THE DARKNET HUMAN HUNTING. +18

“The Darknet Human Hunting” is a disturbing urban legend that has been circulating on the internet since the late 2000s, involving a kind of hunting tournament in which people are the victims.

“The Darknet Human Hunting.”

I had been on an encrypted forum on the Tor network known simply as “The Boardroom” for three months. It wasn’t a drug market or a site for hiring hackers; it was an exclusive club that required personalized PGP invitations and cross-references. My obsession with the darker side of the web had led me to pay a ridiculous sum in Bitcoin just to watch. I thought it was all an elaborate scam to fleece curious people with money… until October rolled around and they activated the private link for the “Tournament” livestream.

The interface was minimalist. A high-definition video player with a surprisingly smooth bitrate for the Tor network, flanked by a real-time chat where betting odds were updated every second. In the upper-right corner, a counter displayed the participants’ chips: 24 prey / 6 hunters.

The captives weren't gladiators. Through the night-vision cameras installed in what appeared to be an abandoned industrial complex, I saw the people: a backpacker with torn clothes, two terrified homeless people, a man in a suit who couldn’t stop hyperventilating, and several others trembling in the dim light. None of them were wearing shoes. They had all been branded with a number on their backs using a hot iron.

There was a chat room where usernames flashed by at breakneck speed, with people betting thousands of dollars, not on who would win, but on how they would die.

User_889: 1.5 BTC that number 12 will last less than 10 minutes.

Vektor_9: Got it. Tonight's hunters are wearing heavy gear.

The tournament began with a deafening whistle that echoed through the complex's loudspeakers.

The prey ran blindly through the concrete corridors. Seconds later, the heavy doors on the upper level opened, and the hunters came down. They weren’t carrying sophisticated firearms; the organizers knew that a single well-aimed shot would end the spectacle too quickly. They were armed with machetes, butcher’s axes, loading hooks, and steel bear traps.

The first death occurred in the twelfth minute. The man in the suit stumbled in a dark hallway and triggered a pressure trap. An iron beast trap clamped down on his leg at the shin with a sharp snap that rang out with macabre clarity on the high-fidelity audio. His screams of agony echoed throughout the facility.

The worst part wasn't the trap, but the arrival of the Hunter 3.

The man, wearing a rusty welder's mask, took his time. He walked slowly as the live chat exploded with emojis and bets. He leaned over the victim and, instead of finishing him off, began using a butcher’s hook to drag him slowly across the concrete floor, leaving a thick, dark trail as the victim clung desperately to the walls until his strength gave out.

The broadcast lasted nearly four hours. I saw people forced to make horrific decisions, such as locking others inside to buy time while they listened to the sound of machetes striking on the other side of the door. The sound of metal striking bone, the hunters’ heavy breathing through their masks, and the victims’ pleas were so real that the air in my room felt freezing.

By the end of the night, only one contestant remained: number 07, a young woman who had hidden inside an abandoned ventilation duct. She was completely covered in the blood of the other contestants, whom she had used as human shields. When the timer reached zero, the lights in the complex flashed on in a blinding white glow.

A man in an impeccable suit walked into the shot, clapped slowly in front of the camera, and handed the survivor a canvas bag full of money, along with the keys to a pickup truck parked outside. She was crying inconsolably, unable to stand, but alive.

The screen went black for a second, and a final message from the administrator appeared:

“Congratulations to the winners of the bets. The Spring Season harvest cycle has begun. If you're traveling alone through Europe or South America over the next few months... keep your hotel doors locked.”

I shut down the computer abruptly and was left in the dark. I never opened the Tor browser again. But every time I travel and hear a metallic clang in a dark hallway, I wonder if I’ve ended up on the list of candidates for the next transmission.