Winnie Morgan felt a bit uncomfortable under James Lone's gaze, but she still spoke up: "Hello, my name is Winnie Morgan. I'm an ability user, and I can create water. These guys are also ability users. I think we should work together to escape from here. And about Delwen Dowlin..."

She lowered her voice. "He's a terrible person. If it weren't for him chasing us, we wouldn't have been cornered here."

The three male ability users nodded in agreement.

"Yes! We should team up!" "This tentacle monster is way too strong. If we try to run one by one, none of us will make it out alive." "We need to come up with a plan together..."

James Lone had no interest in cooperation, nor did he care to chat with a bunch of people who were as good as dead.

Except for Winnie Morgan, everyone here was going to die.

James replied indifferently, "Sorry, I'm not interested."

With that, he closed his eyes again.

The four of them looked visibly upset.

One of the male ability users growled in anger, "You think you're invincible just because you're strong? Let me tell you, Delwen Dowlin is incredibly fast—you wouldn't stand a chance against him!"

Winnie Morgan chimed in, "Exactly! His speed is insane, we can't even react to it. No matter how strong you are, if you can't hit him, you'll lose!"

At that moment, Delwen Dowlin strode over and barked, "What are you all whispering about? Say it so I can hear!"

Winnie Morgan and the others jumped, startled. Not daring to confront Delwen directly, they quickly retreated back into the group of survivors.

Delwen glared at their backs with cold malice.

If it weren't for the tentacle monster trapping them here—and his need to keep the survivors alive as shields—he would've killed all of them already.

The tentacle monster clearly had no interest in dead bodies.

Burkitt's corpse had been lying on the ground for hours, and the monster hadn't taken it to make a cocoon.

Delwen snorted coldly, shot James a venomous look, and left without saying a word.

Unless absolutely necessary, he wouldn't kill James just yet.

At the very least, James could still serve as a meat shield.

To Delwen, James was nothing more than a brute with strength—no match for his unmatched speed.

The survivors split into two groups.

Delwen and his lackeys huddled together on one side, while Winnie Morgan and the other survivors stayed on the opposite side.

Only James Lone sat alone in the center of the court, cross-legged and motionless, as if meditating.

No one knew what he was doing.

Time passed quickly.

The psychological pressure on everyone grew heavier with each passing moment, and the tension was palpable.

As expected, the tentacle monster eventually struck again, grabbing a girl and cocooning her high up on the ceiling.

The girl screamed pitifully: "Help me! Someone save me!" "Delwen Dowlin! Save me! I'll do whatever you want, just save me!" "Mom! I'm scared!"

The tentacle monster ignored her screams but didn't kill her either.

It was clear—the monster only liked living prey.

The survivors were terrified, yet they breathed a sigh of relief.

At least for the next hour, they were safe.

Winnie Morgan and the others took out their food and ate quietly. Winnie used her ability to create water and distributed it to everyone.

The girl's screams echoed throughout the basketball court as the survivors ate in silence, their faces grim.

Meanwhile, Delwen Dowlin and his men were hungry too.

But they had come to kill, not to carry supplies—none of them had brought food.

"What do we do, boss?" one of his lackeys asked, staring at Delwen with pleading eyes.

Delwen smirked cruelly. "What do we do? We take it!"

He grabbed his machete and strode over to the survivors.

"Hand over half your food and water!" he demanded.

"Why should we?!" a young man retorted angrily.

Before the words had fully left his mouth, Delwen slashed his throat.

Slash!

The boy's eyes widened in disbelief as he clutched his neck and collapsed to the ground, blood pooling around him.

Delwen screamed furiously, "Idiot! You think I'm negotiating with you?!"

The survivors trembled in fear, looking desperately at Winnie Morgan and the other ability users for help.

But Winnie and the others lowered their heads, unwilling to intervene.

If they could've stopped Delwen, they wouldn't have fled here in the first place.

"Move it!" "Didn't you hear Delwen? Hand it over!" "Hey, you! Put down that bread! Stop eating it!"

Delwen's lackeys rushed forward, beating and kicking the survivors as they took more than half of their food.

The students didn't dare resist, biting their lips in silent rage.

Delwen and his men laughed as they tore into the stolen food.

"Damn, these instant noodles are terrible!" "Not even an egg in here—how is this supposed to fill me up?!" "Ugh, this sausage is expired!"

They wasted the food without a second thought, enjoying every moment of their cruelty.

The survivors' eyes burned with fury, but they could do nothing.

A sudden, sweet scent of chocolate wafted through the air.

Everyone turned to see James Lone casually unwrapping a bar of Dove chocolate. He ate it slowly, then pulled out a carton of milk from his pocket and drank it, followed by a bag of beef jerky.

The group stared at him, their eyes wide with disbelief.

Where is he even getting this stuff?

Even Delwen Dowlin couldn't help but swallow hard, staring at James. But he held himself back—for now. As long as he had food, he wouldn't take the risk.

Time ticked by.

All eyes were on the ceiling, where the tentacle monster stirred again.

A tentacle shot out toward a young man in the crowd.

Terrified, the man grabbed the girl next to him and shoved her in front of him.

The tentacle wrapped around the girl instead, lifting her into the air as she screamed: "Artair! Artair! I won't forgive you, even in death!"

Artair stammered, "It's not my fault! I was scared, okay?! I didn't mean to—it just happened!"

No one said a word.

But after witnessing this betrayal, everyone began to distrust each other.

The tension grew. Survivors subtly distanced themselves from one another, unwilling to stand too close.

James Lone ignored all of it.

He continued practicing his breathing technique, indifferent to everything happening around him.

As long as Winnie Morgan stayed alive, nothing else mattered.

One by one, unlucky survivors were dragged into the air and turned into cocoons.

Anyone who tried to escape met the same fate.

Some attempted to hide in corners, but the monster's tentacles were agile and could reach anywhere.

A few tried to climb out through the windows but were snatched mid-climb.

No one could figure out how the monster chose its targets, nor who would be next.

Everyone was suffocating under the psychological pressure—except James Lone.

Sitting calmly in the center of the court, he hadn't moved an inch.

Oddly enough, the monster never targeted him.

Night fell.

The dim glow from the cocoons illuminated the court, casting eerie shadows on everyone's faces.

Even as darkness descended, the monster didn't stop creating cocoons.

Under the immense mental strain, some survivors dozed off—only to be snatched in their sleep.

Their bloodcurdling screams echoed through the court, keeping everyone else from getting any proper rest.

By morning, everyone looked exhausted, their eyes sunken and ringed with darkness.

Except for James Lone.

With a physique rating of 90, he didn't even feel tired after staying awake all night.

By midday, hunger gnawed at the survivors, as Delwen had already taken all of their food.

Starving and weak, they could do nothing but endure.

James Lone, meanwhile, casually pulled out a vacuum-sealed roast chicken from his pocket and began eating.

The group gawked at him in disbelief.

What is he, Doraemon? How does he even fit a whole chicken in his pocket?!

Delwen Dowlin finally lost his patience. Tossing aside a packet of instant noodles, he stormed over to James and snarled, "You idiot, hand over your—what the f—?!"

James calmly drew a gun and aimed it at Delwen's head.

"Go on," James said with a serene smile. "I'm listening."

Delwen froze, his brain short-circuiting.

What the hell?! Where did he get a gun?!

Is he a cop?

No, that's impossible. He doesn't look like a cop at all.

Coming to his senses, Delwen puffed up his chest and shouted, "You think I'm scared of a fake gun?! Go ahead, shoot me if you—"

Bang!

A thin wisp of smoke trailed from the barrel.

Delwen staggered backward, a bullet hole dead center on his forehead. He collapsed onto his back, eyes wide open in disbelief, dead on the spot.

The survivors stared, stunned into silence.

Delwen Dowlin... was dead?

James lowered the gun and said calmly, "Well, he asked for it. You all saw—he told me to shoot him."

A collective shiver ran through the group.