I'm not Spider-Man, even though I'm parasitized by an alien!

Walking forward through the fallen leaves in the forest, he continued to boast to the drone, "No prey that I mark can escape."

“I’ve already checked the tickets, set the alarm, and the god of fate has already dipped his finger in black ash and marked the prey’s forehead. No one has smeared lamb’s blood on his door.”

(Painting with the blood of a lamb: From the Bible, the Jews would kill a sheep and smear its blood on the door, so that death would pass through the door of the house smeared with the lamb's blood.)

As he continued to boast, his popularity on the internet grew, and more and more people flocked to his live stream.

Although he kept boasting about his past glories, Craven didn't appear to be that relaxed.

He kept in touch with his team through his headset to check if any of the traps set up around the area had been triggered.

Meanwhile, at the movie theater.

Gina, the Black female manager, watched the live broadcast on the big screen, then glanced at the bottle of liquor in front of her.

More than half of the wine inside has already been used up.

She whistled a low, slow whistle, then raised the bottle and gulped down a mouthful, two mouthfuls, three mouthfuls.

With each bite, the throat moves up and down like a piston.

She was already slightly tipsy, and her tongue was no longer as nimble when she spoke.

She raised an eyebrow when she saw Fletcher walk in after finishing his call.

"My nose is filled with the smell of whiskey, and this guy keeps assaulting my eyes."

Gina looked at Craven and said to her, "You know what? This guy reminds me of my ex-husband."

Fletcher leaned back in his chair and said, "Isn't he already dead?"

"Yes, dead as dead as can be. He was a huge fan of the hunter Kraven, the kind with a club badge."

After taking a sip of whiskey, Gina said to Fletcher, "I chopped him up and threw him in the trash."

Fletcher remained silent, watching Craven's actions on the large screen and listening quietly to Gina's somewhat indistinct words.

A few minutes later.

"Is that all?" Fletcher asked.

Gina asked, puzzled, "What?"

"This is not a story, it's just the end of the story."

"I feel good."

“I think,” Fletcher said, “there are a lot of stories to tell here. You can’t just suddenly decide one day that you’re going to chop your husband up and throw him in the junkyard just because he’s a fan of the hunter Craven.”

"What's weird?"

Gina said dismissively, "But they didn't throw in any bones, just meat."

"Your husband."

"Yes, my husband."

Fletcher remained silent, and the two fell silent again.

Only Craven's voice could be heard coming from the big screen.

"I just felt that you wouldn't do this for no reason."

“Fine,” Fletcher said, staring at the screen, “Even if it’s just a whim, throw your husband in the junkyard.”

"Are you trying to say he's pathetic? Well, let me tell you, he deserves it."

“I didn’t think that way, but anyway, your story is just the beginning, it’s not the end.”

Gina works as a cinema manager, a typical white-collar worker.

No one would guess that she was a cold-blooded murderer in private.

“Our marriage was arranged. It was my mother’s and my grandmother’s idea for me to marry him.”

Gina said to her, "And in our place, marriage is about following your husband wherever he goes. Women have no choice. To men, we are just a crutch, a stool to step on, or a vacuum cleaner with breasts."

Fletcher downed his glass of red wine and nodded. "Good insight."

“My husband is a vulgar man. He knows nothing about refined things and can’t distinguish between what is important and what is urgent.”

“He was like a terrible cancer; everything good—orderly, clean, and perfect—would crumble, collapse, become dirty, and cease to exist the moment he touched it.”

Gina's eyes flashed with resentment. "That night, we were having dinner together. Over something trivial, he threw the pasta on the carpet. Not only that, he grabbed my wrist—the hand that was still holding the pasta."

She punched me!

Fletcher listened quietly to the other person's story and nodded slowly. "I understand. His idol is Craven, so it's not surprising. Perhaps it's his way of showing his masculinity."

Gina recounted her murder, and Fletcher showed no discomfort whatsoever.

After Gina finished recounting her story of murder, Fletcher put down his glass of red wine.

“I enjoy watching ‘reality show’ style massacres, and you personally transform into a butcher. In a sense, we are the same kind of people, both cruel.”

Fletcher's tone was devoid of any emotion. "So this is why you betrayed the human camp and joined the vampire camp?"

Gina shook her head. "No, but it's pretty much the same. Maybe I awakened something through this killing."

“I didn’t realize these things before. I have to thank him. He made me who I am today.”

Gina told Fletcher, "I realize that humanity is inherently a process of mutual slaughter, and life is like a hunt every moment. Even though I don't like competing with others, there are just too many cooks spoiling the broth."

Six months ago, Gina was turned into a vampire by Fletcher.

Gina is the general manager of Qiannian Cinema, and can provide support to Fletcher, the person behind the film company, not only in terms of film.

She even personally recruited extras for Fletcher, filmed scenes of these extras being chased by monsters into a "reality show" movie, and then showed it separately to Fletcher in theaters.

The hunter Kraven's "reality show" on the big screen in front of them seemed utterly ridiculous to the two of them.

Because the two of them had watched countless times more realistic, exciting, and bloody reality shows than this.

Moreover, it's the kind of reality show where it's filmed in one continuous shot, and you could get killed off if you're not careful.

Fletcher picked up his glass and took another sip. "So you'll agree to my plan to destroy New York?"

"Yes, because we're the same kind of people, you know? I was thrilled when you said I wanted to be one of you. After all, in this damn world, I have to actively hunt!"

Gina looked at Craven on the screen and said, "Our hunters should have arrived by now, right?"

Craven seemed to sense something, and facing the unknown, dark direction, he suddenly raised the sonic gun in his hand.

The attack, which came from the darkness, slammed into his collarbone like a hammer.

The pain was explosive.

The sudden attack flipped Craven face up.

He quickly rolled over, gripped the gun barrel, and fired a shot in the direction the attack was coming from.

"boom!"

The deafening sound echoed through the forest.

At this moment, Craven felt pain in almost every part of his body, including his ribs, stomach, and neck.

He felt as if his whole body was being torn apart, and the pain was unbearable.

The blood finally flowed back to his hands, and after wiping the blood off his shoulder, he quickly stood up.

But the shadowy figure then slammed into his body, throwing him violently to the ground.

It crashed to the ground with a "thud," scattering countless damp fallen leaves.

Craven struggled to his feet and quickly hid himself behind a large tree.

With a "boom," he endured the pain and quickly fired a shot.

"It seems you haven't figured it out yet—"

Craven roared, "The price of angering the hunters!"

Just as he was about to fire a second shot, a tall, dark figure rushed over, grabbed Craven by the hair, and slammed him against the side of a tree.

Craven's world began to buzz like a damned bell.

He could no longer feel the pain, only a dull, numb sensation.

His body felt like a sandbag, and someone was hitting him relentlessly with cement bricks.

A thought flashed through his mind: the pain was finally over, but he found out it was all an illusion.

Before Craven could figure out what was happening, the tall, dark figure bent down and grabbed his numb feet.

Craven was hanging upside down in mid-air when he finally saw what the other person looked like.

This is a werewolf with blood-red eyes and a height of over two meters.

The werewolf, exuding a savage aura and resembling a ferocious beast, seemed to possess the eyes of a vampire. The imposing presence emanating from him completely stunned him.

He could feel the tremor of being torn apart at any moment.

I recommend this post-apocalyptic novel by a friend; feel free to check it out if you're interested!

Reborn in the Apocalypse, I Can Devour Everything and Evolve Wildly!

(Apocalyptic rebirth + infinite evolution + violence)

Chapter 118 Black is Death

Although we don't know what happened between the two, something unexpected must have caused them to leave.

“Whoosh!

Gwen shot out spider silk from her wrist and chased after the direction Peter had disappeared in.

She couldn't understand what had happened tonight.

First, Helen becomes a person with magic and the ability to control plants, and then a hideous but cruel creature appears out of nowhere.

"I must have been out of my mind. Why did I agree to let Peter leave?"

At this moment, Gwen felt a sense of frustration.

The rain was pouring down harder and harder, and the night sky became hazy.