The island is eerily silent, its twisted paths smothered in an oppressive haze. Moonlight casts an unnatural glow as trees sway as if watching. Then, a distant, warped carnival tune breaks the stillness. The signal.

Rule 16: A Clown’s Wrath—Max’s game has begun.

The air warps, the ground shifts like a living trap, and shadows stretch unnaturally. The rules are simple: run or be caught. Losing means a gruesome fate. There is no escape—only survival.