Takakai wiped the blood from his neck, spitting out a mouthful of crimson.
The Rescue Team Badge was slowly repairing his body—sealing the gash that had nearly decapitated him, mending the claw marks raked across his torso.
The moment he'd locked eyes with the headless [Teacher], an invisible force had sliced through his throat. But in that critical instant, Takakai had pressed his pistol to his chest and fired hundreds of rounds in a single burst, using the recoil to blast himself backward—just barely avoiding a fatal blow.
Of course, he'd still been grievously wounded. The attack had severed his trachea and carotid artery, sending blood spraying in arcs.
Yet Takakai simply clamped his hands over the wound, forcing it shut as the badge's power kicked in. Within seconds, his flesh knitted back together.
Then—
Kaguya and Hayasaka were gone.
"Spatial transfer? No… this feels like overlapping layers."
The sensation reminded him of Fujika Academy's surface and inner world transition, yet distinct. He wasn't just displaced—he'd entered a new stratum of Shirasawa Elementary.
Like Silent Hill's Otherworld? Or are there more than two layers?
Yoshitaka's notes mentioned the school's layout constantly shifting, defying mapping. Had that poor bastard been hopping between layers from the start?
Then why didn't it happen to me in his room?
…Because I didn't open the window. Didn't interact with whatever was outside.
Guess Yoshitaka was a bit too curious for his own good.
Regardless, the situation had escalated.
New horrors were emerging—ones even Crimson Moon players might not have witnessed.
(Though given the malice saturating this place, Takakai doubted many who saw them survived. Frankly, he gave himself 50/50 odds of making it out. His track record was consistent that way.)
"The terrain's changed."
Rising to his feet, Takakai surveyed his surroundings.
The headless teacher and phantom students had vanished.
On the wall, the childish classroom doodles had mutated—scribbled over with frenzied red and black lines. Some strokes were so violent they'd torn through the paper. A faint copper tang hung in the air.
Most desks and chairs had melted or shattered, their remains fused with the floor. Only one set remained intact—as if waiting for inspection.
The lectern was gone, replaced by a rubberized running track stretching into darkness. Shadowy figures flickered along its length.
The ceiling dissolved midair, giving way to black sky and drizzling rain.
The entrance door had sealed into a solid wall, now covered in more chaotic crayon figures.
The last unexplored door had transformed into an oak door with a viewing window, faint light glimmering beyond.
Student Rule #1
Approaching the sole intact desk, Takakai found knife-carved text:
[Student Rule #1]
Avoid all areas marked with a "red smiley face." If you hear giggling ("hehe… haha…") approaching:
DO NOT flee.
DO NOT search for the source.
Crouch, close your eyes, and cover your ears until safe.
The writing was childish but deliberate—likely dictated by an adult.
As Takakai pondered this, something approached.
His blessing—the one that sensed malice—erupted in warning. Unlike Alice's presence, which dampened his perception, this entity amplified itself, broadcasting its horror like a foghorn.
Every hair on his body stood on end.
"Hehe… haha…"
He crouched.
Covered his ears.
Shut his eyes.
Small feet pattered past him.
Breathy laughter circled like a shark.
"Hehe… haha…"
The voice seemed to hover above him—then right in front of him, nose-to-nose.
Frenzied footsteps.
Panting. Shrieking.
Takakai did not move.
"Look at me…"
A whisper, directly in his ear:
"Look at me… look at me… LOOK AT ME! Hehe… HAHAHA!"
Genderless. Ageless. Wrong.
Takakai held firm.
Finally—silence.
When he opened his eyes, the floor was covered in small bare footprints, some fresh, some faded.
Standing, he turned toward the windowed door—
And locked eyes with a woman's head peering through the glass.
Reunion
BANG!
The head exploded backward from a gunshot.
Takakai bolted onto the rain-slick track, dodging swarming shadows as his blessing-enhanced speed sent him skimming the ground like a bullet.
The track was short—100 meters circular—flanked by barbed wire fences and military-style barracks.
(Climbing? No. Children wouldn't believe anyone could scale these. In this layer, perception shapes reality.)
At the track's end, a locked side door barred his path.
The headless woman's body was reassembling, her shadowy form sprinting toward him—
CLICK.
The Blood Key turned in the lock.
Takakai lunged inside, yanking the key out and slamming the door just as fingernails scraped the frame.
Then—
WHAM!
A frying pan nearly brained him.
"It's me. Takakai."
He caught the pan mid-swing, eyeing the school kitchen they now stood in. Rows of utensils, segmented trays—nostalgically mundane.
"M-Mr. Takakai?!"
Hayasaka's grip faltered. He easily disarmed her, setting the pan aside.
"Brave, but don't try that again. If it had been one of them, you'd be dead."
His gaze flicked over her—drenched, shivering, clad only in a soaked T-shirt—before he tactfully turned away.
"And while the view is… educational, you'll want coverage. Skin isn't as durable as fabric."
Hayasaka's face flamed crimson as she scrambled behind a stack of steel drums.
Takakai retrieved the dripping shirt she'd left on a cutting board—the one Maki had mailed him.
No sign of Kaguya. Hopefully she's safe.
And once again, I'm stuck babysitting a newbie. First Nutty Putty Cave, then Fujika, now this. Some kind of curse?
Suppressing a sigh, he tossed the damp shirt toward Hayasaka's hiding spot.
"Put it on. A little water won't kill you—but what's coming might."
Then he rolled his 20-sided die on the counter.
It landed on:
6