The Shinonome Tunnel echoed with cries of despair. Panicked voices rose up in all directions, some trying to understand what was happening, others simply trying to survive. The suffocating heat of the gas gradually increased, making each breath heavier and clouding thoughts. It was impossible to tell whether the stinging in the throat was caused by fear or lack of oxygen.
Then, amid the turmoil, one man tried to regain control. His voice trembled, but it still carried the authority of someone who refused to give up.
"Listen to me!" he shouted, eyes wide, gasping behind his mask. "As long as we're still breathing, there's a chance! The goal is to get through, not to stand here! If we run fast enough, if we keep our masks tight, we can make it! The gas won't have time to kill us!" "
His words echoed off the metal walls, resonating like a last glimmer of hope. Around him, a few heads turned, searching his eyes for certainty, for a fragment of truth to cling to. Maybe he was right. Maybe this puzzle wasn't just a matter of choice, but of speed, of instinct.
But suddenly, a movement caught his attention. A younger man with a blank stare approached the edge of the tunnel, where the translucent barrier offered a glimpse of the neighboring tunnel, the one where Reo was. Through the veil of light, calmer silhouettes and measured movements could be seen. Reo stood upright, observing something on the horizon, without the panic that was tearing Shinonome apart.
The young man understood immediately. His face fell. A flash of lucidity crossed his eyes.
Without a word, he grabbed an oxygen mask that had fallen to the ground, pressed it to his face, and sprinted into the tunnel. His footsteps clattered on the floor, echoing like hammer blows. He ran without looking back, arms outstretched, cutting through the thickening smoke.
"Hey! Where are you going?!" someone shouted behind him.
But he didn't answer
The others watched him run away, stunned. Some shouted his name, others thought he had lost his mind. Why run alone toward an uncertain exit? Why waste his breath when he needed to conserve it?
Yet, deep down, something stirred within them. A silent intuition, a truth they still refused to accept.
The man who had just left... he understood.
And the others, frozen in their fear and theories, had only their words to reassure themselves.
But in the Shinonome tunnel, words could no longer save anyone.
As panic continued to spread through the Shinonome tunnel, voices mingled, searching for meaning, a way out, a fragment of hope to cling to. Then a man, panting, sweat beading on his forehead despite the damp cold of the tunnel, spoke in a trembling but audible voice:
"Until proven otherwise... There's no reason we can't use someone else's mask... if ours runs out, right?"
Silence fell. Some looked up, surprised by the logic of the reasoning. The idea, as twisted as it might seem, made sense—in this situation, anything was allowed, right?
But another voice, younger, replied immediately, almost desperately:
"Do you really think it's that simple? These masks must activate as soon as you put them on! They're linked to their wearer, it's obvious!"
The exchanges became more heated, with everyone trying to defend their version, but an old man, crouching a little further away, did not participate. He watched silently, his gaze lost in the opaque mist of gas. His fingers trembled slightly as he stared at the nearby tunnel—Reo's tunnel, the Toyosu tunnel.
Suddenly, his face froze. His breath caught, and his eyes widened in horror. He slowly stood up, his features tense, before letting out a hoarse voice:
"The bastard... He manipulated us..."
A few heads turned toward him, intrigued.
"What? What are you talking about?!"
But the old man, anger rising in his veins, raised his fist toward Reo's tunnel and shouted:
"That kid knew exactly what he was doing! He made our job more difficult!" "
They exchanged confused, hesitant glances. One of them dared to ask:
"But... what do you mean by that?"
The old man clenched his teeth, his breathing becoming ragged.
"Just look at the Toyosu tunnel... Look closely, and you'll understand."
No one dared to answer. Some slowly turned their heads toward the parallel tunnel, where Reo and his companions seemed to be progressing smoothly, where the fog appeared less dense, more stable.
So, without another word, the old man adjusted his oxygen mask, his hands trembling on the straps, and began to run. His footsteps echoed faintly on the metal floor, desperate. He was running, yes, but his body was no longer keeping up. His legs felt heavy, as if struggling against the weight of the years. He stumbled with almost every step, fighting against the toxic air and the panic that was suffocating him.
Behind him, the rest of the group watched, helpless.
A woman, still shaken by the panic around her, slowly looked up at the Toyosu tunnel. Through the opaque mist and the translucent reflections on the walls, she saw something, a subtle difference. Her eyes suddenly widened, and she put her hand to her mouth before crying out in a high-pitched voice, broken by urgency:
"It's a sprint!" "
Her words echoed throughout the tunnel, piercing the chaos. Some turned around, others stared at her in disbelief. Immediately, several voices rose:
"A sprint?!"
"What are you talking about?!"
But the woman didn't wait for the others to figure it out for themselves. She pointed her finger toward the parallel tunnel and spoke in one breath, her voice trembling but determined:
"Look! The Toyosu tunnel... There are fewer people! That's the difference! The goal is just to get out as fast as possible before the air runs out! But the more people there are, the more we slow down the others! It's a speed test... a hellish marathon!" "
Silence fell, immediately broken by a wave of panic.
In an instant, the instinct for survival took over.
Screams erupted, terrified glances were exchanged, and then the rush began. Everyone rushed toward the boxes of oxygen masks, pushing and shoving, almost tearing the straps from their hands. Blows rained down, and shoving broke out in the confusion. Everyone wanted to be the first to leave, the one who would have a chance to reach the exit before the air became unbreathable.
Men stumbled, others were trampled. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed like a drum beating the rhythm of a race for life. Faces contorted with fear, cries of rage and despair mingled with the muffled coughs of those left behind.
Then, little by little, the tunnel turned into a race for survival.
It was no longer a united group searching for a way out.
It was a desperate horde, each running for themselves, crushing everything in their path.
Koki rushed towards the boxes of masks, breathless, his eyes distorted by panic. With his knife in his hand, he violently pushed aside a man who was trying to block his way. The metal sank into flesh, a cry rang out, muffled by the crowd. There was no room for compassion. In this tunnel turned arena, survival took precedence over all morality.
All around him was hell. Bodies collided, screams mingled with the crash of oxygen tanks falling to the ground. Blood, torn masks, kicks—Shinonome was no longer a tunnel, but a corridor of death.
Every breath burned his lungs, every second stolen from suffocation felt like a victory.
Koki, his face splattered, pressed his mask to his face and glanced behind him.
Dozens of others were still trying to fight, to pick up the remains of masks left on the ground, to put on the straps, trembling. There were no longer friends or enemies.
Only beings who refused to die.
Meanwhile, in the Toyosu tunnel, Reo advanced calmly.
His steps were measured, his face impassive. At his side, Baka followed silently, still reeling from what he had just understood. The atmosphere there was different: fear was present, but channeled. Their steady breathing contrasted with the noise of Shinonome.
And further still, in the darkness of the Harumi tunnel, a figure remained alone.
Kōan.
Forgotten by all, she had not moved when the countdown ended.
The announcements, the screams, the frantic running no longer meant anything to her. She knew that Harumi was defective, doomed from the start. Yet she had stayed. As if her body refused to move forward, or perhaps because her mind had already stopped fighting.
The silence was almost soothing, until the gas began to seep in.
A greenish mist, thin and invisible at first, crept into her lungs. She coughed, then coughed again, the pain intensifying with each breath.
She fell to her knees.
Her hands trembled, searching for support on the cold floor. Her eyes filled with tears as a corrosive heat invaded her chest.
But death did not come.
The gas seemed to want to punish her, not kill her.
Her veins throbbed, her throat burned, her body convulsed in slow agony. She wanted to scream, but no sound came out.
The gas seemed to want to punish her, not kill her.
Her veins throbbed, her throat burned, her body convulsed in slow agony. She wanted to scream, but no sound came out.
Her breath became a rattle, her mind wavered between consciousness and surrender.
And in this silent torment, Kōan felt something inside her crack, an ancient pain, a memory she couldn't name, slowly coming back to the surface.
The Harumi Tunnel became a tomb of suffering, where life refused to die.
Kōan, lying on the floor of the Harumi Tunnel, struggled to breathe. Her body writhed in spasms, her fingers clawing at the cold concrete. Each breath seemed to burn her from within, her lungs filling with a corrosive gas that refused to grant her death.
Around her, the silence suddenly became heavy, then she heard a dull thud, a wet rubbing sound, a crackling of bones.
She weakly raised her eyes.
The corpses lying around her slowly began to move.
Their twisted limbs straightened with a macabre creak. Their empty eyes stared at Kōan, and their inert bodies moved toward her with jerky, heavy steps.
Her heart raced.
She wanted to crawl away, to back away, but her body refused to obey. The pain was too sharp, the panic too overwhelming.
The corpses clustered around her, their flesh swollen from the gas, their faces contorted in an expression of eternal suffering.
Their arms wrapped around her neck, her legs, her torso.
She tried to scream, but only a rattle escaped her lips.
Her fingernails dug into the ground, leaving thin trails of blood.
Then came the bite.
Rotten teeth, icy fingers pulled her to the ground, suffocating her, crushing her. She felt her neck break, her chest collapse—then, in a jolt of horror, she came back to life.
She looked up and saw those same corpses again, surrounding her, staring at her.
And once more, they tore her apart.
Death, then life.
Again and again.
A hellish cycle, relentless, with no escape.
Kōan screamed, or thought she screamed, until a light burst into the darkness.
A sound rang out in the heavy air, metallic, almost solemn.
A notification appeared before her reddened eyes:
[Your Spotlight: "Suicidal horsemen" has been activated]
"A Spotlight?" Kōan whispered, her voice barely audible.
She stared at the notification floating in front of her, not understanding. She was still gasping for breath, her body trembling from the aftermath of the vision she had just endured. The corpses, the pain, the suffocation... it was all gone.
The Harumi Tunnel, silent and empty, stretched as far as the eye could see.
She placed a hand on her chest: her heart was still beating.
The gas had stopped spreading, and the air, though heavy, seemed breathable. She didn't know if she had just been dreaming or if something, a buried power, an unknown spell, had actually manifested itself.
Meanwhile, in the Toyosu Tunnel, Reo, Baka, and the others finally reached the end of the passage.
Their legs were shaking with fatigue, their faces dripping with sweat, but they had survived.
No sooner had they crossed the metal line marking the safe zone than a crystalline chime rang out, followed by a new notification.
[✓Puzzle solved✓]
A solemn silence fell over the group.
They all looked up at the blue window that had materialized in front of them:
[Introductory Puzzle: -The Suffocating Tunnels-
✓Puzzle solved✓
Answer: Although this puzzle seems to be a matter of luck at first, there is a mathematical strategy to solve it. It was necessary to calculate the volume of each tunnel in order to determine which one best matched the oxygen consumption of the masks.
The dimensions could vary because they were measured approximately, only the length had a precise measurement. For this reason, communication and data exchange were essential.
The tunnel to choose was tunnel No. 2 — Toyosu, whose volume corresponded exactly to the oxygen capacity provided by the masks.
Time elapsed: 25 minutes]
[As a reward for solving the introductory puzzle, you have been sponsored 300 coins.]
Reo closed his eyes, his breathing calmed.
Around him, the survivors remained silent, some collapsing to the ground, others crying silently.
Doubt, fear, and accusations had dissipated.
All that remained was the cold, relentless truth.
Baka stared in horror at the Shinonome Tunnel.
On the other side of the translucent barrier, silhouettes were moving around, stumbling, struggling in suffocating chaos.
Screams echoed, muffled by the sound of alarms and the sinister hissing of toxic gas.
Some desperately tried to run toward the exit, their masks pressed against their trembling faces, while others collapsed along the way, their eyes rolled back.
Their frantic race was nothing but slow agony.
The air grew heavy and opaque.
And soon, there were only lifeless bodies lying on the metal floor.
Baka couldn't take his eyes off this scene of horror.
His breath caught when he spotted Koki, his leader, his mentor, his friend, among the dying crowd.
Koki was suffocating, clutching his now useless mask.
His red, swollen eyes met Baka's.
It was a burning gaze, filled with hatred so dark that it pierced the invisible glass separating them.
No words, no gestures.
Just that look, heavy with rage and despair, before Koki's body collapsed as well.
Baka fell to his knees. His hands were shaking.
He understood.
His leader had wanted to eliminate him.
And yet it was he, the most naive, the most lost, who had survived.
He raised his head toward Reo, who was watching the scene without apparent emotion.
"Reo... thank you... if you hadn't been there..." he whispered, his voice broken.
Reo slowly turned his head toward him. His face remained impassive, almost cold.
"I didn't do it for you," he replied calmly.
Baka blinked, surprised.
"Koki just said something to me... that pissed me off. That's all." "
His tone was dry, detached, as if he were talking about an insignificant detail.
Around them, the survivors of the Toyosu tunnel remained silent, some still crying, others frozen in a state of shock.
The air smelled of ash, fear, and guilt.
Reo ran a hand through his hair, observing the aftermath of the disaster, then said in a grave voice:
"Remember what I'm about to tell you, Baka."
He turned to face him, his eyes cold and calm.
"In this new world... those who rely on others to survive will be the first to die. "
His words echoed in the heavy silence, like a sentence.
Baka felt his stomach knot.
It wasn't a threat, or even a warning, it was a raw, relentless truth.
And as the warning sirens gradually faded away, he realized that another world had truly begun.
The survivors of the Toyosu tunnel, still gasping for breath, looked out at the Harumi tunnel through the thick glass.
Their gaze fell on a blurry shape lying on the ground, barely illuminated by the flickering emergency lights.
"Wait... look over there!" one of them shouted, pointing at the silhouette.
"That's... that's the girl who went to Harumi alone, isn't it?" added another, eyes wide.
They exchanged incredulous glances.
Why had she stayed there, even though Reo had revealed the solution?
"She... she never changed tunnels..." whispered someone, voice trembling.
A heavy silence followed, filled with incomprehension and dread.
But suddenly, before their eyes, the figure on the ground began to disintegrate.
A fine silver dust rose gently into the air, as if the body were dissolving into light.
The witnesses recoiled, stunned, believing it to be a hallucination.
Then, without warning, a weak, gasping voice rose behind them.
"...It's strange, isn't it..." "
They all turned around with a start.
There, just behind their group, Koan stood with one knee on the ground.
Her breathing was short and ragged, but her eyes shone with an almost unreal glow.
She slowly raised her head toward them, sketching a smile, a false, broken, almost insane smile.
"I... I can't believe it..." she whispered between gasps.
Her fingers trembled, clenched against the cold ground.
"I'm... still alive..." she added with a nervous laugh, oscillating between relief and dizziness.