The Papyrus
12/07/2026Behind the scenes
I saw the hunting book. Heads are crossed out in red felt-tip.
By Chamophélie, special correspondent · 1 min read
Five rivals per faction, faced one at a time, the boss last. Every win strikes out a name. It is simple, it is brutal, and it is called the hunting board.
The principle fits into a single image: a row of portraits, and a red line across the ones who have fallen.
You face the underlings first — the second-raters, the ones who don't even look at you on the start line. The gang boss stays locked away as long as the other four are standing. He waits. He has time.
The rule you learn the hard way
You don't strike out a name because you won the race: you strike it out because you finished ahead of that particular beast. Coming second behind a stranger, but ahead of your target, is enough. Coming first without ever meeting him is not.
An old punter summed it up for me: "It's not a race, it's an appointment."