"..."
Silence spread.
Something abnormal seemed to flow through the air.
Something unseen, untouchable, and scentless had already permeated this place.
Just by stepping into it—just by being here—one could clearly sense this overwhelmingly present yet indescribable *thing*.
It was suffocating. No matter what one wanted to say, it felt as though an immense resistance blocked the words, as if the entire body had been wrapped in *something*, forced to wriggle forward inside the belly of *something else*, squeezed so tightly that every bone threatened to shatter.
"Haah…"
Unconsciously, even breathing grew labored.
Shijou Maki turned her head, scanning her surroundings.
Every student sat rigidly in their seats. Despite no teacher entering the classroom, none of them stepped out. This was because Kenbei, following Kumami's orders, had infiltrated the school's broadcast system and impersonated the principal to issue a command forcing all students to remain in class. However, though none left their rooms, the moment Maki and the others passed by the classrooms, every single student turned their heads in unison, staring at them with expressionless faces.
This building was gradually becoming *wrong*.
Maki could now keenly sense that intangible, formless **[Atmosphere]**.
Even though nothing had yet appeared to attack them, even though all the anomalies remained silent, Maki understood: the three of them, still walking outside, had already been marked.
No matter the outcome of their investigation, they would likely have to leave this building—perhaps even leave Yoruyama Academy's campus entirely. The student-shaped anomalies had likely already deemed them hostile. The moment they had an opening, they would attack. In other words, Maki, Chika, and Kumami could no longer move freely through the school like the other players.
Their only hope now was that this operation would yield results. Whatever was in that classroom, if it could break this deadlock, that would be enough.
*Tap—tap—*
Clear footsteps echoed through the silent hallway.
At the front, Kumami gripped her white cane, alert and ready. Behind her, Maki and Chika followed in silence.
The other players remained in their classrooms. With all the students sitting motionless, none dared act recklessly. And with the confirmed cognitive-blocking mechanism in place, only Maki's trio could continue moving.
*Tap—*
The final footstep landed.
Maki looked up at the classroom plaque above.
**Class 2-10.**
This was the place.
According to the intel gathered by takakai, this classroom was the focal point of **[Asamoto Eriko]**'s core grudge.
After Gotou Hitori brought back this anomaly's memento, the dormant grudge *should* have reactivated. Yet, during the first day's investigation, the location of **[Asamoto Eriko]**—the guitar's core grudge—remained undiscovered. It wasn't until Hiroshi and the others explored the main building at night that they finally pinpointed it.
But… the entire timeline of this dungeon being rewritten? It was hard to believe. Just what kind of existence was this "KP" Takakai mentioned? If these anomaly-filled dungeons could be altered so easily, then what did that mean for players like them? No—this wasn't the time for such thoughts. Takakai was still fighting. Everyone was still struggling. No matter what, they couldn't stop now. They had to keep moving forward.
Suppressing the unease and dread in her heart, Maki forced herself to focus on the half-open classroom door and the cold stares of the students inside. She stepped forward, stopping at the entrance.
Beside her, Chika cautiously approached, standing on the opposite side of the door. Together, they looked down at a piece of notebook paper in their hands.
As for Kumami—she had already stepped inside.
**[...]**
For a moment, Kumami felt as though all sound had vanished.
She couldn't hear anything—not her breathing, not her heartbeat. Everything had fallen into a deathly stillness.
*Thud—thud—*
Then, when sound returned, it was muffled, as if something were blocking her ears, like cotton had been stuffed inside.
A nauseating, unbearable sensation.
Nothing had even happened yet, and already this overwhelming discomfort threatened to tear apart her senses.
"Haah…"
Kumami exhaled.
But even her own breath sounded distant, so far away she could barely recognize it as her own.
This feeling… was truly unpleasant.
As she thought this, Kumami reached the lectern, standing directly before the rows of students.
Outside, Maki and Chika watched the notebook paper in their hands, occasionally glancing around to confirm their surroundings.
On that paper, crimson words continuously appeared and vanished.
This was one of the Twilight-grade obsession Kumami had brought into the dungeon—**[Cursed Diary Paper]**. Its usage method required a blood offering from a single person, after which the paper had to be taken away from them. Those nearby could then read the blood-offerer's thoughts through the text that manifested on the paper.
The toll on the blood-offerer was significant, so Kumami had immediately pricked her own finger and handed the paper to Maki and Chika, stationing them outside to relay information to Takakai in real time.
This arrangement undeniably placed Kumami in danger, but in her eyes, sending Maki or Chika in would have been a waste. This was a task only she could handle.
"Haah…"
Kumami exhaled heavily again.
The **[Atmosphere]** inside the classroom was even more unbearable than she'd anticipated.
If the **[Atmosphere]** in the hallway had felt like being trapped in a rural outhouse, then stepping into this classroom was like being shoved headfirst into a cesspit.
If those two girls had come in instead, they'd have lasted a minute at most before sensory overload triggered mental collapse, insanity, or instant death. Kumami, however, could endure for about three minutes by overwriting her memory and personality.
Which meant she had to act fast.
"Asamoto Eriko—is she here?"
Kumami spoke slowly, her voice steady as she addressed the students.
**[...]**
No response.
Of course, there was no response.
In this **[Atmosphere]**, she was the outlier, the minority, the one who *deserved* to be bullied and humiliated. They would never answer her.
A visual scan revealed no one resembling Asamoto Eriko. Perhaps she wasn't here. Perhaps finding her required a specific method. Perhaps, under this **[Atmosphere]**, she couldn't appear at all. Either way, unless this eerie **[Atmosphere]** was dealt with, Kumami wouldn't make any progress.
Well then, time to experiment.
True players never lacked a sense of adventure—or a death wish.
*Vrrrrrm—*
The stench of blood abruptly spread.
Kumami raised her hands high, gripping a massive, crimson chainsaw.
A Red Moon-grade obsession from the **[Tommy's Slaughterhouse]** dungeon—one of the few mass-producible mementos capable of directly severing physical anomalies. Takakai had obtained one from Touyama Akira, and Kumami's **[Slackers' Guild]** already possessed two. She'd brought one for this mission.
Normally, Kumami would hesitate to use something so blatantly aggressive. Merely wielding it could provoke anomalies into attacking. But now? Now was the perfect time. After all, these students were still obediently sitting in their seats, following the broadcast's orders.
*Come on. Let's see what's harder—your bodies or this chainsaw.*
The next instant, Kumami swung.
Two heads from the front row flew.
Blood sprayed.
The sounds of splintering bone and splashing fluids intertwined.
In less than two seconds, over a dozen students had been torn apart.
**[...]**
The classroom's **[Atmosphere]** grew heavier.
Kumami's hostile actions had escalated the **[Atmosphere]** to a level that sought to kill her on the spot—to shred her flesh, crush her bones, and obliterate her very sense of self.
"Keh… haah…"
Her self-awareness had already been overwritten once by a blessing. Otherwise, she'd have died instantly.
She'd used a healing memento to stabilize her injuries, but it could only slow the deterioration. Her mobility was worsening by the second.
Yet no attacks came.
The students simply sat there, unmoving.
Even as the chainsaw tore through them, even as limbs and viscera scattered across the floor, they remained still. No fear, no sorrow, no anger—just empty, emotionless obedience.
Meanwhile, Kumami, the one attacking, began coughing up blood without being struck. Her mind fractured. Her body sustained worsening injuries out of nowhere, her movements growing sluggish.
*So this is why that girl, Gotou, was forced to erase her memories.*
In Yoruyama Academy, **[Atmosphere]** was a force that could warp reality—something that could kill players without being seen or touched.
But she could feel it—the effect was weakening.
The students she'd butchered showed signs of regeneration, but it was slow. Far too slow to keep up with her slaughter.
And there weren't many left. The numerical superiority these things had held over her was fading.
Kumami realized: after cutting down over a dozen students, the **[Atmosphere]** that had nearly destroyed her was rapidly diminishing. It wasn't strong enough to kill her anymore.
*So it's about* **numbers** *after all.*
The **[Atmosphere]** in this distorted version of Yoruyama Academy operated on the principle of numerical dominance within a given space. When the anomalous students overwhelmingly outnumbered a player, the **[Atmosphere]** became oppressive, stripping away resistance. But if their numbers no longer held absolute superiority, the **[Atmosphere]** weakened. And if players ever outnumbered the students in an area, the **[Atmosphere]** might even reverse, harming the anomalies instead.
*Vrrrrrm—*
The chainsaw roared on.
By the time only five students remained, their previously blank faces twisted into expressions of sheer terror. The **[Atmosphere]** that had tormented Kumami had all but vanished.
*Vrrrm—*
Another swing.
Exhausted to her limit, Kumami staggered—but forced herself to stand straight.
In the blood-drenched classroom, only two students remained unharmed. One trembled like a bullied child, cowering pathetically. The other—
Kumami narrowed her eyes at the student who sat perfectly still, their features blurring, their form rapidly shifting.
---