Creak—
A harsh, grating sound echoed as a slightly dilapidated door slowly swung open. Takakai peeked inside, carefully surveying the area.
The place appeared to be an auditorium, though far more decrepit than the one in the surface area of Shirasawa Elementary. Black stains covered the walls and floor, and the air was thick with the unsettling metallic scent of rust.
Of course, in the world of the Sacrifice Game, this kind of eerie setting was the norm. If they suddenly stumbled upon a bright, cheerful place, that would be the real cause for alarm, sending players into high alert.
"Clear for now. Come in."
After a thorough reconnaissance, Takakai stepped inside first, then motioned for Hayasaka to follow.
Hayasaka, barefoot and still wearing the damp T-shirt, instinctively moved to his side, sticking close like a loyal subordinate. Despite having been rescued by Takakai less than a day ago, she had already grown accustomed to following his lead, swiftly understanding and executing his orders.
Well, at least she's obedient.
Takakai rubbed the scratches on his arm, then pressed a finger to his neck.
He distinctly remembered the claw marks—they were from when he'd forcibly kissed Kaguya. Even as a specter, she still "believed she was alive" and reacted like a living person, breaking free from his grip and vanishing in outrage.
But earlier, Hayasaka had pointed out a hickey on his neck.
That's weird. I don't remember Kaguya kissing me. Hell, with her personality, she wouldn't do something like that, right?
Takakai couldn't make sense of it. He'd considered multiple possibilities but still couldn't figure out how the mark had appeared.
Still, the timing suggests it happened after I kissed Kaguya. So, the act of kissing triggered this change. Wait—in every dungeon so far, I've had a hidden role. The "corpse" in Shirakawa Apartments, the "General" in Nutty Putty Cave, the "teacher" in Fujioka High… Even if these identities are hidden, my actions still trigger corresponding effects.
Did kissing Kaguya activate some kind of special effect?
If we're talking about roles… Could it be because a "teacher" kissed a "student"? Maki and the others did forge a fake teaching position for me, and Kaguya's role is undeniably that of a student. If this interaction aligns with Shirasawa Elementary's history…
…No way.
A sudden realization struck Takakai, and he froze.
That's a little too illegal, isn't it?
Well, whatever. We'll figure it out as we go.
The goal for this loop was clear: gather as many clues as possible, ideally uncovering everything about the core grudge. That way, after the next reset, he could minimize uncertainties and resolve things as safely as possible.
Of course, that was the best-case scenario. Reality would only reveal itself in time.
For now, Takakai's plan was simple:
If crossing the boundary of a dungeon's surface layer led to the inner area, then descending beyond the inner layer's edge—where would that take them?
Takakai suspected that if this dungeon had a hidden, deeper layer, it would be there.
If the surface layer was a distorted patchwork of Shirasawa Elementary's fragments and the memories of deceased intruders…
If the inner layer was the frozen, chaotic moment of the school's destruction…
Then the third layer, if it existed, would likely hold the dungeon's hidden truths—the so-called "truth" itself.
Now, the task was to find and confirm whether this possibility was real.
"Crouch down. Stay quiet."
Takakai whispered the order, and Hayasaka immediately complied, dropping into a squat.
The oversized T-shirt covered everything when she stood, but now, with just a slight tilt of his head, Takakai could see the outline of her thighs. Though she tried to hold the fabric in place, the half-covered glimpse somehow felt more tantalizing than full exposure.
Too bad now's not the time to appreciate this.
Ignoring the girl beside him, Takakai focused entirely on the figures ahead.
Headless soldiers, clutching rifles, swayed as they walked.
Compared to the relatively "clean" headless entities in the school, these soldiers were far more horrifying. Their bodies were riddled with deep, cursed lacerations, dripping blood with every step, trembling incessantly from the pain.
Just looking at the wounds sent a chill down Takakai's spine. These specters seemed to suffer endlessly, their injuries never healing, their agony eternal.
Yet, they couldn't scream.
Without heads, they couldn't cry, couldn't shout—no voice, no expression to convey their torment.
Is this punishment? Retribution?
Force them to endure endless pain, yet deny them any means to express it—as if the perpetrator wanted them to experience what they once inflicted.
Recalling what he'd seen during the descent, Takakai pieced together the motives behind these horrors.
Thud… Thud…
The staggering footsteps faded into the distance.
After confirming the area was safe, Takakai led Hayasaka forward, crossing the room and entering a decrepit hallway. At the end was a door—beyond it, a vast military camp under the darkening sky.
Night had fallen.
The camp was eerily silent, save for flickering lights near the gates, where a few headless figures patrolled.
On one side stood a small building—likely a bathhouse and laundry room. Spotting a women's bathing area, Takakai sneaked in and, to his surprise, found drying women's clothes.
Finally, Hayasaka won't have to run around in just a wet T-shirt.
Wait, why would an all-male camp have a dedicated women's bathhouse?
Puzzled, Takakai noticed a corridor leading to another structure—a building labeled "Comfort Station."
The interior wasn't fully rendered in the dungeon, likely because no one was inside during the incident. But the name alone was enough to understand its purpose.
They even had this here? So the Imperial Army really didn't spare anyone, huh?
Takakai could only sigh.
"Madness begets destruction. A fitting end. I don't have any personal connection to that history, but… things like this should be wiped out."
Hayasaka, who had inexplicably refused to take off Takakai's T-shirt (only swapping for a pair of pants), spoke quietly, her voice firm.
"Yeah. And yet, we're standing in a world those very monsters created. Trash like this should've been incinerated, not left to fester. Anyway, no time to waste—the next part won't be easy."
Takakai turned his gaze toward the camp's exit.
In the surface layer, he'd reached the inner area by jumping out of a bedroom window—a memory fragment from a victim who'd lived in the early 2000s.
The closer to the outer edges, the more the dungeon seemed to reflect recent victims' memories.
Applying that logic here, the military camp—the last area consumed by the dungeon—was likely the outermost layer, or at least very close to it.
From here, they might find a path to the deeper world.
The two figures—one tall, one short—moved cautiously, navigating the camp's alleys and hiding spots.
Takakai avoided the tents. His instincts screamed that each one housed dozens of motionless, headless soldiers, waiting in the dark.
"Hah…"
Hayasaka's breathing grew uneven.
Unlike Takakai, she couldn't sense the specters, but the suffocating malice pressed down on her. Every breath tasted of blood, thick and cloying, threatening to make her vomit. Worse, an unseen gaze seemed to pore over her skin, searching, probing—
Takakai felt it too, far more intensely.
But where Hayasaka struggled, he remained unfazed.
This level of discomfort? Barely a warm-up.
"■■■…■…"
A faint, distorted voice echoed from a lit building ahead.
After slipping past two tents and a makeshift shed, Takakai and Hayasaka spotted it.
"■■…"
"■■■…"
Someone—or something—was talking inside.
Takakai scanned the perimeter, noting headless, blood-drenched soldiers standing guard. A few still had their heads, their eyes sharp as they scanned the area.
"Stay hidden. I'll try to eavesdrop. If things go south…"
Cracking his knuckles, Takakai summoned his pistol, ready for a "stealthy" approach.
"Takakai-san, if you're infiltrating… take this route."
Hayasaka pointed to a shadowy corner near the building, then to a pile of debris along the wall.
"Three guards have heads. Two alternate their sightlines every 12 seconds; the third has a fixed angle. Time it right, and you can use the debris for cover. Here's how…"
Her voice was calm, methodical.
As Kaguya's personal maid, Hayasaka had trained in infiltration—bypassing high-security zones, slipping past advanced surveillance. With her disguises and acting skills, she could've been a top-tier assassin.
None of that mattered now.
What mattered was that she'd finally found a way to contribute, to stop being dead weight.
And when Takakai listened—really listened—to her plan, Hayasaka felt a flicker of pride.
A small, quiet joy she didn't even realize she was feeling.