North America.
Inside a school in Round Clam Town.
“What’s up, horror movies?
I’m back with the boys again.
Today we’re continuing our classic American horror series…” Just a few days ago, Dan Lee was lounging on the second floor of his apartment, charging his phone while watching horror movie recap videos.
Then out of nowhere, a runaway truck sent him straight to the afterlife.
*It was the second floor, for God’s sake!* Getting hit by a truck was bad enough, but Dan also ended up with a deck of Ghost Cards floating inside his mind.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out this deck was the culprit behind his reincarnation.
Words would occasionally surface on the face of one of the cards: [No containment anomaly detected.] At first, he had no idea what “containment anomaly” meant—until he came into contact with a priest from the Vatican, and a prompt flashed across the card: [Anomaly detected: Traces of the Demon Nun.] The Demon Nun was an entity Dan had only heard of in the classic American horror franchise *The Conjuring*.
Only then did Dan realize that the people of North America were living in far greater peril than he had ever imagined.
Gunfights were nothing; encountering evil spirits, demonic entities, slashers, and mutated freaks was what was truly lethal.
The worst part was that the ghosts and evil spirits here weren’t friendly at all.
Instead of seeking revenge on their actual killers, they preferred slaughtering innocent bystanders.
If he had known he’d end up here, why on earth had he spent so much time watching horror recaps?
Wouldn’t watching wholesome romance or adult videos have been a much better choice?
As for trying to contain the Demon Nun?
Was this a joke?
That was a demon lord sealed away in the Hellmouth of an abbey.
Was that really something a regular human like him could contain?
Still, if it was just that, it would at least be tolerable—he could still survive.
What terrified him was the possibility of things involving *The Cloverfield Paradox*, *The Lighthouse*, *The Mist*, or *The Call of Cthulhu*…
Those weren’t simple horror stories.
That would be a realm far worse than hell itself.
Dan currently possessed fifty-four black Ghost Cards divided into four suits: Diamonds, Hearts, Spades, and Clubs.
It was straightforward—just like a standard deck of playing cards.
[Note: Having fifty-four Ghost Cards does not mean you are limited to containing only that number of horrors.] The highest-ranking Ghost Cards were the Kings, Queens, and Jacks, along with the Big Joker and Little Joker, which existed outside the suits and could be referred to as the Greater and Lesser Ghosts.
Aces were special cards.
The rest were rank-and-file number cards, from Two through Ten.
Kings and Queens possessed their own domains and pocket spaces.
Initially, the surface of every Ghost Card was entirely blank.
Any horror successfully contained would become his most loyal subordinate or fusion material.
That was the core rule of the Ghost Cards.
Right now, the only cards Dan could actually use were the Deuces.
But no Deuce, regardless of suit, could possibly contain the Demon Nun.
The entity’s true identity was a demon lord of Hell; trying to stuff a demon lord into a Two card would probably blow the card to pieces.
The moment he made contact with that priest, Dan had likely been marked by the Demon Nun.
In fact, the odds were extremely high.
A being of her caliber could wipe Dan out as easily as stepping on a bug.
Dan didn’t want to wait around for the day she came knocking on his door.
Containing other entities through his Ghost Cards was no longer optional—it was a necessity.
After all, he didn’t put his faith in God; he believed that only horror could fight horror.
The problem was that taking the very first step was ridiculously hard.
Dan didn’t stay lost in thought for long.
Today was the day he had agreed to go on a road trip to North Carolina with a few friends from outside of school to unwind.
Still, the name of that state sounded suspiciously familiar—almost like a notorious hotspot for terrible accidents…
He couldn’t place it at the moment.
*** Noon.
On a winding road in North Carolina, a Jeep sped along a highway bordered on both sides by remote woodland.
Six people were inside the vehicle—three guys and three girls, with no Black people among them.
Two of the couples were paired up: Scott and Carly were one couple, while Dan wasn’t very familiar with the other pair, Evan and his girlfriend.
The remaining girl was named Jessie.
She wore a cropped short-sleeved top and standard jeans.
She was a white girl with a sun-kissed, bronze tan.
Quite a few people in America loved getting a tan like that.
Dan had come on this trip at her invitation.
But even when going on vacation, he hadn’t forgotten to bring along the “great equalizer”—a handgun, which at least offered him a small modicum of security.
Blue skies and white clouds made the scenery pleasant, even though a traffic jam had forced them onto this remote backroad detour.
Everything seemed wonderful.
That was until their tire blew out, and another vehicle rear-ended them right after.
Scott got out of the car to argue with the other driver.
Meanwhile, Jessie stared at her phone in annoyance, complaining to Dan.
“There’s no signal at all in this dead-end place.
Dan, does your phone have a signal?” The phrase *no signal* acted like a trigger, instantly putting Dan on high alert.
No signal—a classic trope of American horror.
And when he met the guy who had crashed into them—a man named Chris—and learned why he was here, Dan’s suspicions were completely confirmed.
This was the plot of *Wrong Turn*, a classic horror slasher about a tribe of inbred, mutated cannibals born from chemical contamination who hunted passing tourists.
Right on cue, the Ghost Card he was casually fiddling with issued a prompt: [Anomaly detected: Traces of Mutant Cannibals.] Dan glanced around at the surrounding forest.
Mutant cannibals possessed strength, endurance, and damage resistance far beyond normal humans.
Bare-knuckle attacks or strikes with ordinary clubs from a regular person could barely cause them fatal damage.
On top of that, they were proficient with various weapons.
Most importantly, there wasn’t just one mutant cannibal.
All three brothers operated together in tight coordination.
They were brutal to deal with, but this might also be an opportunity.
After stepping out to assess the situation, Jessie turned back to Dan and asked, “Dan, do you want to come with us to find help, or stay here with Evan and wait for rescue?” Listening to Chris talk, Dan spoke up.
“We shouldn’t split up.
It’s not safe to stay here—I’ve heard cannibals roam these woods.” Dan hadn’t originally intended to butt in, but staying in a larger group increased everyone’s odds of survival.
When the time came, he wouldn’t need to outrun the mutants—he just needed to outrun his companions…
“Cannibals?
Bro, are you trying to crack us up?” Evan burst out laughing.
Unsurprisingly, no one else believed the cannibal story either.
A classic case of denial…
With no other choice, Dan had to tag along with Jessie, Chris, Scott, and Carly, planning to walk back down the road to see if they could find cell service to call for a tow truck.
Although Dan knew *Wrong Turn*, he had forgotten most of the specific plot details, remembering only the general premise.
Besides, it was an entire movie franchise.
You could never kill them all.
Seeing his expression, Chris chuckled.
“Relax, man.
This is America—how could there be cannibals out here?” Dan remained on guard simply because he didn’t want to get sniped through the skull by a stray arrow from the shadows like the cop at the end of the movie.
That would be an entirely too pathetic way to die.
The group searched along the road.
At a small fork, they spotted an old, dilapidated cabin.
White smoke billowed from the roof’s chimney.
Several rusted, long-abandoned cars were parked around the perimeter.
Chris suggested checking it out, and the group headed down the side path toward the broken-down wooden house.
Dan surveyed the area.
Those cars had likely been left behind by passing tourists who had met an untimely fate at the hands of the mutant cannibals, turning into dinner.
Sometimes he really wanted to curse out the local police—what on earth were they doing?
And why did phones never have a signal in these situations?
“Hey, maybe we should get out of here,” Jessie said, stopping near the entrance as she looked around nervously.
Chris, however, felt there was strength in numbers and saw nothing to fear.
Besides, who knew how far the next intersection was?
By the time they walked there, it might already be pitch black.
“Hello?
Anyone home?” Chris banged on the door while shouting.
Meanwhile, Carly picked up an iron rod and tapped it curiously against a wire fence, creating a loud clanging sound.
Dan watched their death-seeking behavior in silence.
Finding no answer, Chris pushed the door open and stepped right inside.
Jessie felt it was rude, but seeing Dan follow close behind, she swallowed her complaints and went in too.
The moment they stepped through the door…
A foul stench struck their nostrils.
The table wasn’t just covered in leftover human bones and freshly dried, blackened blood; trash and random items were piled haphazardly in every corner, and a stew was bubbling in a pot on the stove.
It didn’t look like a living room—it looked like a dump.
Ignoring the chatter of the others, Dan immediately began searching for a suitable weapon.
Unfortunately, there were no firearms inside the house.
Only a few melee weapons.
Dan picked up a rusty, tetanus-inducing machete.
Chris, Scott, and Carly didn’t touch anything in the house, feeling Dan was making a mountain out of a molehill.
Jessie saw the machete Dan was holding and tried to persuade him.
“Dan, that belongs to someone else.
We shouldn’t just take things.” “It’s for self-defense.” Looking into Dan’s serious eyes, Jessie shrugged helplessly.
“Alright then.” Jessie treated Dan differently from the others.
Although Dan was an international student, he wasn’t like the short, pale stereotypes she usually encountered; he was tall, handsome, naturally fair-skinned, and most importantly, wealthy.
Just as the group finished looking around the main room, a female scream echoed from deep inside the cabin.
Rushing into the back room, they saw a dismembered female corpse soaking inside a bathtub.