A slow dripping sound dragged Luca back to consciousness from the white, white, white. It wasn't what he called a good thing. His head throbbed, a dull ache spreading through his skull as he blinked his eyes open.

  Fuck. I wasn’t expecting this.

  The world came into focus in fragments –blurred and disorienting– accompanied by a faint smell of combustible and solid ground under his bottom.

  The message materialized out of thin air before him, a white stripe with black letters, before fading away. It was the same message he’d seen only an instant ago –but now, well, to say things were different was to call the moon white.

  Dull pain and no so pretty memories lurking, he thought: I feel pretty welcome here.

  But the headache started to abandon him little by little. Raising a hand to his face, he noticed the googles he’d worn before were missing. It was almost like this wasn't a simulation. Almost. He didn't have his medallion either.

  His fingers trembled slightly as he scanned his surroundings, finding soon his current position. He was crouched behind a white van, its bulk offering him cover. Beyond it, the street stretched out under the glow of ugly streetlights.

  Well, everything here was ugly.

  Three houses on both sides of the street, their wooden doors cracked and unglazed windows barred like at the end of the world at first sight. Narrow alleys snaked between the properties, and there were a couple of cars scattered in the street. Surrounding the area the skyline was made of worn out trees and distant mountains. There was no escape that way.

  No.

  Unless, of course, you could pass through the thick, impenetrable wall of fog that sealed off the ends of the street, and, well, everything. It was a contained zone, a small pocket.

  Although he expected something like this, living it himself was a whole different level.

  Luca’s eyes grew sharper. He was lucky, in a way. The view of the area was clear from there, and most importantly, he had some cover to work with. Others weren’t so fortunate. A man lay face down in the middle of the street, still, his body sprawled in front of the house at the other corner, before a red car. Not far from him, a woman stood frozen under a streetlight, her face pale and her eyes wide with terror. She sat there like a statue. The excitement she had showed before all this had evaporated.

  There was no hint of the remaining eight. Perhaps they had been luckier and spawned on the houses.

  Even as he tried to remain calm, his heartbeat pounded in his ears like a drum. What a headache. This dammed ‘Technical Test’ was too similar to some old experiences, years ago. Before -before this life. He forced himself to move slowly, quietly. No sudden movements. No standing up. No running. No screaming. He had one goal here, the same etched on the corner of his vision:

  Yeah. That.

  The implication was clear, even for someone slow to react. If Pendulum was asking them to survive, it meant something was coming for them.

  As if on cue, a mechanical snarl sliced through the (fake) calm of the night. A sharp, metallic sound. Luca’s eyes snapped to the corner of the street, where the tip of a chainsaw gleamed under the yellow streetlight. Thick, dark liquid dripped from its jagged teeth, pooling on the asphalt below.

  The chainsaw was gripped by a leather–gloved hand. Its belonged to a towering figure–a thing that might, might have once been human. Once. But the same could not be said now. No anymore.

  A dirty brown jacket hung from its broad shoulders, the fabric saturated with dark stains that looked wet under the light. Around its neck hung a makeshift necklace: lumpy, meaty orbs strung together. But –on closer inspection, they weren’t just lumps–they were human ears.

  Trophies.

  No one with a single finger of common sense would dare to fight that.

  So, hiding is the only way, then, thought Luca, as if he hadn’t been prepared for this the instant he saw where he was. This setting was familiar to him, after all. And that killer –Luca knew about him, even if it had been only on the pages of a web. He still wasn't sure if he should refer him like a 'him' or like a 'it'.

  Chainsaw Man stepped into the street, his heavy boots crunching against the gravel. He paused under the streetlight, his head tilting languidly, like a predator catching the scent of its next meal. His face–partially obscured by a rusted, reddish plastic mask–turned toward the darkness, scanning the street.

  No, Mr. Chainsaw knew exactly what it was doing.

  The hunt had begun.

  From his hiding spot, Luca’s eyes grew sharper as his mind raced. Chainsaw Man hadn’t seen him yet –and wouldn’t do if he wasn’t careless. But –he glanced at the others: the man still lying motionless in the street, the woman frozen under the streetlight.

  In truth, now it was when what Pendulum needed from the applicants shone. M–level. Even an additional 0.1 could meant the difference between those who could adapt, those who would understand what needed to be done, and those who weren’t even awake. The former would be taken; the latter, well… they were no enough.

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  Luca pressed his lips together, his mind racing. Chainsaw Man’s footsteps grew strident, each one heavy and deliberate, shaking the ground beneath him as if he was a giant from the old stories. The harsh sound of the chainsaw being dragged against the ground accompanied him. For now, it was still around twenty meters ahead, and most luckily, it wasn't looking at his direction but…

  Staying put wasn’t an option.

  Slowly, carefully, Luca backed up to the space between the van and the house’s wall. There was a door near it –but before he could even try to reach and open it, a faint sound reached his ears. Someone had locked it. He didn’t dwell on it, and hiding himself better, watched as the massive figure became more and more defined. The necklace of ears swayed with each step, and his eyes seemed to focus only on his prey.

  The frozen woman finally stirred, her body shuddering as if waking from a trance. But it was too late. Chainsaw Man was already closing in, his chainsaw roaring to life with a deafening crackle. The woman’s eyes widened, her mouth opening in a silent scream as the blade came down to her, and raised her hands to cover her face. She couldn’t even try to flee away.

  Luca looked away as the sound of tearing flesh and a spine-chilling scream echoed through the street. Pendulum’s report would surely mark her as 'lacking.' Their judgment held little sympathy: waking up too slowly was the same as not waking up at all. But then, ‘dying’ now was better than really losing their lives later. And even if it was a traumatic even, they wouldn’t remember about this later.

  It was a bit too sad to suffer such agony for free anyway.

  Well. This was something no one could help. A genetic factor so to speak. Better to use the brief distraction to find a better place to hide.

  The message flickered in Luca’s mind, pointing out the end of that poor woman. At least there was one small mercy: this was just a tutorial. No one would die. No losing limbs, or pieces of soul.

  A ripping sound echoed on the night.

  Luca’s mouth twitched. That –well. The killer did like his trophies, didn’t him?

  Make sure you don’t end like that.

  Keeping his body low, Luca crept toward his next goal, making his best attempt to melt in the shadows. Chainsaw Man’s back was still turned–focused on his crafting moment of the day. Good. Now, on his case, the black sedan parker the next house was what he wanted reach. It wasn’t ideal cover–smaller and less concealing than the van–but it would have to do

  He reached the end and crouched behind it, keeping his breath under control, and peered around the edge. Meters passing the van, Chainsaw Man was occupied, his heavy footsteps echoing as he closed in on the next victim–the man still lying unconscious in the street.

  The low roar of the chainsaw, idling but ready to act, echoed quietly. Chainsaw Man loomed over the unconscious man, slowly raising the chainsaw. For a moment, it seemed like the end was just like that. But then, in a burst of surprise action, the man twisted violently, rolling aside just as the chainsaw’s bit into the ground where he had been. With a scream, he scrambled to his feet and leapt into the street, passing by the red car.

  Although his prey was ‘running away’, the killer didn’t chase.

  Instead, the killer let out a laugh–a sound so twisted and animal it made Luca’s skin crawl. He would love to said he had never heard something like this but settled with not wanting to repeat the experience. Because –this wasn’t a laugh born from a human throat; it was the sound of something shattered, too sharp and drowned in blood and hunger to be.

  It reverberated through the air, slicing through the silence and slithering into the corners like it was its own home.

  Luca felt it in his bones, a cold, primal fear that made his throat thigh for a splint second.

  To provoke such reaction on him…

  Well, he thought, breathing in, so that’s your skill.

  After reaching the thick mist, the man turned back and tried to reach the nearest house. But Chainsaw Man wasn’t done. With a sickening whirr, he yanked the cord of his weapon, and the chainsaw roared to life, its jagged teeth gleaming like freshly spilled blood under the streetlight. Swinging the blade in a wide arc, this motion was all what he needed.

  There was no time to scream for the man. The chainsaw tore into his back with a wet, visceral crunch, slicing through flesh and bone as if they were napkins. Blood erupted in a cherry spray, painting the street and the blade. The man’s body convulsed, his limbs twitching uncontrollably as if his nerves were still trying to flee, before he crumpled to the ground like a discarded puppet.

  Chainsaw Man approached the mangled corpse and stood there, his shadow stretching long across the blood–soaked pavement. The chainsaw’s engine idled, its low growl filling the night as he yanked the blade free from the remains, and shook it, scattering blood and flesh as it were a tablecloth with leftovers from the previous meal. Then, he crouched, and took his price.

  Luca looked away for a moment, his stomach twisted with discomfort –some time had passed since he had faced such carnage. But he couldn’t afford to dwell on it.

  Two had already fallen, and there were still twenty–five minutes left.

  As the killer occupied himself with picking up his trophies, Luca was able to walk to the door of the house. Slipping inside, even if a big part of him wanted to, he didn’t lock it. Technically, it could buy him enough time to flee –but it would bring the killer’s attention to that place.

  The house was ill lit, with the only source of light being the streetlamps outside. The big wardrobe at end, just in plain sight, drew his attention the moment he slipped in. How convenient, thought Luca, taking a look at the rest of the place. Near him, To the right of the entrance stood a sink and a cabinet tucked into the corner, and beyond that a dining table for two.

  A door stood at the end, less than two meters from the wardrobe.

  Turning around, he took a few cautious steps toward the window and peered out into the street.

  The yellowish streetlights illuminated Chainsaw Man’s hulking form as he turned, his head tilting slowly, like a predator sniffing the air for its next round of food. His gaze lingered on three different points–three houses, that one, that next one, and–

  For a splint second, it felt like those dead-like eyes looked towards his direction.

  Then, with a low, guttural chuckle, Chainsaw Man made his decision and began to move. His heavy boots thundered against the pavement as he resumed his hunt. Each step was deliberate, coldly calculated, and on his gloved–hand, the dammed weapon purred.

  Luca’s eyes sharpened, feeling his body growing tense.

  Is he coming to…?