Chapter 8: The Price of Deletion
Elvas opened his eyes to the familiar white ceiling, but a warmth lingered in his chest that felt profoundly foreign. His lips twitched into a faint, surprised smile. For the first time in memory, he felt a flicker of genuine happiness.
The memory of the human world was sharp and bright in his mind, like a vivid dream that refused to fade. Yesterday, he had crossed the Oath. He had walked freely among humans, tasting a fleeting freedom that hadn't destroyed him, despite the elders' constant warnings.
"It wasn't so bad," he muttered, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Maybe this Demon System thing isn't entirely a curse after all."
He reached into his backpack and pulled out the black book, its dense cover cold against his skin. The weight of it was unnerving, as though it carried more than just paper. He rarely opened it—he could summon the System by voice—but he knew it housed the definitive record of his new life.
He flipped it open. The low rustle of pages broke the silence. Each leaf was etched in crimson text, recounting his tasks, his current points, and his dark choices.
"Every move I've made," he murmured, tracing a finger across the words. "It's all here, like a diary I never dared to write."
He turned another page. And then he froze. His breath snagged in his throat, and the world tilted.
A face stared back at him. Not words. Not instructions. A face.
It was drawn in stark, chilling black and white, her wide eyes frozen, her expression captured mid-breath.
Recognition slammed into him. She wasn't just a random image—she was Kalia, one of Liora's closest friends. Always at Liora's side. Always laughing in the crowded school halls.
"Why is she in here?" he whispered, a cold wave of unease washing over him. "And why is it... like this? Black and white?"
The image didn't move, didn't change, yet it gnawed at him, a terrible premonition.
He snapped the book shut with a loud clap, pressing it against his thigh as if hiding the face could somehow erase what he'd just seen. His heart hammered against his ribs, loud in the stillness.
"I don't understand," he said, shaking his head rapidly. "What is the System trying to tell me?"
Tossing the book onto his bed, he forced himself to move, to dress, to focus on school. He had to keep moving. Still, his gaze clung to the black cover as he left. For a moment, it seemed to pulse faintly, as though the book itself were a malignant, watchful entity.
Outside, Avalon stretched around him—gray, blocky buildings, cracked and weary streets, a city that perpetually felt like a cold, inescapable cage.
"Everywhere I go, someone's watching," he muttered bitterly. "It doesn't matter what world I'm in."
His sneakers scraped against the uneven pavement, his mind circling the terrifying image in the book again and again.
But when he reached the school gates, he noticed something else. A profound heaviness clung to the air. A silence that felt profoundly wrong. Students were gathered in tight clusters, whispering behind cupped hands, their faces pale and drawn with shock.
Elvas slowed his pace, the unease twisting his stomach into a knot.
Then he saw it—a poster taped to the stone wall, its corners curling slightly in the breeze.
He stopped dead.
It was her. The same face he had seen drawn in the book, only now vibrant with color. Kalia. Smiling in her school photo.
Beneath the image were words that hit him with the force of a blow:
In Memory of Kalia, Taken Too Soon.
Elvas's breath hitched. His throat went dry. He stumbled forward and grabbed the arm of a nearby boy from his history class. "What happened to Kalia?"
The boy blinked at him, his red-rimmed eyes wet with tears. "You didn't hear? She's dead."
The word rang hollow and surreal in Elvas's ears.
"They found her last night," the boy continued, his voice shaking. "Outside her dorm. Her heart... it was ripped out."
Elvas staggered back, his knees threatening to buckle. "Ripped out?" His whisper was barely audible. "How? Who would do that?"
The boy shook his head, his voice dropping to a frightened hush. "No one knows. But it wasn't natural. People are saying something evil attacked her."
Elvas let go, his heart pounding wildly, his mind spinning in a denial-fueled storm. He stared at the poster, at her smiling face burned into both paper and his memory.
"That's her," he muttered, the realization sinking its claws into him. "The girl from the book. Why was she in there? What does this mean?"
He forced himself through the gates, his legs shaky, his chest heavy with inexplicable guilt.
Another student brushed by, her braids swinging, her voice trembling. "It's awful, isn't it? Kalia was so nice. Always smiling. Who could do something so monstrous?"
Elvas nodded stiffly, words trapped in his throat. He wanted to demand answers, but the crowd's suffocating whispers pressed in around him.
Inside the hallway, he lowered his head, hoping the noise would fade if he moved fast enough.
"Was it the System?" he whispered, the words tasting like ash and metal. "No way. It can't be."
He pressed his back against a cold locker, his breath ragged, his hands trembling violently.
"The player thing," he said, piecing the horrifying thought together out loud. "I chose to delete a player. Was that... her?"
The idea froze the blood in his veins.
"No," he hissed, shaking his head fiercely. "That's insane. It's just a game. Just some twisted computer system. It's not like... it's not like a person actually died because of me."
But doubt consumed him, sharp and unrelenting.
The bell rang in the distance, a cruel reminder that life continued even when his world had catastrophically tilted.
"I need to get to class," he muttered, forcing his legs to move. "I can't think about this now."
But the thought clung to him like heavy chains, dragging him down with every step.
Ahead, silver hair glinted in the light. Liora. She stood with her closest friends, but her usual sharpness was gone, replaced by a devastating pallor and unconcealed grief. And in that circle of familiar faces—Kalia's absence gaped like a fresh, raw wound.
Elvas's lips moved before his conscious mind could stop him. "Liora."
She turned, her green eyes sharp and brittle with pain. "What do you want?"
"I... I heard about Kalia," he stammered, his sincerity raw. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know her well, but I saw her around."
Her jaw tightened. Tears glistened, but her voice was clipped and controlled. "Yes, well, she's gone now. Nobody knows what happened. It truly feels like this place is cursed."
Elvas's chest constricted with agonizing guilt. He nodded faintly. "She seemed... kind."
"She was," Liora whispered, her gaze slipping away. "And now she's just not here."
He wanted to confess everything—that Kalia's face had appeared in his book, that the System had forced his hand—but the truth jammed in his throat. If he said it aloud, it would become horrifyingly, undeniably real.
He turned, heart pounding, trying to push through the crowd, when the air shifted again. A bone-deep cold sank into him.
A familiar, low hum rattled through his body.
And then crimson words burned into the space directly before his eyes, sharp and merciless:
[Player terminated. Removed from existence. Task completed.]