It had to be said that Nevermore Academy truly cultivated the elite of the elite.
If an ordinary person were under Victor's "merciful" rain of javelins, they would have likely been pinned like a hedgehog, crying for their parents as they withdrew from the competition.
But these contestants, though each was covered in dust, their clothes torn, and more or less sporting some scrapes and bruises—their movements bordering on pathetic—could still dodge and weave between the whistling wooden weapons, charging forward with a roar.
The agility of the werewolves allowed them to sense risks in advance and evade them, while the flexibility of the Banshees let them perform all sorts of incredible, contorted movements.
Others, like the descendants of the Gorgons, also had their own life-saving skills.
However, what surprised and even dazzled Victor the most was Wednesday, who had quietly joined the fray at some unknown point, her constitution no different from an ordinary human's.
She didn't have the speed of a Werewolf, the flexibility of a Banshee, or the special talents of other supernatural races.
What she relied on was merely exquisite combat techniques, a mind calm to the extreme, and a seemingly innate anticipation of dangerous trajectories.
Her performance was nothing short of art.
Amidst that hail of spears, she didn't look like she was performing life-or-death evasions; it was more like she was dancing an elegant yet lethal dark ballet.
Every sidestep, every spin, every perfectly timed duck or lean back precisely allowed those javelins—capable of piercing tree trunks—to graze past her by mere millimeters.
Blooming and closing like a flower of the dark night, there wasn't a trace of fear on her face, only a focused, icy calm, as if she weren't in danger but enjoying an afternoon stroll in her own gloomy backyard.
"Whoa..." Victor's (in his Venom-possessed state) large white eyes lit up, filled with the excitement and admiration of discovering a new toy.
His interest was piqued, and he decided to increase the difficulty for this elegant dancer.
The frequency of his throws suddenly accelerated, the angles becoming more devious. He even began to play with predictive blocking; several javelins flew past Wednesday's throat, waist, and ankles!
This thrilling scene made the other contestants, who caught occasional glimpses, feel their hearts race, secretly thankful that the monster's main attention wasn't on them.
But Wednesday did not disappoint Victor.
Her movements remained as fluid as flowing water, and within that increasingly dense attack, she even displayed a more extreme sense of rhythm forced out of her.
Not only did she dodge perfectly, but in the gaps between evasions, she even managed to pull out a javelin deeply embedded in the ground and, without looking, threw it back at Victor atop the stone gate with a backhand flick!
The javelin whistled through the air, accurately aiming at Victor's... uh, roughly where his cheek would be?
Victor seemed completely caught off guard by this move and instinctively tilted his head.
The javelin grazed past his viscous black "skin." Although it caused no damage, the obvious movement of his head being "knocked aside" carried an inexplicable sense of comedy.
A brief silence.
Victor slowly straightened his head, his huge white eyes blinking. Then, a low, pleasant laugh, sounding like countless grains of sand rubbing together, rolled out from deep in his throat.
"Beautiful..." He licked his grim, sharp teeth, his tone filled with unabashed praise and... some deeper interest.
"God, she really is charming, isn't she?" This seemed like a question for Venom, yet also like he was talking to himself.
Just then, Wednesday was the first to break through the "javelin rain" blockade, arriving before the black flag belonging to the black cat.
Without the slightest hesitation, she reached out, gripped the flagpole, and pulled it out with force!
The flag unfurled in the wind in her hand, the ferocious cat claw marks on it seemingly coming to life.
However, just as her other hand unconsciously braced against the ancient Creston stone gate due to the action of pulling the flag—
A sudden change occurred!
A familiar, suffocating buzzing sensation instantly seized her!
The scene before her eyes instantly distorted and collapsed!
[Psychic Vision]
As the blinding white light faded, Wednesday found herself standing in a void of pure white.
A figure stood quietly before her.
It was a young girl with features and a silhouette almost identical to hers, like a reflection in a mirror, yet entirely different.
The girl's hair was a silvery white, like moonlight. She wore an old-fashioned, spotless white dress, its hem like frozen clouds.
Most striking was the heavy book she held; its cover had no text, yet it exuded an ancient aura.
The girl looked up, her eyes a dark color similar to Wednesday's, yet so hollow they seemed like a universe capable of swallowing all light.
She looked at Wednesday, her lips unmoving, but a cold, ethereal voice that seemed to come from the end of time resonated directly deep within Wednesday's mind:
"You are... the Key."
[Vision Ends]
The massive influx of information made Wednesday's vision go dark. All her strength was instantly drained; the flag slipped from her hand, and she herself slumped onto the nearby grass, losing consciousness.
"Hey!"
Victor stopped all movement almost the instant Wednesday collapsed.
His massive body leapt down from the top of the stone gate, his heavy landing making little sound.
The black symbiotic matter receded rapidly like a ebbing tide, revealing Victor's own form.
He walked quickly to Wednesday's side, knelt on one knee, carefully checked her condition, and reached out to gently brush away the black hair scattered across her forehead.
"It seems our Miss Detective has dug up some more... explosive clues."
He looked up and gave his usual smiling expression to the surrounding contestants, who were frozen in place, at a loss due to the sudden turn of events.
"W-what's going on?" a member of the Crow Swarm team stammered. "Did... did you accidentally kill her?"
"Shh—" Victor put a finger to his lips, his smile unchanging and his tone relaxed. "Don't worry, Miss Wednesday is just... asleep. She's probably having a not-so-pleasant dream."
He stood up and looked around at the contestants who still didn't dare to move rashly, offering a very kind reminder:
"A friendly tip to everyone: before she wakes up... is your time to escape freely."
He paused and added, his eyes flashing with a mischievous light: "Of course, it's also the only time you might still have a tiny bit of hope of winning."
These words were like an amnesty!
The remaining contestants instantly snapped back to their senses. Not bothering to think deeply about what had happened to Wednesday, they scrambled forward, hurriedly pulling out their own teams' flags.
Then, at the speed of a hundred-meter sprint, they bolted back in the direction they came from, without looking back!
At this moment, they sincerely prayed: Wednesday Addams had better have an incredibly long dream! That way, they might... just might still have a head start!
Victor watched their fleeing backs and gave a low chuckle.
Then he looked down again at the unconscious Wednesday on the grass, his gaze becoming deep and complex.