The silence fell like a sheet of lead over the hall.
Amane's breath came out in small clouds in the cold air—broken, uneven, almost painful. Her fingers clenched and unclenched on reflex, as if to check that she still had a body at all. Around her, the corpses of the three creatures were disintegrating, revealing jewels where their bodies had once been.
She lowered her gaze slowly to her hands. They were trembling, but not with fear. Her muscles quivered with adrenaline, with raw lucidity—the kind of feeling that only comes at the very edge of survival. She was still alive. She should have felt relief. She didn't.
Her eyes slid to the interface floating in front of her. The numbers, the icons, the skills… everything was there, neat, orderly. And yet a cold shiver crept down the back of her neck. Something was wrong. A weight, a dull pressure inside her skull, as if someone were pressing a finger against her thoughts themselves. That insidious sensation—being watched.
Then, a voice.
"I've been watching you ever since you first touched this keyboard…"
Amane jerked violently. Her foot struck the black puddle of a corpse, splashing drops onto her boot. She stumbled back a step, breath caught in her throat, eyes scanning the shadows around her. No one. Nothing. Only the hall, the bodies, and that silence that wasn't really silence at all.
Her gaze fell instinctively to the pendant at her neck: an ancient trinket she had pulled from the bottom of a chest without much thought. The dark-red stone at its center pulsed faintly, like a tiny heart.
"Is it… you who's speaking?" Her voice was weak, husky, as if strangled in her throat.
"Hmph. You catch on quickly. Encouraging. I am… what remains of a being you've probably never heard of. I am the Demon King Vel'Krath."
At that name the stone quivered, as though savoring the sound of its own legend. Amane's fingers tightened around the pendant. Her nails scraped against the cold metal. She swallowed hard.
"Actually… I've heard of you before… before I came here… but…" She inhaled slowly, trembling. Her eyes darted away, fleeing the gem like one flees an insistent stare. "Wait… you want to kill me, don't you…? And why… why are you only speaking to me now…?"
Her voice cracked at the end. The entire hall seemed to lean toward her, the shadows stretching, as though Vel'Krath himself were breathing just behind her ear.
"I am but a fraction. A trace. A fragment of soul trapped in this jewel. I cannot kill anyone right now."
The voice resonated in Amane's skull—deep, vibrant, almost painful.
"Then what were you trying to do to me?!" she suddenly snapped, her throat tight with a fury she hadn't expected. Her fists trembled. It felt like shouting at an invisible wall.
"My power is limited to manipulating those who wear me. I nudge them to accept me, to clasp me around their neck. After that, they become obsessed with their deepest wish… until it comes true. But you…"
The voice hesitated, then grew heavier.
"With the arrival of your new power, I can no longer grasp your soul. You wrote your own survival into this world that wanted you dead. Few can do that. The others simply obey. Endure. But you… you impose. I traded my soul for a resurrection."
Amane frowned, her eyes fixed on the pendant. She didn't know whether to believe it… or smash it against the wall. Her hand tightened on the jewel. She averted her gaze, took a deep breath, and without a word opened her storage interface. The treasures, stones, and artifacts scattered across the hall vanished one by one in pale blue flashes. Then she started walking toward the treasure room's exit, her heavy footsteps echoing on the marble.
"Why help me?" she asked in a cold voice, turning slightly. "You're supposed to be a demon…"
A brief, dry laugh.
"And you're supposed to be dead. Looks like neither of us respects the rules."
"Stop screwing with me." Her tone cracked like a whip.
But the voice returned, suddenly solemn:
"Goddess who wields the power to change all, I wish to serve you until my final breath. The demon army is under your command."
Amane froze. Her eyes widened.
"Wait, wait, wait… Serve me?!" she blurted out, almost jumping.
"You don't realize it yet, but your power already surpasses that of all beings roaming this world… even mine."
Her hands grew clammy. She felt her heart slam against her chest. Every muscle was tense, her thoughts colliding violently inside her skull.
Damn it… strongest in the world? I only wanted to kill myself… she thought, gritting her teeth, throat tight.
"And where does this power come from?" she finally asked, her voice aiming for firm but still trembling.
"It is a phenomenon born from the fusion of my demonic energy and the power of the sword you wielded. These two forces combined, and in doing so, granted you the divine energy that the gods themselves use."
The pounding in Amane's ears stilled. She inhaled slowly. Bit by bit, her heartbeat slowed. She raised her eyes to the dark ceiling above and asked:
"Then why… why did you declare war on humans and the other races?"
Silence. Then a sigh—old as the world itself.
"As I suspected. You are not from this world. Yet you already know there are others. This war… it wasn't truly me who began it. It was the gods. In the end, only one race will be allowed to remain. And if peace comes without a victor, the gods will activate Apocalypse. That will erase this world entirely."
Amane spun around sharply, her eyes searching the shadows for an anchor.
"What do you mean? They told us it was the gods who chose us—who summoned us here!" she said, voice trembling, genuine shock laced with growing dread.
"That is precisely what entertains them. The gods of this world are not like those of yours, or of the others."
The red gem of the pendant began to pulse faster, its light growing faint. The voice turned distant.
"The time has come. The necklace is about to break. My soul is unraveling. My resurrection draws near. I will send you one of my vessels to aid you on your path. But beware: if you draw too deeply on your power, the other gods will notice."
Amane opened her mouth, but no sound came. Under her fingers, the pendant still quivered. Then, with a dark crimson flash, it cracked. The stone shattered into glowing dust that scattered into the frozen air of the hall.
She was alone.
"At last… he's gone. I almost fainted back there. He was literally wrapped around my neck…" Amane whispered, leaning against a fractured pillar, her hand pressed to her chest. A heavy, trembling sigh escaped her. Her entire body still vibrated with the echo of the Demon King's voice.
A low rumble answered her. Her stomach. Empty.
Not a single grain of rice. No mochi. Not even a miserable onigiri.
"Great… now I'm starving…" she muttered, almost panicked. Her hand slid over her belly. The dungeon's oppressive silence only amplified the primal need.
Then suddenly, a spark lit her eyes.
"…Wait…" she said with a sly expression, as if an idea had just bloomed.
She raised her hand. The "system" screen materialized in the air like a pane of glass, runes clicking softly, each character suspended in light. Her hand trembled slightly as she wrote:
→ [Creation of Japanese Dishes]
She held her breath. This is stupid… it can't possibly work… this is a world of magic, not a restaurant… she thought, tense.
But then a gentle steam drifted beneath her nose. A steaming bento appeared, resting neatly on a folded cloth—perfect onigiri, a gleaming rolled omelet, and a small slice of grilled salmon.
Amane blinked.
"…I'm dreaming. It worked. This is insane… I thought it was limited to this world's abilities…" she murmured, taking the bento in her trembling hands.
She pulled out her phone—an absurd reflex. Screen: 3% battery.
→ [Auto-Charge]
Beep. Battery: 100%. The screen flared to life, bright. A smile tugged at her lips. Warmth swelled in her chest. She ate, savoring every bite as if it were the first real meal she'd had in centuries. In her eyes, a fragile but undeniable spark of life returned.
When she finished, she rose, wiped her fingers on her uniform, and resumed her march.
The corridor shifted as she walked: smooth stone gave way to spiraling carvings, ancient runes pulsing with a reddish glow; the air grew heavy, as though each step dragged her deeper into an unseen sea. Shadows slid along the walls, fleeting, while faint cracks of bone echoed now and then.
She faced monsters more terrifying with every turn:
— A colossal scorpion with onyx armor, pincers sharper than blades.
— A half-bat, half-lizard beast whose shriek made the floor's runes tremble.
— A wraith with rusted chains that slithered like serpents around the columns.
Each one ten times deadlier than the wolves she'd fought before. Each battle a raw blend of instinct and strategy.
→ [Physical Enhancement – Activated]
→ [Danger Detection – Activated]
→ [Analysis Reading – Activated]
Notifications scrolled before her eyes, translucent and cold. Her fingers traced swift gestures, writing on the fly, adjusting her skills in the heat of combat. Her breath grew short, but her gaze stayed sharp.
I'm learning to survive in a world that wants me dead. This isn't a game anymore.
The dungeon walls widened abruptly, opening into a vast circular chamber. The floor was black as obsidian, cracked with geometric lines that faintly glowed. The air was dense, saturated with the scent of iron and ashes.
At the center, three humanoid figures, clothed in rags, their backs turned. Motionless.
Amane slowed, heart pounding.
"What the hell is this…?" she whispered.
She took a step. The figures stiffened. Slowly, they turned their heads.
She recognized them.
Riji.
Shin.
Hina.
Her classmates. The ones she thought had been devoured.
Her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened, filling with tears.
She stepped closer, her voice shaking, broken:
"My friends… are you still alive…?"
The first screamed—a guttural, tearing sound—and lunged at her. His eyes were no longer human. His skin shriveled, his hands twisted into claws.
Amane screamed in reflex.
→ [Fireball]
A burst of flame erupted from her palms, engulfing all three. Fire devoured their rags, their corrupted flesh. The air reeked with acrid smoke. Their screams fell silent. They collapsed, bodies smoldering, lifeless.
Silence fell again.
She remained standing, frozen, her hand still trembling, her fingers curled like claws. Tears ran down her cheeks, streaked with soot. She closed her eyes, clenched her teeth.
"…Rest in peace…" she whispered, almost inaudibly.
Then she walked between them, her steps slow, her shoulders heavy. Her eyes were dry now, but something within her had cracked a little more.
Her footsteps echoed through the dungeon's corridors, a monotonous, almost haunting rhythm. Tap… tap… tap… Each echo returned as if to remind her that she was alone. The hours stretched endlessly.
Amane moved forward, her hand sometimes brushing against the cold walls. Her fingers came away coated with a fine black dust that clung to her skin. Her lips moved constantly, murmuring, lost in a blend of prayers, memories, and doubts.
"Why me… why this power… why now…"
"Am I still dreaming? Or am I already dead?"
"Yuki… you're waiting for me, right?"
But silence never answered. Sometimes the sound of a stone falling in the distance made her flinch, sometimes the growl of a creature she no longer had the strength to fight urged her to quicken her pace. But nothing ever truly came. Only the endless march.
The dungeon itself seemed to change around her: the walls, once smooth and etched with red runes, were now cracked, as if they had sagged with age. Black roots pierced through the stone, winding like veins up to the ceiling. The air, once heavy with the stench of metal and ashes, grew lighter little by little, giving way to a fresh, damp scent.
Her breath quickened when she saw it.
There, at the end of the corridor.
A pale halo, almost unreal, filtered through a massive stone door left slightly ajar. The light danced softly, caressing the floor.
Her legs, heavy as lead, suddenly began to run on their own. Her hands trembled as they reached for the opening. She felt the air… the true air. Softer. Purer. Laden with the smell of earth and grass.
She stopped just before it, her throat tight. Tears welled up uncontrollably. A nervous laugh escaped her lips, broken, interspersed with sobs.
"I… I made it out…"
She pressed both hands against the rough stone of the door, caressing it as if it weren't real, then crossed the threshold.
The world greeted her with a single breath.
The vast sky opened above her, dotted with white clouds drifting lazily. The wind lifted her hair, sweeping away the stench of ashes from the dungeon. Trees stretched as far as her eyes could see, their leaves rustling in a soothing melody. The blazing sun almost burned her eyes after so much darkness.
Her legs gave out. She collapsed to her knees in the grass, clutching a handful of green blades to her chest, as if that contact alone finally proved it was all real.
Tears flowed freely down her face. Tears of exhaustion, relief, but also of pain.
Her fingers instinctively brushed the broken necklace that no longer existed. Her voice, fragile yet firm, was carried away by the wind:
"Wait for me, Yuki…"
She remained like that for a long time, still in the grass, her breath slowly calming, her gaze fixed on the horizon. A new world awaited her… but she was waiting for only one thing: to keep that promise.