Chapter 4

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Translator: penny

Chapter: 4

Chapter Title: Black Pupils

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Who was it that said the fear closest to its root is ignorance?

That's a damn fine quote.

Just toss me a few scraps of info and lock me in here.

Hodaldal—!

I'm prowling the hallway, drenched in cold sweat like a madman.

I have no idea who the lunatic was that claimed "regressors" don't fear death. I'm still fucking terrified of dying.

The real-time crunch of my neck snapping, that sensation.

I'd rather hole up in my room for a year than go through that again.

And that mocking look on its face.

'If I don't smash a knife into that smug mug, I'm a bastard.'

If that thing was a fellow "sentient being" like me, it'd definitely be slacking off right now.

Especially if it was one of the gallery folks.

They're probably spamming shit like that right now.

Which is why this is the perfect time to do my rounds.

I've got 8 hours to survive from now.

'Patrol? Shouldn't that mean locking unlocked doors or something normal? But this goddamn rulebook is so vague, I don't even know what to do.'

Suddenly, a feeling hit me that this life might end up wasted too.

But considering the rules updated right before I died last time.

There has to be at least some hope.

Seven rules are gone, so just seven more deaths and escape is basically guaranteed.

Step... step... step...

My footsteps echo through the empty hallway.

The only thing I can trust is the flashlight in my hand.

The hallway where fixed phrases play like a round-robin chant.

Even in the form of black haze, they were entities that just replayed the same lines like NPCs.

How do I know?

"Kiyaaaaaaaah!!!!!!!!!"

"I won't forgive the grotesque!!!!!"

Hit 'em hard with the wooden bat and they vanished.

I bolted right away expecting aggro.

Should I have gathered them all and sent them to the afterlife?

I thought it was like those old Tsukuru games with hints, tried combining them and racking my brain.

"No clue. Seriously no clue."

The one thing I figured out myself.

The shadows in the hallway seemed "harmless" unlike the one that snapped my neck.

Shhh—

Next to the shadow I dispersed with the bat.

Unlike other classrooms, the door labeled [1-2] caught my eye, wide open.

How did I not think of this?

Patrol doesn't mean I have to wander. Hiding in one spot could be a solid strategy.

Shared it with the gallery for crowd wisdom.

Half approved.

Half were negative.

'Cabinets are hiding spots in most games, right?'

Based on my jammin days dodging the blue monster in the backroom.

That cabinet was surely made for hiding.

'Let's go.'

With determined steps, I entered the classroom marked [1-2].

A scene no different from an ordinary classroom.

Yet in this bizarre place, "ordinary" reeked of strange disgust.

"Anyone there~?"

Of course, only silence answered.

Looked around, no obvious anomalies.

Click—! Thud!

Inside the cabinet, flashlight off too—my sole companion. It smelled a bit since it's for cleaning supplies.

But compared to death, a cheap drawback. I endured and flung open the gallery.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Resurrection is that OP?"

As the guy himself, I'd thought it was the worst because it hurts like hell.

But objectively, this was a device made for strange tales.

Lack info?

Die and gather it.

Gamble with death chance?

Die and check.

Need power?

Ah, that's truly the worst. Fucking ocean.

Having a clear weakness means no other weaknesses.

Just as the courage I'd mustered started stirring again.

[Did you do today's homework?]

[Homework?]

[Teacher said punishment if not done by today.]

Voices from what was surely an "empty" classroom.

Childish voices, unmistakably students chatting.

Just like real students.

Carrying on normal class chat.

[WhatdoIdo whatdoIdo whatdoIdo?]

[Skip again and might get ■■.]

[What was the homework again?]

[Obviously that.]

Oh, Lord.

How airtight is the plausibility for it to flow just like the gallery said.

Sudden cutoff conversation.

Followed by minutes of silent quiet.

And then.

4. Each classroom has students showing peculiar behavior. Never communicate with them. No lifeforms exist here besides you.

A forgotten rule resurfaced.

Am I a total idiot?

Even if most were erased, rules are rules.

Should've memorized them all before patrol.

So foolish.

[Brainbrainbrainbrainbrainbrainbrainbrainbrainbrainbrainbrainbrainbrainbrainbrain]

[Legslegslegslegslegslegslegslegs]

[Armsarmsarmsarmsarmsarmsarmsarmsarmsarmsarmsarmsarmsarmsarmsarms]

Myriad voices from before the cabinet.

That instant, I knew this run was fucked too.

So I closed my eyes to die easy.

But.

A message from one of the high-nicks.

Doomed anyway, so casually opened the gallery.

First double curse from a gallery bro I'd met less than a day.

Less rage, more wronged.

No rules, what the hell am I supposed to do.

But as if answering, he continued.

Chew up fear.

How macho is that.

Still, his words had merit.

If grotesques spawn from rumors and emotions, their source ties to emotions too.

Think.

Think.

Think.

Outside are cafeteria jammin kids.

Weak jammin punks that drop in one or two hits.

As self-hypnosis peaked.

"Ah, now—!!!"

I flung open the cabinet with a mighty yell.

The "students" that appeared were grotesques from a different genre.

They charged me clearly targeting.

Kwachik!

But my fist was faster than their speed.

Durability no different from hallway shadows.

One entity's head caved in, exploding.

"Fucking rice?"

Instant urge to slaughter them all, but now's for escape and survival, not PVP.

Tadadak. Tak.

Steps headed straight for hallway end.

[Teachert teachert teachert teacher]

[Homework homework homework]

[Page44 page44 page44 page44]

Even after escaping classroom, grotesques clung till the end.

"Not leaving? Really not? Huh? Won't leave?"

Smashed heads of a few clinging ones.

Others, despite "friends" setting, charged emotionlessly.

"You! Fucking! Bitches!"

Kwachik! Wooduk! Ppakak!

Unlike the neck-snapping shadow.

They had durability like hallway "shadows."

Of course, unlike NPC-like ones, they had power too.

[Flesh flesh flesh!]

[Teacher'll forgive this much]

[Flesh one, people many?]

These fuckers, even after tearing forearm chunk.

Chased to kill over "homework."

'Baseball bat and it'd be insta-wipe...!'

Unlike superhuman grotesques.

I had shredded arm and intact body.

Eyes scanned around.

Like cavemen with stone axes, I grabbed a nearby wooden stick.

"Diechaaaaaaa!!!"

Kaaaang!!

Sent 3 charging grotesques to heaven in a row.

Hand feel killer, so durability truly rice-tier.

[Teachert teachert teachert teacher]

[Callcallcallcallcallcall]

[Schoolviolence schoolviolence schoolviolence]

"You fucks for real? Who tried killing first, now crying school violence."

[Execution execution execution execution execution]

[Die die die die die die]

[Wannalive wannalive wannalive]

"You're cod pollack worse than fish cutlet. Got it?"

No point talking to non-communicators.

Ppakak! Wooduk! Pueng!

Just swung the stick.

Swing.

Swing again.

Half down, stick broke.

Used broken end as dagger, stabbed.

Puk!

Puk!

Puk!

How many did I kill?

By stairs, only one left.

Was Muscle Supreme right?

Absolute in cabinet, now just plucky sandbags.

The one before me, example.

[Teachert teachert teachert teacher]

[Don'tturn don'tturn don'tturn don'tturn]

[Danger danger danger danger danger danger]

Last grotesque, alone after losing friends.

Didn't charge like others.

Just chanted unknown round song.

"What are you?"

[Don'tturn don'tturn don'tturn]

"Talk if I spare you."

[Teachert teachert teachert teacher]

"Sigh, whatever."

Grotesque whose words I couldn't even understand.

It kept talking till I stepped on stairs.

Steps slow.

Slow but precise to next floor.

In a situation I'd ignore normally.

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

That unforgettable "thud" sound.

Vibration right before neck snap death.

Shadow vibration!

Chasing from behind?

Then run up now...!

In extreme tension, instinctively turned back.

There.

Black pupils stared at me.

Stared at me.

Staring.

Staring.

Staring.

Staring.

...

…