The Grove immediately erupts into celebration as the Hunters make their triumphant return home with their prize in tow. It's been decades since there's been a high profile catch like this, and everyone has come to celebrate.
The lead Hunter raises his rocky fist into the air, and the crowd eats it up. Rarely do most of them ever see such a show, let alone one of this magnitude. One of the Rangers from Spec's hunt takes to tying his wrists together behind his back. Can't have him slipping away, that'd be bad sportsmanship.
"Seems like you really aren't 'all that' without your fancy tricks, are you?"
Spec says nothing in response to the Ranger's comment. He's too busy planning a way out to care.
The hunting party parades him through the center of The Grove for a few minutes, before eventually stopping at a massive stone amphitheater near Herne's lodge. The smell of smoke fills the air, and Spec can see a few bonfires burning on the edges of the stage, illuminating the center pedestal with a soft, warm glow. It seems they're preparing for a feast of some sort, no doubt due to his capture. Before Spec can get his bearings, a thunderous clapping noise erupts throughout the stands, as Herne the Huntmaster himself makes his grand entrance.
"My kind. My kin. It is with great honor and pride that I address you all today. Since the first time we picked up our spears, I never dreamt that a day would come bearing a spoil such as this. One of our most elusive targets has surrendered to our hunt, after making a deal for information. We have conditioned and pushed humanity to its limits, and from that pressure formed diamonds. One of which has just been harvested."
Herne gestures towards Spec, and the delegation of Hunters responds with wild cheering. As everyone begins to file in, the Hunters pat Spec on the back as they pass, offering words of congratulation and awe at his situation.
Spec is having none of it. Unfortunately for him, he's not going anywhere anytime soon. Besides, the final Hunter still hasn't broken his dagger— proven by the sharp object poking him in the back. He's still got some time to stall it out before all hell breaks loose.
"From the clutches of defeat, our most skilled trackers, rangers, and leaders managed to corner one of our most slippery targets. Such an event is but a rarity now, that I thought it appropriate to engage in the most high of celebrations!"
Spec is pushed forward onto the stage, and the crowd goes wild once again. Herne waves his hand, and a large banquet table appears in the center of the stage. The members of Spec's hunt all take their seats at the table, and Herne takes his place at the head. Spec is forced into the chair at the opposite end, and quickly tied down once again.
"Do not celebrate too hastily, my Hunters. This is but a signaling of what's to come. Today we rejoice in the partaking of our spoils, but tomorrow we continue our mission. With Spec's capture, we have learned that our conditioning of humanity has fallen short. We must usher in a new era; the time has come for us to evolve our hunt."
As Herne continues his speech to his Hunters, the members of the Wild Hunt begin to break into a joyous song of laughter and screaming. Their voices blend together in a surreal cacophony that sounds like crackling fire. The noise cascades over the small amphitheater with the sound of crashing waves, and for once in his life Spec ponders if he's in over his head. If there's one thing he remembers from reading books as a kid, the last thing you wanted to do was piss off the Fey. And here he was, in the center of the lion's den.
"Remember, my Hunters: Do not let the elation of our capture today sully your minds. Remember how we've suffered. Remember why we do what we do. Remember our challenges, our strife. None compare to that of the quarry of mankind, our perfect match. Tomorrow is a day for progress, but today… today is a day for a feast!"
The crowd of Hunters goes wild with applause and unnatural singing, the noise carrying over the level like the whispers of a light wind. As the cheering subsides, a small group of Hunters dressed in aprons begin to carry out plates of various fruits, nuts, and meat. As Spec flicks his eyes around in confusion, the feasting begins. Conversations break out all across the table about the hunt. From laughter to lighthearted insults, all manners of talk are thrown around at Spec's expense.
Spec stares at the plate of indeterminate food in front of him. He can't tell if he's staring at a piece of wild boar, steak, or human flesh. Oh well, it's not like his hands are free anyway. From over the noise, he can hear Herne speak up.
"Do not feel too disheartened, Spec. All fall to my Hunters in due time. You've been one of our greatest quarries to date… which is why we've decided to throw such a festival at your return. Please, eat up. All of this here is for you."
With Herne's attention captured, Spec opens his palm as he leans back in his chair. A small vial of thick, viscous white liquid appears in his hand, and he immediately hides it underneath his shirt.
"I'm good, thanks. I'm not hungry."
Herne nods, showing a little bit of disappointment.
"I understand. It is usually customary to give the spoil one last meal… they taste much better stuffed, after all."
Spec pales as he uncorks the hidden vial. He lets it drip over his back and onto the floor, but keeps eye contact with Herne as he does.
"What?"
Herne chuckles. "It's just tradition. A treatment only the finest of our quarries get to ever experience… instead of stuffing them in the great hall, we consume them after a celebratory feast. A representation of taking back the power we've given you over the years, and a delicacy for us to remember you by. Repurposing your corpse into taxidermy would be a waste. You deserve to be a part of us for eternity."
Spec drops the vial on the ground. The clink can't be heard over the residual noise, and he kicks it under the table. "I pray that thing'll do its job…" Spec hopes to himself, as Herne turns around to socialize with the lead Hunter. With nothing else left to do, Spec sits and waits for the festivities to finish.
As the feasting draws to a close, the Hunters once again file into their seats. There is an excited chatter in the air, as it's been quite some time since the last live cooking. Most individuals just end up dead, or are too smart to surrender.
Spec leans back in his chair as the lead Hunter cuts the ropes around his ankles, pulling him to his feet and walking him over to the stone fire pit in the center of the stage. Spec is pushed down onto his back by a few assisting Hunters, and the golem-like lead once again retrieves his unbroken hunting knife.
"Have you any final words?" The moss-covered rock creature inquires.
Spec just lies back and smirks, saying only one word:
"Checkmate."
The lead Hunter gives him a confused look, but shrugs it off. His people want a show, and he's not one to deprive them.
"All right then. Let us begin." The lead Hunter grabs the bottom of Spec's shirt, pulling it up to reveal the flesh underneath.
Or at least, that's what he was expecting.
Instead, he's greeted with the sight of a bleeding mess of scars, deep and hastily carved. Spec takes in a sharp breath, and blood seeps out from the wound. The cuts align themself into a shape familiar to the Hunter, but one he can't place…
…
Thinking nothing of it, he prepares to continue. Until he hears a scream from the Huntmaster himself.
"STOP! STOP! DO NOT KILL HIM!"
Spec's smirk grows and he recites the phrase from Leo's paper, loud enough for Herne to hear as he rushes over.
"Let the cosmos scream in suffering blight, praise the Spiral— may it snuff out the light."
Immediately following Spec's recital of the incantation, the ground underneath the altar begins to slightly crack. A massive beam of energy shoots into the sky like a beacon, and a low rumble can be heard on the outskirts of the level.
Spec laughs maniacally as the Hunters begin to disperse from their seats to retrieve their weapons to fight off the incoming beast, while Herne himself makes his way over to Spec with fear in his eyes.
"Are you mad?" The deer-headed man whispers. "Do you know what you've done?"
"I won, Herne. All this time, the Hunt had never actually been completed. I'm still alive, and your Hunter's knife is still unbroken. I knew I could stall out until the expiration of the timer, I just needed a little last safeguard in case shit hit the fan. Now here we are. You can't kill me, unless you want your little home and entire species sucked away into the voracious maw of an ancient horror. Put simply, we've got a Mexican standoff. One that I'm going to win."
Herne looks at him in utter disbelief. He appears to be thinking deeply about his next move, as what he does next could very well determine the fate of his home, let alone the whole of the Backrooms.
In a swift motion, Herne snaps the blade of the lead Hunter, and presses his palm against Spec's bleeding chest. With a flash of blinding light, he removes his hand to reveal Spec's wounds completely healed.
With the ritual incomplete, the beacon disappears, and the rumbling begins to quiet down. Herne throws the broken dagger to the ground, and gives his lead Hunter a slight nod, excusing him. With a scowl on his face, Herne turns his attention back to Spec.
"If you were but anyone else, I'd rip apart your essence and seal it within a stone, conscious, but without feeling. That thing cannot not be satiated. You risked the lives of innocents beyond The Grove. You're off the list, permanently. Our bargain is forfeit. You've been a disgrace to the hunt, and a disgrace to your race. Leave, and never return. You are henceforth banished from the Grove, Alexander Black."
Spec bristles at this. Really? He thought that the Hunt would appreciate a good old-fashioned bait and switch. Before he can protest, he feels himself being dragged out of the level by a forced noclip.