As a survivor of the previous A380 Aviation Trip, Jasper Locke had also received the invitation to the Maze Trip.
I'd wanted to talk him out of getting involved in this mess again, but Old Jasper couldn't let go of Shiva's death. He was still kicking himself for missing such a "golden case study" in psychology, so this time he was dead set on participating.
I knew I couldn't change his mind. The questions haunting him were no fewer than ours.
Humans—we're all curiosity-driven creatures. That's been the root of tragedy since the first person looked up at the stars.
Fifteen days later, we boarded a helicopter dispatched by Headquarters and arrived on the Nazca Plateau in southern Peru.
The chopper carried eight passengers, all survivors from the last aviation trip. Other contestants would arrive separately.
As the aircraft flew over Nazca, I looked down through the window at a vast, nearly barren desert below, crisscrossed with strange lines. These lines formed all sorts of patterns—a monkey with a curled tail, a spider, a bird, a whale... as if a giant had used the earth as a canvas.
"These are one of the world's great unsolved mysteries—the Nazca Lines." Seeing my fascination, Jasper explained, "These enormous lines are hundreds of meters long. You can only see the full patterns from high altitude, so scientists have never figured out who left them."
I'd heard of this wonder before. "Could they have been made by humans?"
Old Jasper scoffed. "These lines date back to around 300 BC—over two thousand years ago. Never mind how backwards their productivity and observation methods were back then—even today, without aerial guidance, no one could draw patterns this precise. If these were made by ancient people, unless they had these—helicopters."
"Then who do you think created them?"
"Giants? Extraterrestrial civilizations?" Old Jasper smacked his lips. "Or maybe there really was an unknown race in history, with minds and abilities far surpassing modern humans—'super-humans,' if you will. They just went extinct through evolution."
A chill ran through me. I countered, "If such a superior race really existed, why were they eliminated?"
Old Jasper burst out laughing, giving me a "you're so naive" look. "Ryan, being superior doesn't mean you survive. The evolutionary tree actually prunes overgrown branches. Ultimately, this is a world of the mediocre. Just look at rats and cockroaches—think they're advanced? They're actually some of the most evolutionarily successful and well-adapted species on the planet."
I gazed silently out the window, unsure how to judge any of it.
The helicopter began its descent. Some of the enormous patterns were already blurring, visible only as irregular trenches crisscrossing the earth like a labyrinth. Headquarters running a "Maze Trip" here—there was clearly a deeper meaning.
After landing, Morphine was waiting to receive us, wearing sunglasses and standing beside a large Jeep. At her side stood the monk who specialized in the Iron Bell technique.
"Where's the other one?" I asked her.
"His injuries were too severe. He didn't make it." She sighed, then placed her hand on my chest again. "You'd better not die, though. After all, you're the man I'm betting on."
"Remove your claws." Selene walked over, her voice cold. "Touch him again and I'll break your fingers."
Morphine withdrew her hand with a sheepish shrug. "Keep an eye on your man. This trip is going to be unlike anything before."
We rode the Jeep for another dozen kilometers across the barren plateau until, rising abruptly from the wasteland, a magnificent hotel appeared—like a castle standing alone in the desert. From the outside alone, this was at least a five-star establishment.
"This is Headquarters' property," Morphine pointed. "The finest hotel in all of South America, and the starting point for this trip."
Obviously, running a hotel in the middle of nowhere wasn't exactly a profit center. This level of caprice spoke to Headquarters' practically unfathomable wealth.
We entered the hotel and gathered in the lobby, where over sixty people had already assembled. Besides the survivors of the last aviation trip, there were unfamiliar faces—veterans drawn from other Death Trips.
The atmosphere in the hall was suffocating, thick with the scent of violence. These high-ranked competitors watched each other warily, every one on guard. After all, in the next second, they'd all become mortal enemies.
Morphine stepped forward and clapped her hands. "Ladies and gentlemen, no need to be so tense. This trip is different from the others—you won't need to kill each other. In fact, you'll need to cooperate."
That provoked a buzz of surprise among the crowd.
As Morphine spoke, a mechanical grinding sound rose from beneath the hotel. The previously seamless marble walls activated some hidden mechanism, rotating and shifting like Lego bricks—behind them, it turned out, everything was hollow.
Moments later, the sound stopped. A row of electronic doors now lined the lobby, each with a circular button beside it bearing a number.
"Let me explain the rules," Morphine cleared her throat, drawing everyone's attention. "There are fifteen doors here, which are the maze entrances. Once inside, you'll need to choose your direction at each juncture. Only the correct choices will lead you out of the maze."
"Each door has a button. If you choose correctly, the button turns green. If you choose incorrectly, it turns red. Important—once you open a door, you can't go back. The door behind you locks permanently. In other words, throughout the entire Maze Trip, you can only move forward, never backward."
"Each room contains a clue item to help you find the correct path. But be warned—each room has a different time limit. If the countdown expires before you've made your next choice, the room will instantly fill with laser beams that will slice through anything inside."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Someone asked, "So if we don't make it out of the maze, we're eliminated?"
Morphine smiled. "We've run simulations. If every door choice is correct, the maze can be completed in approximately 90 minutes. With two wrong doors, the detour brings the total to around 120 minutes. But with too many errors, the time becomes incalculable. So please cooperate and try to choose correctly—the total time limit for the Maze Trip is 150 minutes. After that, the entire maze will fill with laser beams."
The crowd gasped.
In other words, anyone still inside after 150 minutes would be shredded by laser beams!
This so-called "elimination" wasn't about forfeiting or withdrawing—it was death.
It was cruel beyond words. A "Death Trip" in the truest sense.
Facing the crowd's shock, Morphine continued smiling. "Of course, the process is demanding, but the reward is generous. Anyone who exits the maze will be declared a winner, receiving seven million yuan in prize money plus an invitation to tour Headquarters, where you'll personally experience the ultimate mystery of this world. Perhaps the only chance in your lifetime."
Someone raised their hand. "This trip is too cruel. I don't want to participate anymore. Can I withdraw now?"
"Certainly, by all means." Morphine made a "please" gesture. "Anyone who wishes to withdraw, leave the hotel now. Our staff will escort you home. I'll give you five minutes to decide—stay or go."
A ripple of noise went through the lobby, then it quieted. Ultimately, about a dozen people chose to leave. Perhaps regretfully, they kept looking back as they departed.
"Have you decided?" I looked at Selene and Old Jasper. "Are we still going?"
Selene said nothing, but I understood her—once she'd made up her mind, she wouldn't change it.
Old Jasper's face had gone pale, but he forced himself to stay calm. "Ryan, we're allies, right? If we live, we live together. If we die, we die together..."