Everly handed Misha’s phone to Old John so her grandfather could also understand the current situation. She then took out her own phone and, through the grate, snapped a few photos of the scene below, focusing on the mound of corpses and the inverted pentagram magic circle that made her feel deeply uneasy.
After taking the photos, she turned off the cara and was just about to call Rebecca to check in when her phone suddenly lit up with an incoming call. Fortunately, Everly rembered Rule 25 of horror movie survival: keep all devices that can make noise on silent when hiding your location. She had already reminded the three of them to turn off call alerts and vibrations on their phones. Otherwise, even a single ringtone could attract the attention of the attackers below.
The call ca from an unknown number. Everly hadn’t planned to answer, but considering she had very few friends—her phone hardly ever rang in a week or two—she thought that a sudden call in this situation might be important.
After a mont’s hesitation, she picked up and held the phone to her ear.
To her surprise, the caller was a Micano police officer. He gave his badge number and could clearly na the detective who had helped Everly with the gan Clinic dental case four years ago, confirming his identity was genuine.
The officer had contacted Everly through a volunteer service platform. After suppressing any resistance, the masked figures had confiscated and destroyed all the hostages’ phones, and with the theater’s defenses—three layers inside, three layers outside—tightly secured, the police had no idea how many kidnappers there were, what firearms they possessed, or the condition of the hostages.
Before Everly, the police had already made hundreds of calls, trying to communicate with hostages inside to gather intelligence. This even included calls to Old John, who had made the initial ergency call—but none of the calls were answered.
So when Everly quietly spoke to the officer, he initially thought he must be imagining it.
“I’m Everly Minas. When the danger started, my companions and I found a way to hide, which is how we managed to survive…” Everly didn’t speak too clearly, worried there might be a mole among the police—after all, in many horror films, the good cops are often eliminated within the first five minutes, and nine out of ten cops who survive to the end turn out to be villains. She simply described what she had seen in the auditorium, reported the approximate number of black-clad figures inside, and ntioned that they were ard with pistols and submachine guns.
“Alright, alright. Thank you, Miss Everly. Your information is extrely useful. I’ll report it to my superiors imdiately. Please make sure you protect yourself, stay hidden, and do not act rashly. We are working on a way to enter the theater. Trust that the police will never give up on you—just be patient. If we need to ask anything later, we may call again, so please answer if you can…”
The officer repeated his warnings several tis before hanging up.
Everly hung up and had Old John check his phone. Sure enough, the sa number had called him earlier, but because he was crawling through the ventilation duct at the ti, he hadn’t noticed.
This confird the officer’s identity as genuine.
Relaxing slightly, Everly leaned toward Old John and Misha and updated them on the situation.
The police were trying to break in—that was good news. The masked figures were far too nurous, both inside and outside the building. If it were just the three of them, they might never escape on their own. But if the police could take down the attackers and rescue the hostages, Everly and her companions could remain hidden in the ventilation ducts, waiting for help, without having to risk themselves.
“I’ve got so chocolate in my pocket—we can eat that to keep our strength up… and if we really get thirsty, we can go to the n’s restroom. The stall door isn’t fully closed, so we can find a ti when no one’s there to get so water.”
After Everly shared this, Misha dug into her own pocket, pulled out a few soft chocolates, and generously divided them into three portions, handing one each to Old John and Everly.
Everly checked her own belongings, but unfortunately, she didn’t usually carry snacks—she only found a small makeup mirror in her bag.
Old John, true to his cautious nature, reached into the square pocket on the left side of his vest. He pulled out a piece of military compressed biscuit, slightly smaller than a pack of cigarettes, and showed it to the girls. “Eat sparingly. With water, this can last at least three days.”
That was perfect. They would wait for rescue here in the ventilation duct.
With a plan in place, Everly felt all the urge to fidget and move around vanish. The duct was spacious, sloped gently, and close to the next vent. The air was fresh—an ideal place to wait.
The three of them lay quietly for a while. Outside the vent, the occasional screams continued, casting a heavy mood over them. To distract themselves, Everly pulled out her phone and sent the photos she had taken to Rebecca.
Sothing about the magic circle made her uneasy, and she figured it was better to ask what it was for.
Rebecca responded quickly. No sooner had Everly sent the photos than her phone rang.
“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh! If you hadn’t sent that photo, I almost forgot—Miss, your community service was today! Wait, so you were caught up in the Xinkalan Theater kidnapping too? Where are you now? Are you okay?”
The mont the call connected, a rapid-fire barrage of questions ca from the other side—“crackle, crackle, crackle”—so fast that Everly’s head started to ache. She had to pull the phone slightly away from her ear and spoke softly:
“I’m fine. I’ve hidden myself, and everything’s okay for now. I sent you that photo because I wanted to ask… what exactly is the purpose of the magic circle those masked figures drew?”
“Yes, that’s exactly why I’m calling! Miss, that magic circle you photographed is extrely dangerous. No matter what, you must get as far away as possible, escape as far as you can!”
“What do you an?” Everly asked.
“That’s a sacrificial magic circle with a range far beyond the circle itself! I can’t tell exactly which deity it corresponds to, but there’s no doubt it’s a powerful, terrifying, and evil entity. The circle is an inverted pentagram—in the eyes of sorcerers, that represents the footprint of a demon. It’s a symbol used exclusively in black magic!”
“Look at the ring of symbols around the pentagram—the triangle-like shape ans ‘dedication’ in Runic script, the circle next to it represents ‘life,’ and the crescent shape ans ‘absorption’…” Rebecca rattled off her analysis, cross-referencing the patterns in the photo. She finally concluded:
“In short, these people are trying to use this magic circle to offer sacrifices to the evil entity they worship. That mound of corpses, all the killings—they’re the thods they use to please the dark god. And the remaining live people? They’re the offerings presented by the cultists!”
Everly felt her mind go completely blank. What on earth was going on? A simple, free musical had sohow turned into a death ga—and now, out of nowhere, it had escalated further, into a full-blown evil god sacrificial ritual. Seriously, this was way over the top.
“So… how large is the effective range of this sacrificial circle? Where should I hide?” she asked, taking a deep breath before speaking to Rebecca.
“Ah… well, um…” Rebecca stamred for a mont, clearly a bit embarrassed, and admitted to Everly that she had no idea how far the circle’s effect reached.
A sacrificial magic circle this evil required dozens of people to be killed in cruel ways, using their fresh blood filled with fear and despair to draw the pattern. Even historically, events like this were exceedingly rare, so Rebecca had no precedent or case to reference.
“In short, the safest thing is to stay as far away as possible. You have no idea what these cultists are praying to the dark god for. They’ve mobilized so many people and kidnapped an entire theater full of audience mbers, making a huge scene. Surely, they aren’t asking for small favors only?
In the world of occult studies, there’s a law you can’t argue with: if you ask a dark god for sothing, you often have to pay ten tis, a hundred tis over. If the masked figures’ requests are reasonable, that’s one thing—but if they’re greedy and ask for sothing beyond the ordinary, the area affected by the sacrificial circle will naturally expand…”
Everly’s mind clicked—she understood now.
She had long wondered why the masked figures chose to attack in broad daylight, in a crowded urban area, and make such a huge scene. Even if they needed a large number of live sacrifices, there was no reason to choose the Xinkalan Theater. To put it bluntly, Everly thought her school—Fino Academy—would have been more convenient: larger student and teacher population, located in the suburbs, a boarding school. If they blocked communications so no one could send ssages out, even if everyone in the school died, the truth might not co out until the weekend. By that ti, the masked figures would have long fled—wouldn’t that have been far safer than attacking Xinkalan?
Now, these criminals were trapped inside the theater. Although they held hostages and the police couldn’t act rashly in the short term, the siege itself was a form of attrition. Over ti, either the food inside would run out, or the police would find an opportunity to infiltrate and strike them down one by one. In other words, the scales would inevitably tip toward the authorities. Leaving themselves no escape route—were they just asking to die?
Now, Everly finally understood. The masked figures had done this on purpose—deliberately. They had deliberately chosen a small theater in the middle of a busy district, deliberately flaunted their defiance in front of the police, and deliberately posted on forums to draw attention. This way, it wouldn’t just be the people inside the theater—they, along with the officers, news crews, the hostages’ families, and even curious bystanders gathered outside—everyone would beco offerings to the dark god once the sacrificial circle was activated, serving as stepping stones for the masked figures to gain the god’s power.
By that point, when everyone was dead, the masked figures could leave or stay as they pleased, indifferent to the siege…
Having thought it all through, Everly felt her chest drop like a stone.
If her suspicions were correct, then simply trying to stay away from the magic circle was aningless. With the masked figures’ current level of defense, she, Old John, and Misha had no way to leave the theater. And as long as they remained within its range, they would inevitably be drawn into the sacrificial ritual…
Was there any other way out?
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