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District 1 was made up of Americans who started from the northern outskirts of the Dark Forest. They had joined forces with people from District 2, who were from Senegal, to travel through the forest as a massive party of roughly eighty people. Due to the Radanmos, they had no choice but to split up into eight teams of ten after arriving in the third zone. A few teams had already reached the fourth zone.
“Boss Brandon, the Radanmos have stopped appearing.”
“Is it time for the next Chaos to appear?”
Brandon was a man in his mid-thirties with short red hair and a red beard. He was a cowboy from Texas and was the leader of their party of eighty before they split up.
“Huuu, we can regroup with the others if the Radanmos are gone.”
“That’s not necessarily a good thing, Tommy,” Brandon replied.
The Radanmos that appeared became unbelievably stronger as more people gathered. Hunting them was out of the question, so the party ran away without hesitation. Brandon wondered if it was part of a system or a divine being that programmed it this way, as if not allowing people to stay in large groups.
It was only ten days ago when we traveled as an eighty-man party.
Leaders likely emerged from each team as they traversed through the Radanmo zone. Now that they had the sweet taste of authority, it may be difficult to meld into one large party again.
We promised to reunite once we get past the Radanmo zone, but I should throw away the idea that they’re the same people from ten days ago.
No one could be trusted in this world; one could tell just from the fact that killing fellow humans awarded the killer...
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