A fresh scream split the chaos. Two of the beasts latched onto a single recruit like feral dogs tearing at a scrap. They yanked and twisted until the poor soul was ripped in half.
Kenji looked away, swallowing back his non-existent breakfast. Octavia's tightened; she bit down so hard she could feel the metal of her teeth. Aiden started forward, instincts flaring, but Octavia grabbed his arm and held him back.
"Don't. You'll get surrounded," she snapped.
There were hundreds of them. As much as she wanted to try and save everyone, their only clear objective sat under the stage: Shō, who lounged in the center like he was watching a play, hands shoved into his pockets, utterly uninterested.
"We can't just let them all die!" Aiden protested. Octavia pressed her lips together, face folding into determination.
"You want to save them?" she said. "Take out the leader. That should stop them."
"Should?" Aiden shot back. "You're basing the plan on a damn hypothetical."
"Got a better one, Goldilocks?" Octavia snapped.
Kenji grit his teeth. "If stopping Shō would stop the damned monsters then what the hell are we waiting for!"
He rushed in, Octavia tried to grab him, fingers brushing against his hoodie — but she was too late.
"Wait! We need a plan!" Octavia huffed, but shook her head.
No choice, then.
With her metal bar raised, she rushed into the fray. Aiden followed suit, his guard up.
Kenji rushed through the vast hall, his red eyes locked on Shō's form. A scream echoed at his side, monstrous and inhuman. A tar-covered beast rushed forward, large and imposing. It bore its rows and rows of jagged teeth, aiming to rip and tear.
He glanced at the beast then kicked at the floor. With inhuman strength, he pushed himself off the floor — tiles cracking under the force. Raising the metal bar, he landed right on the beast and jabbed the jagged metal bar deep through its head. It screamed, and he felt the tar cover his sneakers and pants.
'Fuck you, Shō. After I did all your damned laundry!' Kenji thought with grit teeth. 'Do your own fucking laundry next time!'
He twisted the metal bar, and pressed his entire weight into it. Jabbing it deeper and deeper. The beast screeched, and as Kenji tore through flesh, bone, and brain-matter — or whatever equivalent existed for this beast —he felt it go limp below.
The tar melted into the floor with a hiss, and Kenji stumbled off the beast's twitching corpse. The black sludge clung to his jacket, sticky and reeking. He grimaced, wiping his arm against his hoodie — not that it helped.
Before he could take another step, a sharp pain tugged at his ear.
"Ow! The hell was that for!?" Kenji snapped, jerking his head toward Octavia.
She glared at him, eyes burning. "What the hell do you think you're doing!?"
"Getting to Shō!" he shot back.
"Try waiting first, dumbass!" she hissed, dragging him closer by the ear. "We need a plan before you get all of us killed."
Aiden jogged up beside them, a little out of breath, his clothes spattered with tar. He glanced at the carnage, then at Shō, still unmoving on the stage.
"Alright, how about this," Aiden said, tone sharp now. "Kenji goes vanguard — we play support. He charges in, we make sure nothing touches him till he reaches his brother."
Octavia opened her mouth to argue—then stopped. Her eyes flicked to the melted remains of the creature Kenji had just butchered. For someone who looked like he'd just crawled out of bed, he clearly knew how to fight.
"That…" she exhaled, lowering her weapon slightly, "…could actually work."
She didn't sound thrilled — but she didn't argue either.
Kenji didn't complain. The three lifted their makeshift weapons — metal bars raised, each holding theirs in a way that matched who they were.
Kenji gripped his like a bat, shoulders loose and ready to swing.
Octavia held hers like a rapier, precise and practiced.
Aiden twirled his once, getting into a trained stance himself. A knightly pose, one he copied from the media he's consumed.
"You can handle yourself, right?" Aiden asked, flashing Octavia a look.
"Oh, please." She rolled her eyes. "I could ask you the same thing."
Kenji sighed, the sound half amusement, half exhaustion. "You two done flirting? Let's move."
Once they took their positions, he inhaled — deep and steady. Then—
"Try to keep up."
He kicked off.
The tiles cracked beneath his foot, shards of ceramic scattering as his body shot forward. The air whipped in his wake, leaving a gust that nearly threw Aiden's hair back.
Both Octavia and Aiden stared, slack-jawed.
"...Is he human?" Aiden muttered.
"Freaks. Everyone here's one." Octavia exhaled, her lips quivering into a smirk. "Including me."
She vanished next, a streak of movement slicing through the chaos as she darted after him — light and sharp as a blade.
Aiden blinked, then laughed under his breath. "Yeah? Don't forget me!"
He kicked off the floor and charged after them, steel bar raised high, as the three tore down the blood-soaked hall toward the stage.
As Kenji charged forward, a blur streaked beside him — a tar-black creature, lithe and twisted, its claws slicing through the air.
Before it could strike...
CRACK!
A metal bar drove clean through the side of its head — precise, surgical. Tar splattered in thin lines across the floor.
Octavia stood at Kenji's flank, her stance sharp and composed. She twisted her wrist, pulling her makeshift rapier free before driving her boot into the creature's chest. It fell with a wet thud, its form collapsing into a puddle of black.
Another one lunged from ahead. Kenji's eyes narrowed; he shifted his footing, kicking at an angle and sliding left just as a tendril snapped forward, spearing through the row of steel chairs with a metallic shriek.
Before the debris even settled, Aiden appeared above — sprinting along the creature's outstretched tendril with blinding speed.
He gripped his metal bar with both hands, muscles coiling. "Heads up!"
With a single, fluid motion, he swung — the bar connecting with a wet crunch. The creature's head flew free, its body collapsing even as Aiden kicked off the tendril, flipping backward to land beside Kenji and Octavia.
He exhaled, smirking despite the gore. "Guess that's one way to cut in line."
The other two resisted the urge to groan — then pressed on.
They carved their way through the tide of tar-born creatures, black ichor splattering across their clothes and slicking the white-tiled floor beneath. Each swing, each strike, was met with another shriek, another body dissolving into bubbling blackness.
As they neared the stage, the horde began to shift — clustering together, limbs and torsos merging into a writhing wall of tar that shielded the man at its center.
Octavia and Aiden exchanged a glance — no words, just understanding. They broke off ahead of Kenji, charging straight into the living barricade. Their bars struck like lightning, carving gaps through the grotesque mass.
"Go!" Octavia shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos.
The way clear, Kenji sprinted forward.
He leapt — landing on the stage with a thunderous thud. The old wood cracked beneath his weight, splinters scattering.
And there, in the middle of it all, Shō stood — calm, composed, hands still tucked into his pockets as if the carnage beneath him were nothing more than a performance.
Kenji raised his metal bar, his breath heavy, eyes burning red.
"So, you finally made it."
Shō's voice was smooth — a hum that cut through the chaos like silk against a blade. His hands slipped lazily from his pockets as Kenji stepped forward, metal bar trembling in his grip.
"You're not Shō," Kenji hissed. "Shō would never do this. No way in hell."
"Oh?" Shō tilted his head, his tone dipping into mockery. "I wouldn't do this?"
He began to pace, unhurried, each step deliberate — measured against the screams echoing through the hall.
"Look around you, Kenji. Look at what I did."
Kenji didn't need to. The slaughter surrounded him — the stench of blood and bile thick in the air, the wet sound of something dragging across the tile. His knuckles went white, but still he shook his head.
"Cut the crap!" Kenji shouted. "This isn't real! Either you're not Shō — or this is some kind of illusion!"
He advanced, his voice breaking between rage and disbelief. The bar lowered slightly at his side.
"Shō wouldn't do this. Not after everything he's done for me!"
That made Shō stop.
"Look at me!" Kenji's voice cracked, grief bleeding into anger. "Would Shō really do something like this? The same brother who killed Dad after what he did to Kyoru — after he tore through the Yakuza when he found out what really happened?!"
Shō's hand clenched into a fist, his expression faltering for the first time.
Kyoru. A name that hung between them like a curse. Their lost brother — sold to pay their father's debt, a sin that neither of them ever escaped.
Kenji raised his weapon again, jaw set. "So who the hell are you really?"
For a moment, silence.
Then Shō lifted his head, eyes glowing faintly red — colder than anything human.
His lips curved into a thin smile.
"You're delusional, Kenji," Shō said, spreading his hands as if presenting the ruined hall. "Where do you think I go for work? What do you think I do? This is me, Kenji. I made this. I chose it."
He laughed — a low, ugly sound that slid across the room and left a taste of bile. He circled Kenji like a predator, eyes cold and unforgiving.
"I've killed so many innocent people," he continued, voice flat, almost bored. "And you still have the faith of a child for a monster like me?"
A sneer cut his face.
"I always thought you were useless. You shouldn't even be here." He leaned down, so close Kenji could feel his breath. "You should've stayed home. Hide. Been safe. Instead you come here, chasing death."
Kenji's jaw clenched until his teeth ached.
"Joining the Choir, running off from the life I tried to give you— risking everything just to die on some stage alone and worthless, is that what you want!?." Shō's eyes narrowed until they were red slits. "Does your life mean nothing? Have you thought about how your choices hurt the people who care about you!?"
Then he moved.
Too fast. Too precise. In a blink he was there, hand on Kenji's metal bar. The weapon flew from Kenji's grip as Shō twisted and disarmed him with a cruel, effortless motion. The bar skidded across the floor.
Shō's fist slammed into Kenji's ribs. The world went white with pain. Bones popped; breath left him in a ragged gasp. Shō seized his shoulders and shoved, sending Kenji flying. He slammed into the stained tiles, sliding across the hall toward the discarded bar.
Shō stepped over it, standing over Kenji like an accusation. His voice dropped, a venomous whisper that filled the space between them.
"You want to join the Choir? Then fight," he hissed.
"Fight and kill me!"
Kenji grit his teeth, fighting through the pain. He grabbed the metal bar, wiping the blood pooling down his nose. He took off his jacket, wrapping it around the metal bar akin to the chains he always used on his bat.
"I'll snap you out of this daze, stupid older brother." Kenji declared.
He rushed in, himself a blur. To any normal soul, he would've looked like a black and white bullet. But even still, he was slow — too damned slow.
Kenji swung the bar down — miss.
He swiped to the side — miss.
He thrusted it forward — caught, twisted, then a fist found its way to his cheeks.
Crack!
Kenji stumbled back. He gripped the jacket wrapped to his bar. He swung it around in a circular motion, pacing around before he unleashed a flurry of strikes.
Up. Down. Left. Right. Diagonally. Across.
The audience members who watched through the carnage would've only seen a metal blur and sparks raging as the bar shattered tiles and cracked the wooden stage.
Yet Shō was a similar blur. He ducked, weaved, and stepped around the attacks as if they were mere snails for him to step over.
He wasn't even sweating.
"Too slow." He murmured under his breath.
Kenji grit his teeth and rushed in, rushing a leg to kick the man in the head.
Crack!
A foot met liver.
Kenji's liver as Shō's black leather shoes dug deep into his side.
He felt his vision blur, he stumbled back clutching his side as pain ran through his body. His veins flared, and his body willed for him to collapse. Yet he grit his teeth, ignoring it and swinging the bar once more.
Kenji spat out blood.
"That..." He breathed out. "That all you got?"
"You really in a position to say that?" Shō questioned.
"Don't know..." Kenji breathed. "But I'm still standing, and I'm not stopping until I drag you back to your senses, older brother."
Shō sighed, then shook his head. "Fine. Your words."
Like lightning, Kenji felt a sharp pain in his knees. His eyes snapped open, and he gazed down to find a foot buried deep into his legs. His knees bent, cracked, and snapped — Kenji let out a scream as he fell on the floor, writhing.
"Fuck... Ugh..." He said, looking up at Shō, who casually walked over and grabbed Kenji by the hair. He forced him up, turning his gaze to the stage.
"Look around you, look at your two friends." Shō said, his grip tightening.
Kenji stared, looking at where Aiden and Octavia should be. A pile of black-tar lined their surroundings, yet they were battered, beaten, bleeding. Aiden had an arm missing, Octavia had a claw lodged in her arm. Both were near-death, collapsing and stumbling with every strike.
"You're outmatched." Shō said, his voice cold. "You don't belong here. When you're given the chance, turn and run."
Kenji grit his teeth. The two were suffering, dying, and Kenji's mind blamed himself for it. He forced himself to grit his teeth, fighting off the tears in his eyes.
"Why... are you doing this?" Kenji pleaded, begged.
"No real reason." Shō hummed. "I told you, I'm a monster. So stay away."
Shō raised a hand, and all the fallen tar monsters began to reform. They regenerated in a near-instant manner, reforming limbs and reknitting flesh. Kenji's eyes widened, his teeth grit.
"They're dying." Shō all declared, "Including you."
Kenji's eyes snapped open as a hand reached for his throat. Kenji struggled to breathe, his neck crushed under Shō's grip. He grit his teeth, feeling the bones snap as he gurgled out blood.
The last image he saw was the group of monsters rushing in towards Octavia and Aiden, tar soaked monsters ripping into them — their screams rippled through the auditorium.
"Consider this a mercy, little brother."
"W-Wait—"
Snap!
Kenji's neck snapped, and he fell limp — dead. Shō stood back up, taking in a deep breath, quivering and cold. He grit his teeth. "Why the hell did you come here, idiot?"
Kenji's lifeless body stayed limp, lifeless and unmoving.
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"Alright that should be enough, send in the antidote."
A gas hissed into the air-vents, entering the lungs of every recruit in the chamber.
A pair of red eyes blinked to life. A sharp inhale bringing him back to life. A hand reached towards his neck, checking to see his injuries.
"W-What the hell?" The red-eyed boy looked around.
Everything was back to normal. All the chairs were snapped back into place, every single recruit — both living and dead — were back in their seats, very much alive but clearly shaken and trembling.
Many stood still in terror, and Kenji himself felt sweat pour down his head.
"What the hell happened?" Kenji asked, turning to find Aiden in a similar state of shock.
"So," Shō suddenly began, still back at the podium — spotless, clean. "You might be wondering what just happened."
He cleared his throat, then gestured toward the corner of the stage.
A quiet hum filled the air as a small drone drifted into view, carrying a familiar syringe between its pincers. It hovered for a moment before lowering the needle neatly into Shō's waiting hand.
"Remember the blood test you all went through earlier?" he began, his voice calm — almost bored. "Laced into those syringes was a little something special — an experimental compound developed by our very own Ars Animus department."
He held up the syringe, letting the light catch the clear liquid within.
"That compound links each of your minds to a psychic field — with me as the host."
Shō paused, scanning the room. "Think of it like a game server," he added, tone dry. "I'm the admin. You're the players."
A ripple of confusion and dread spread through the crowd. Some recruits blanched, others started shaking. The memory of their deaths — of dying — still clung to their eyes.
Shō sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Before anyone throws up, there are paper bags under your chairs. Please use them. I'm not cleaning that up again."
A few nervous laughs cracked through the tension, hollow and unsure. Shō smiled faintly — not kindly, but with the detached satisfaction of someone who'd made his point.
"What the hell was that!?"
One of the recruits shot up from their seat, eyes wide and voice shaking. "You son of a bitch! You just made us watch ourselves die! What the hell is wrong with you!?"
Another stood up beside him. "That was illegal! I saw my own death with my own two eyes! I'm suing every one of you psychos!"
A third joined in, voice trembling with fury. "This is a sick joke — what the fuck were you all thinking!?"
The murmurs turned into a wave — dozens of voices overlapping, anger and fear bleeding together. For a brief moment, the auditorium was chaotic again.
Shō simply exhaled, a low sigh through his nose.
"What you saw," he began, his voice slicing through the noise, calm yet absolute, "is exactly what you're signing up for."
The crowd stilled, heads turning toward him. Shō lifted the microphone, his tone grave — not cruel, not mocking, but clinical. Detached.
"The Choir chose you because you're the best of the best. But there's one thing we can't measure with skill tests or combat exams — your will. Your instinct to survive when death stares you in the face."
He let that hang for a moment. "As far as we're concerned, you all passed. Even those who died in the simulation. You're still in."
He pointed toward the large double doors as they creaked open at the back of the hall, light spilling through.
"If you choose to stay."
He looked across the sea of shaken faces. His gaze was tired, but firm — the kind of exhaustion only leaders of nightmares carry.
"You've now seen the truth — what we face, what we are. You think we're monsters?" His voice hardened. "Good. Because that's what it takes to fight the ones hiding in the dark."
He lowered the microphone slightly. "Leave now, and your memories will be wiped clean. You'll live a normal life — safe, ignorant, and blissfully blind."
A long pause.
"But if you stay…"
He straightened his coat. His tone grave. Shō's look carried the weight of a thousand deaths.
"Then you fight with us. You bleed with us. You die with us."
He looked to the crowd, then to his watch.
"You have ten minutes. Make your choice. Leave, or stay. I promise you we don't have any more tricks to pull."