I wasn't drowning—no. I could breathe.
There was resistance, like moving through water, but lighter… I could move faster. Still, I was enveloped in an abyss, unable to see beyond my own shoulders.
This feeling… she had described it earlier, back in the desert, when I pushed her for answers.
She said KA was neither tangible nor intangible—something in between.
That was the most common name for this supernatural force. Humans had other names for it, but none truly captured what it was. She didn't know where it came from, not exactly—but she made one thing very clear.
I might have just encountered a yokai.
She paused before continuing, her tone shifting.
"A seraphim is first-rate," she said. "From what you've experienced… running is smarter than doing anything stupid."
First-rate?
What did that even mean?
I had always heard that yokai were phantoms—massive concentrations of KA. But Kamigari, my companion, corrected that.
Yokai aren't just large volumes of KA.
They are pure KA—released at the moment of death by sentient beings… usually humans. Or formed from the constant leakage of KA from corpses, like those buried in cemeteries.
And then came the part she called important.
The grading system.
Her knowledge was limited, but I understand this much from her: executioners are ranked based on two things—efficiency and raw KA reserves.
There are three ranks.
Third-rate executioners: beginners.
Second-rate: more experienced, the backbone of Hanzu tech , though only a few stand out.
And then—
First-rate.
The monsters of Hanzu Tech High.
Kamigari had added one more thing.
Becoming First Rate wasn't just about power.
"You don't just reach that level," she said. "You have to be exceptional… in more ways than one."
Her voice had been steady, but there was something behind it.
Respect.
Maybe even caution.
"Very few Executioners ever make it that far," she continued. "Most don't even come close."
I didn't respond.
I didn't need to.
Just surviving what we had already seen felt impossible enough.
She hesitated slightly before going on.
"There's also something else you need to understand," she said. "EXERT DESIGN."
The name meant nothing to me at the time.
Just another strange term in a world I didn't and didn't want to belong to.
She was about to explain—
But that was when everything started to fall apart.
The desert.
The ground beneath us began to collapse into the abyss, cutting her off before she could finish.
And just like that—
Whatever EXERT DESIGN was…
I was about to experience it firsthand.
At first, there was too much of it.
KA.
It surrounded me completely — thick, suffocating, like layers of liquid stacked on top of each other. Not quite water… but close.
Too thin.
Too everywhere.
I couldn't tell where it started or where it ended.
Then—
It spread.
All at once.
Violently.
Like something had released it.
My body dropped.
No—
I was falling.
Fast.
Like a free dive from the sky, windless but overwhelming, my stomach twisting as everything rushed past me.
But it wasn't just falling.
Something was happening.
I could feel it.
Space itself was shifting — breaking apart and rebuilding at the same time.
Repair.
Reconstruction.
Happening so fast my mind couldn't keep up.
And then—
I blinked.
I wasn't falling anymore.
I was standing.
In a field.
Flowers stretched endlessly in every direction, vibrant and unreal, like something out of a dream — like those vast fields you only ever see in pictures.
It reminded me of something peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Because it was wrong.
There were buildings.
Modern ones.
Glass. Steel. Clean lines.
They stood scattered across the field like they didn't belong there — like someone had forced two completely different worlds into one.
And then—
I saw her.
The seraphim.
She was changing again.
That dim, warm light consumed her form, swallowing the shape I had seen before.
Then—
Two wings burst from her back.
Not the overwhelming six from before.
Just two.
Cleaner.
Sharper.
More… angelic.
She no longer looked like the incomprehensible horror from the train.
Now—
She looked almost human.
Almost.
Her mouth opened.
And I knew.
Instinctively.
Something bad was about to happen.
No—
Something worse.
"All players who have not registered one kill…" she said, her voice calm, echoing unnaturally across the field.
"…will be exterminated."
A pause.
"You have thirty seconds."
My chest tightened.
And suddenly—
I understood.
Not fully.
But enough.
This wasn't a place.
It was a cage.
And we were inside it.
Like animals.
No—
Like something smaller.
A hamster in a wheel.
Running because something else decided it should.
The field looked endless.
But it wasn't.
All the "players"—
They were right here.
Closer than they should be.
Trapped in the same space.
With the same rule.
Kill.
Or be killed.
It had begun.
Chaos broke instantly.
Players turned on each other without hesitation.
No warning. No thinking.
Just instinct.
Bodies slammed into each other, fists flew, screams tore through the field as people clawed, stabbed, and tore at anything within reach.
It wasn't a fight.
It was a slaughter.
I didn't move.
For a split second—
I froze.
My eyes flicked upward.
The bronze figure stood beside the seraphim, unmoving, speaking to her like none of this mattered.
And somehow—
I knew.
This…
Wasn't the real danger.
"Ten seconds."
My heart slammed against my chest.
Kamigari moved first.
Fast.
Too fast.
She reached into my pocket, pulled out my pen, and drove it straight into a nearby player's neck.
A clean kill.
No hesitation.
The man she struck staggered, then turned toward her — eyes wide, blood spilling, rage replacing fear.
He charged.
"Five seconds."
My body moved before I could think.
I grabbed her shoulder and shoved her aside.
Then I stepped in.
Closed the distance.
I caught his arm mid-swing and yanked him forward.
Hard.
His balance broke instantly.
My other hand moved.
The switchblade slid free from my pocket.
No hesitation.
I drove it across his neck.
Deep.
Enough.
Blood sprayed.
His body jolted—
But I didn't stop.
I stepped in and drove my fist into the same wound.
The impact snapped him back.
His body went limp.
Dead before he hit the ground.
Silence didn't come.
It never did.
But something changed.
"Out of one hundred… forty-seven advance to Phase Two."
The seraphim's voice echoed across the field.
Just like that.
Less than two minutes.
More than half of us—
Gone.
My thoughts barely had time to settle before—
"Release Art."
A deep voice cut through everything.
The bronze figure.
For the first time—
It acted.
"SAND CORPSE."
Something moved above us.
At first, I didn't understand what I was seeing.
Brown shapes.
Dozens of them.
Falling from the sky.
No—
Not falling.
Dropping.
Fast.
The first one hit the ground near two players.
The impact—
Exploded them.
Bodies tore apart instantly, blood and flesh spraying outward in every direction.
Some of it hit me.
Warm.
Sticky.
Real.
My mind snapped into place.
"Buildings," I muttered. "We need cover."
They were the only structures here.
The only chance we had.
I grabbed Kamigari's hand and ran.
More of those things slammed into the ground around us, each impact shaking the field, each one killing someone.
We didn't stop.
We couldn't.
I spotted an opening—
A window.
We dove through it just as another mass crashed down behind us.
Too close.
Barely made it.
Inside—
I froze.
I knew this place.
A butcher shop.
Not just any.
My boss's rival.
I'd been here once before… asking for a job.
He turned me down.
Now—
Everything looked wrong.
Too clean.
Too perfect.
The tools were lined up neatly, blades polished to a shine like they'd just been prepared.
Waiting.
I stepped further in.
Toward the back.
And then I saw him.
The last man who had entered earlier.
He stood there calmly, wiping down a small blade — the kind used to peel fruit.
Too small.
Too clean.
Too wrong for everything that had just happened.
The air around him felt heavy.
Oppressive.
Like something dense was pressing outward from his body.
KA.
Strong enough that I could feel it.
He had already noticed me.
Of course he had.
"If I kill you," he said casually, not even looking up at first, "that makes five."
Then his eyes shifted to Kamigari.
A faint smile.
"Sorry… six."
Six.
That meant—
He'd already killed three before this phase.
That explained it.
Forty-seven survivors.
Not fifty.
He wasn't just surviving.
He was enjoying it.
And then I remembered what Kamigari had told me.
"If you see a dim glow," she had said, "that's control. A trained Executioner."
"A mist… that's a beginner."
"But if it burns like flames… that's First Rate."
I looked at him again.
A dim glow.
Controlled.
Experienced.
Then I looked at myself.
A faint, unstable mist.
So that's where I stood.
Doesn't matter.
I didn't have a choice.
I had to fight him.
"At least try to put up a fight," he said, finally facing me properly. "I'm not interested in screaming or begging."
I didn't answer.
I watched.
Carefully.
The way he held the blade.
The way his fingers adjusted.
His stance.
He knew how to fight.
But not like me.
This was a butcher shop.
My world.
I'd cut through bone.
Slaughtered livestock.
Sharpened blades until they could split flesh without resistance.
And right now—
Everything I needed was here.
I stepped forward and grabbed a cleaver.
Heavy.
Balanced.
Familiar.
I tightened my grip.
Then, without looking back—
I motioned for Kamigari to move.
Give me space.
She understood.
He smiled.
"You think you can even swing that?" he asked.
I met his gaze.
Calm.
Focused.
"Why don't we find out."
He moved first.
Fast.
Way faster than I expected.
The small blade flashed toward my throat.
I barely raised the cleaver in time—
CLANG.
Metal screamed as the knife scraped across it, the impact sending a shock through my arm.
He didn't stop.
He stepped in closer.
Too close.
The kind of distance where a small blade wins.
His elbow drove into my ribs.
Hard.
Air exploded out of my lungs.
Pain followed instantly.
I staggered back—
He chased.
A slash cut across my shoulder.
Shallow—
But sharp enough to burn.
He grinned.
"Too slow."
Yeah.
He was better.
Faster.
Cleaner.
But—
He wasn't used to this kind of fight.
I stepped back again.
Not retreating—
Positioning.
He lunged.
Straight in.
Predictable.
I grabbed a hanging hook from the side rail and yanked it down between us.
The blade hit metal—
Just enough to slow him.
That was all I needed.
I stepped in.
Closed the gap.
Now we were chest to chest.
His advantage—
Gone.
I slammed my forehead into his face.
CRACK.
He staggered.
Not enough.
His blade still came up—
It pierced into my side.
Deep.
Pain exploded through my body.
But I didn't back away.
I stepped forward.
Pushed into it.
Locked him in place.
His eyes widened.
That's when he realized—
Too late.
This wasn't a clean fight.
This was butchery.
My grip tightened on the cleaver—
And I swung—
—
A deafening impact shattered everything.
The ceiling above us exploded inward.
Wood. Metal. Dust.
All of it collapsed at once.
Something massive crashed through the butcher shop—
And the force—
Sent us flying.
I lost my grip.
Lost everything.
My body slammed hard into the far wall, something in my arm snapping on impact.
A sharp, sickening crack.
Pain shot through me instantly.
I hit the ground and rolled, vision spinning.
For a moment—
I couldn't breathe.
Couldn't move.
My arm—
It was wrong.
Shattered.
I forced my head up.
Through the dust—
I saw him.
Across the ruined shop.
He wasn't standing anymore.
His body lay twisted in the debris.
One leg—
Gone.
Torn clean off beneath the rubble.
His left arm bent at an impossible angle.
Shattered.
Blood pooled beneath him.
But he wasn't dead.
Just—
Butthe fight was over.
Not by victory.
Not by defeat.
But by something far worse.
I lay there, unable to move, my arm shattered, pain flooding every breath I tried to take.
Across the ruins, the man was still.
Unconscious.
Broken.
Alive.
And then—
I felt it.
Something else was moving in the debris.
Something that didn't belong.
Something that wasn't part of the fight.
My breathing slowed.
Not from relief—
But from realization.
This wasn't over.