Thud—thud—
The heavy footsteps grew ever closer.
Hayasaka instinctively retreated in fear, while Takakai stood by the door, his brow furrowed as he strategized their next move.
Should they shut the door and hide, pretending no one was inside?
Or charge out to confront the threat head-on, or perhaps find another hiding spot?
Takakai didn't hesitate long.
His pistol materialized in his grip, ready to seal the enemy away.
Joke's on you—I've already beaten you once. No reason to run now.
Besides, his spectral policeman was deep in the research base's corridors, scouting ahead. He couldn't afford distractions. Even if provoking the Butcher risked Chiyo's retaliation, Takakai had already written off this timeline. A reset was inevitable.
Thud—
The footsteps neared.
Takakai could now feel the oppressive aura radiating from the approaching entity.
But something was different.
Compared to their encounter in the surface layer, this presence felt more twisted, more wrong. Was it because they were in the deepest layer now? Had the specter itself mutated?
Thud—
As the footsteps grew clearer, Takakai's attention split.
Through the shared senses of his spectral policeman, he watched as the entity advanced down a black ooze-covered corridor in the underground research base.
The facility was shockingly crude—nowhere near as advanced as Fujioka High's high-tech labs. It looked like a repurposed bomb shelter, with endless concrete passages and heavy metal doors welded shut, as if to imprison something unspeakable.
Takakai had ordered the specter to test the doors, but none budged. Some emitted children's sobs or chanting voices. One even slammed violently as something inside tried to break free.
The worst was a door that called Takakai's name, its voice worming into his mind, whispering:
"You know me… Let me out…"
For a split second, he almost obeyed—before shaking off the compulsion.
This place is a graveyard of failed experiments.
Worse than the sealed classrooms. Whatever's behind these doors… any one of them could be a dungeon boss on its own.
Thud—
The hallway outside the storage room trembled, reality itself warping as the Butcher approached.
Underground, the spectral policeman sprinted past the sealed doors, searching for any accessible room.
Meanwhile, Takakai stepped into the hallway—
—and froze.
It wasn't just the Butcher.
Perched on the hulking specter's shoulders was a small girl, grinning down at him.
Chiyo.
Oh, you've got to be kidding me.
"Move!"
In one fluid motion, Takakai scooped up Hayasaka, tucking her against his side as she instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist. Then he bolted.
He could handle the Butcher alone.
But Chiyo? A Crimson Moon-grade core grudge? With rules he still didn't fully understand?
Yeah, no thanks.
Thud—thud—
The blackened hallway rippled, dissolving into blood-red hues.
Corpses sprouted from the floor, their mangled limbs twitching.
Handprints bloomed across the walls like crimson flowers.
Ceiling tiles wept blood.
And through it all, a child's voice giggled:
[Don't cry~ It's better this way!]
[No one leaves here alive. We're all just… food for the monsters.]
[So let me help you! A quick, painless death—isn't that kinder than what's coming?]
[Smile, okay? Dying sad is so… boring.]
A phantom image flickered—Chiyo, swinging a cleaver too large for her small frame, decapitating a sobbing figure.
The Butcher's blade.
The same one used to skin dogs, now repurposed for children.
Takakai ran, but the hallway stretched, the exit receding.
Bloody hands clawed at his ankles.
Screaming faces surged from the walls.
And still, the footsteps closed in.
Bang!
Takakai fired backward—not at the Butcher, but at Chiyo.
The girl caught the bullet midair, her grin never fading.
But the sealing effect still triggered.
For a few precious seconds, the blood-red corruption stalled.
"Hah—!"
Takakai lunged, bursting through the crimson zone back into the blackened hallway.
The digestion resumed immediately.
His skin bubbled, patches dissolving into black sludge.
Hayasaka gasped, her fingers blackening at the tips.
They needed shelter. Now.
But every door looked identical. Every turn led nowhere.
An infinite loop of classrooms and corridors.
Then—
"There."
Hayasaka's hand rose, pointing at a branching path.
Takakai pivoted, spotting a stairwell.
"Up."
Her voice was hollow, distant.
He took the steps three at a time, bursting onto the rooftop—
—where a blood moon hung, casting no light.
Shadowy figures in school uniforms stood at the edge, their backs turned.
As Takakai emerged, they leaped, vanishing into the abyss.
"That way."
Hayasaka's finger aimed at a utility shed.
Inside, the corrosion slowed.
Takakai's wounds oozed black and red, but the worst had passed.
Hayasaka, however—
—collapsed, her eyes empty, her mind shattered.
The Butcher's presence alone had erased her.
Takakai knelt, pressing his pistol to her temple.
"Talk."
His voice was ice.
"I know you're there. You've been riding her since the storage room."
Silence.
Then—
A small, pale hand reached from beneath Hayasaka's back—impossible, since she lay flat on the floor.
It gripped Takakai's wrist.
And a woman's voice, velvet and sly, echoed in his skull:
[My apologies for the intrusion, Mr. Takakai~]
[But this girl was the only vessel I could use. You're quite the reckless one, diving into Chiyo's subconscious like this.]
[Still… since we're both trapped here, why not cooperate?]
[I'm with the Crimson Society. And I'd very much like to live.]
Takakai's expression didn't change.
As he forced Emergent Blood down Hayasaka's throat, he muttered:
"We'll see."
The voice giggled, delighted.
[Then it's a deal~]
Meanwhile, deep underground, the spectral policeman finally found an unsealed door—
—and stepped into what appeared to be a break room.