sacrificial array quickly, not only would the captives die—she, her grandfather, and Misha would be doomed as well... It was just a matter of taking a few risks. Compared to that, being drained dry as a sacrifice was even worse!

Let me try again. If I spread the pressure out more, maybe...

With that thought, Everly let out a long, heavy breath, adjusted her position, and switched from crawling on hands and knees to lying flat on her stomach. This way, her weight was spread over a larger area of the duct.

Staying prone, Everly crawled forward inch by inch, slowly.

The initial progress went smoothly. With her whole body pressed against the duct, it no longer sagged heavily as before.

But these ducts weren't built for crawling. As she moved, the duct walls scraped and bumped against the external metal brackets, inevitably producing "creak, creak" sounds. Especially when Everly's upper body was fully inside and she pushed off the duct behind her to move her lower half, the scraping intensified dramatically. For a few seconds, Everly almost thought she'd fall with the duct.

For safety, Everly had to stop, lying as still as a wooden dummy, enduring the dust that rushed into her nose with each breath and the centipede-like tickle of cold sweat trickling down her forehead.

One second, two seconds... After waiting, the imagined fall didn't happen. Though it swayed precariously, the old ventilation duct held!

In just that short time, the screams outside had already dwindled. Everly estimated that the second batch of captives had been tortured to near death. The masked figures would likely upload the video to the forum soon, drawing more attention, and then the sacrificial ritual would formally begin... There was still a long stretch to the second vent opening. She couldn't stay put—this was about everyone's lives!

Once her entire body was inside the duct, crawling became even harder. Everly could no longer push off the duct behind her to propel forward, nor could she straighten up, since the duct was fragile—any point bearing too much weight would cause it to sag. Helpless, Everly had to move like someone paralyzed from the waist down: arms stretched forward, fingers hooking into the duct's seams, dragging her entire body forward with upper-body strength alone.

This was no easy feat. The duct hadn't been cleaned in ages, with a thick layer of dust accumulated. Lying on it, Everly had to breathe carefully or she'd choke and cough. The thick dust also increased friction, requiring even more strength to drag herself along.

Compared to the dust, the duct's seams were so narrow there was barely anywhere to grip. To move her body, Everly had to dig her fingers in harder. Before long, cuts appeared on her fingertips, and the nail on her right middle finger split, leaving a deep red bloodstain in the nail bed.

God, it hurt...

Everly clenched her teeth, forcing herself to cast aside distractions and continue forward along the duct.

The only good news was that after passing the entrance section, the ventilation duct rarely made "creak" sounds during the rest of the crawl—probably because a loose bracket near the entrance had been the source of the noise.

And so she wriggled through the duct like a maggot—one meter, two meters... After arduous crawling, finally, the first vent opening appeared ahead.

Everly lay on the vent cover, peering down through the gaps with hopeful eyes, observing carefully. Unfortunately, the magic circle was still further ahead. Pouring contaminants from here wouldn't affect it. She needed to keep crawling.

Another piece of bad news: the masked figures had returned.

Carrying blood-stained cold weapons, they swaggered into the auditorium and dispersed to various corners of the hall. Even without seeing their expressions, their relaxed, satisfied gait radiated intense excitement and gratification.

These people clearly relished the blood feast they'd just had.

After entering the hall, the masked figures grouped in twos and threes, busying themselves with their own tasks.

Several walked onto the stage, selecting a few male and female corpses to lay flat on the open ground. They dressed the bodies in costumes, painted grotesque expressions on the dead faces with greasepaint, and used wooden sticks and ropes to bind the joints, posing them in bizarre positions.

Everly knew they were making "decorations" to adorn the mountain of corpses. The more bizarre and terrifying the scene, the happier their "master" would be.

Others gathered around the pig-masked figure, watching as he operated a laptop with blood-stained fingers, uploading the video they'd just filmed to the internet.

"That was so intense—I want to kill two more, boss, can I?"

"No. Kill more and we won't have enough sacrifices. Be patient. Once the ritual succeeds and my lord bestows power, you can kill as many mere humans as you want."

"I can hardly wait..."

"..."

Knowing time was short, Everly stopped observing. She pushed with her arms, ready to continue forward. But just as her body moved, a puff of dust suddenly sifted down through the vent opening, landing on a female corpse below.

It was dust swept off by her body!

Everly lay on the vent cover, watching helplessly as the masked figure beside the corpse—the one painting a "grinning" expression on it with greasepaint—wiped a hand across the body. He seemed puzzled, wondering where the dust had come from. He looked around left and right, then finally looked up, an elephant mask facing directly toward Everly's direction.

Everly nearly stopped breathing from fright. Even so, facing his scrutiny, she remained perfectly still, not daring to make any evasive move. Because the duct was too fragile—if she moved now, made any sound, or dislodged more dust, she'd almost certainly be discovered.

Sure enough, her decision was correct. The ventilation duct was located in the ceiling beyond the reach of the lights, and the vent cover's grille was angled. Looking out from inside was fine, but from outside, it was hard to see anything within the duct. The masked figure looked up for a moment, likely deciding the dust was just accumulated grime falling from the aged stage ceiling, then dismissed it and lowered his head to continue working on the corpse.

Everly let out a long sigh of relief.

She wiped the cold sweat threatening to drip into her eyes with her elbow, steadied her nerves, and moved with even greater care—inch by inch, painstakingly passing through this perilous point.