Brian Cooper's gaze swept unobtrusively over the back row. "Adam Grant is still sitting there."

They were veterans. Foster had also experienced more than a dozen instances, rated A. Although Brian Cooper was B-rank, he was at the top of B, just a few spots away from A.

"There are already two S-ranks, three A-ranks, and more than a dozen new E and F-ranks."

Brian Cooper didn't finish his sentence, but both of them understood perfectly well.

Even in the infinite loop, the instances were divided by difficulty. The fewer the people, the lower the difficulty. If the difficulty increased, the number of participants would also rise.

"...Compared to Vincent, I'm more concerned about Adam Grant."

Foster also looked up, his gaze passing over the crowd and landing on the person at the end.

The handsome man with loose black hair sat there, his expression indifferent. From a distance, he looked like a slowly unfolding ancient painting.

The only difference was the striking S-rank on his chest, with a small number three beneath it.

Among tens of thousands of horror trainees, there were only ten S-ranks. They sat on the highest thrones in the studio, overlooking all.

And Adam Grant was a high-ranking S-rank, ranked No.3 in the main system's initial evaluation.

There were quite a few big names among the survivors in the infinite loop, and the most terrifying one was so feared that even mentioning the name sent chills down spines.

Adam Grant's name was also among these big names. He was renowned for his unparalleled intelligence, almost demonic in his cunning, leaving nothing to chance and making others wary.

Brian Cooper was well aware of this. If the "different trainee" mentioned in the random mission was Adam Grant, they probably wouldn't stand a chance.

He thought about it and really couldn't come up with any way to resist.

"Since it's not a mandatory mission, it doesn't matter if we fail. Let's just be cautious. If we can't afford to provoke him, we can at least avoid him."

Better safe than sorry. The main thing was that the two of them, one A-rank and one B-rank, didn't dare to provoke an S-rank.

That was an S-rank, one of the top ten among tens of thousands of horror trainees!

Even if, in the worst-case scenario, they had to provoke an S-rank other than No.1, they'd rather mess with any of the other eight than this one with unfathomable methods.

It wasn't just them; the atmosphere among the other veterans was also a bit strange.

The root of all the problems still lay in the random mission issued by the main system.

Such a situation had never occurred in the history of the infinite loop. The instances they experienced were all team-based, with rewards for supporting newcomers. Even two teams meeting in the same instance was rare, and conflicts between them were even rarer. After all, the iron rule of the infinite loop was that humans were always subordinate to ghosts and monsters. If internal strife was added to that, there would hardly be any survivors left.

But now, this mission broke that boundary. Just like the horror trainees, from the moment the rules were announced, they knew that one day, internal strife might become inevitable.

Fortunately, they had to survive until then, so there was no need to overthink it for now.

After the lunch lady finished her ladle magic, Henry Clark carried his metal tray to a corner and quietly started eating alone.

The food here couldn't be called delicious, nor was it terrible. The hospital's perfunctory attitude toward these psychiatric patients was obvious, but having food was certainly better than none.

The effects of the drugs lingering in his body began to wear off. As his nerve endings recovered, the stiffness in his hands eased a bit, but his movements were still sluggish, with a clear sense of awkwardness.

Henry Clark had long since gotten used to it.

In the years after the car accident, he'd undergone countless surgeries, but his hands still couldn't return to normal. At his worst, even moving them was difficult. Now, thanks to his relentless training, he could at least take care of himself.

The cold, utterly lifeless light from the ceiling shone down, and the reflection on the metal tray showed the youth's pale pink eyes.

So far, although the plot had changed in many ways, it was still within Henry Clark's knowledge.

But soon, that would no longer be the case.

Because... there were less than two hours left until the original host's death in the plot!