Incinerator: Trash Bags and Empty Shells
Doesn't a gun not hurt if you shoot it gently? Amazing.
I was just standing there in an unfamiliar place, holding a trash bag. The sky was entirely red. No, it was a red sky packed with pitch-black clouds, and the air reeked of something foul. A massive noise echoed from afar, sending regular vibrations through the ground that kicked up faint clouds of dust. The sky itself wasn't shining with red light, though. It was more like the gloomy, stale glow under an old fluorescent lamp from a bygone era—something that stirred a vague old memory. The ground was fine black ash, ground to a powder-like texture. But my footsteps didn't sink into it. That's just how it works.
Straight ahead, countless empty shells resembling human forms stood in neat rows and columns, each clutching a trash bag. Right in front of me was one too—an utterly hollow human-shaped shell. But it lacked any color or subtle movements that a real human would have. It just stood there like a robot, holding the trash bag and staring straight ahead. It was the perfect vibe for something called an unpleasant valley.
The shells were all facing a gigantic building ahead. Or maybe I should call it a colossal structure. It filled one entire side of my field of vision, blotting out the dark red sky. A factory? Its surface was coated in some dingy, pitch-black grime—whether from soot or its original color, I couldn't tell. Rusty metal pipes snaked across it in chaotic tangles, like twisted innards. Every time that massive metallic noise boomed like a rhythmic heartbeat, thick black smoke belched from the enormous chimney at the top, where it scraped the sky. A farter, huh? Gross.
And in front of that was... well, a creepy chain-link fence stretching off to the horizon. The gate was pretty wide, decked out with an LED display screaming "I'm high-tech!" But the vibe clashed so hard it just came off as tacky. Like some outdated uncle's idea of aesthetics from a fad long past. Detection-wise, the explorable space felt way narrower than what my eyes could see. Interesting. Is this the Weird Phenomenon I've only heard about? No colors or wavelengths like I'm used to. If anything, it had that retro old-world feel that might let me sink into nostalgia. Even the fine dust choking the air fit right in.
Anyway, in this world, they call stuff like this a Weird Phenomenon Awakened Event. Like, you eat three bites of rice, burp, drink some water, and boom—you're off to the backrooms. Phenomena that can suck you in because some rule suddenly pops into existence. Or entities born from those rules. I skimmed the wiki on Awakened entities, so I don't know the fine details—like how they're classified as real vs. phenomenal to distinguish from monsters or whatever. And who knows if that's even accurate info. They say rules exist, so behavior matters more than raw power. But isn't that just code for "you're too weak"? Impossible for an invincible magical girl like me.
Everyone's holding trash bags, so maybe a garbage-related Weird Phenomenon? That farting smokestack makes it look like an incinerator. Forums mention rule sheets or something—where do you even find those? Eh, whatever. I shake the rustling trash bag. Love that gravelly sound. Doesn't even feel tense being trapped in a mess like this. More like they've plugged me into an immersive VR game—kinda exciting. If they gave me the rule sheet, I'd follow it for better play, but nah, I'll do my own thing. Keehihi.
Plus, I could probably bail anytime just by willing it. The space's boundaries feel like a thin balloon to me. Should I test a chant spell on that factory? Too risky on Earth. Wonder if this place can take it. A bombardment-type magical boy who's never actually bombarded. If I just poke the tip in, it should be fine, right? Yeah? Guns don't hurt if you shoot gently, do they?
I toss the trash bag, transform out of habit, and catch it on the way down. Summon my magic wand. Magic wand in one hand, trash bag in the other. Avant-garde armament complete! I swing the wand at a shell freak.
「Whoosh. Pffft.」
The shell bursts from my light swing, splattering gooey across the ground. It farts out a squirting noise as it shreds into pathetic human-shaped scraps. Uh... what the hell was that feedback? No way, this game's total trash? Can they patch this? I'd hyped myself for full-immersion VR, and it's a letdown right from the start. No color, so maybe it's just a regular object? Didn't expect it to be hollow inside, but... well, 3D models are empty anyway.
The other freaks don't react at all, even after one pops. Gotta break some rule for them to swarm like zombies? Feels like enemies from a trash game's buggy code. Total dogshit game. Guess I'll chant and incinerate 'em all at once. I didn't wanna shoot, but you asked for it, freakies! Just a light shot! This is basic chant magic! Bombardments are supposed to be fun! What if the balloon pops bang?
My rainbow light flashes green...
"Wh-what the hell is this?!"
Passive detection pings 7 o'clock—sudden filthy color nearby. Barely not black, total scumbag vibes. What? Amazing. Popped up like magic. No sense of time involved. Well, same when I moved here. Monster hopeful's sweating bullets, clutching a huge heavy suitcase instead of a trash bag. Blame the bad air, but the bald guy's dome is all wrinkled and flushed red like the sky. Illegal dumping?
A quick scan shows a corpse wrapped tight in thick plastic inside. Whoa, bingo! Way better than my ice cream tub dice. Laundry—laundry needs washing, scumbag. Just as I'm thrilled to have a fun wand-swinging target, another color pops at 3 o'clock.
"Uh... nng? A Weird Phenomenon Awakened Event! Th-this... an incin—incinerator. N-no way, the anomaly... No rules broken, though."
Cute girl in pink furry pajamas covered in animal prints steps out, holding a small food waste bag—like she's dumping trash before bed. Brave enough to go out in that? Endearingly mob-faced with a ponytail. Pretty colors. Eh, bombardment next time. Gotta be a trash-dumping lure phenomenon. I toddle up to the sweating bald scumbag out of habit.
"Wh-what?!"
Light tap on the bald head with my wand. 『Crunch!』 Yes! That's the stuff. Nothing like the deflated feel from before—proper skull-crushing satisfaction! Real hand-feel makes the difference. His shattered bald pate caves into his body and explodes backward. Arms splay out from the dented crater. Rigidity kicks in; legs snap straight and stiffen. Palm tree pose! Artistic score! Keehihi.
I appraise the falling man's form.
"Eek!"
Oh, oops. Too stimulating? Got too into my hobby; normal senses are off-kilter. The trembling girl clamps a hand over her mouth, holding her breath. Kinda sorry. To signal harmlessness, I try smiling—but only the trash-bag hand's free, so I shake it. Rustle-rustle.
She bows her head, squeezes her eyes shut at the gravelly echo, and hugs her bag like treasure, shaking harder. Wet food waste soaks her pajamas against her big mob-girl tits. Di-dirty. Way too scared? Is this normal? My grotesque tolerance is high, so who knows. Since becoming a magical girl, it's just been fun. Leaving the bald guy might lead to shrieky noise. No choice. Laundry can wait.
I float my wand, toddle over, and poke her arm. "Eep!" She startles wildly from my light finger jab. Didn't peg her for this jumpy? Or maybe?
"...Suspected conditional hostility. Sound... pass."
She starts muttering checklists under her breath. What? Otaku?
"Visual... gaze..."
She widens her eyes and looks at me. Stare like that and I'll get embarr—
"Pass."
Snap—head down, chanting quick. Huh? Th-that... why glance and dodge so fast? Hurts the hikikomori feelings. Tough magical girl heart shrugs it off, but for revenge, I poke her squishy flesh wildly. "Ee-hee-eek." Not laughing, not suffering—just doubled-up writhing. Keehihi, fun. Masochist vibes tickling my sadism. Comfy kinship! First human warmth in ages. Poke-poke-poke-poke. Poke-poke-poke-poke.
"Eek. Eek. P-please stop."
Ah. S-sorry. Got carried away. The inner uncle slinks back disappointed into his tiny house in my vast heart.