The corridors of Hoshin Academy twisted like the veins decaying, their walls scarred with graffiti, crude skulls and jagged curses smeared with ink and blood. The air hung thick with damp rot and the faint tang of rust. A Dim light flickered and hummed from cracked ceiling panels, what's left of man made bubs, while some drones threw past with spotlights, others wheeled ensure ensuring whatever the game master required was fulfilled, and cameras were surprisingly well maintained, not a peep or creek from their gears as they shifted and moved.

  Ms. Akasuki moved along down the eastern wing, her skirt brushing against the wall as her steps were deliberate, avoiding the debris littering the floor. Her long black hair swayed with each stride, tied back tightly to not get caught, while in her hand, she clutched a scavenged metal ruler, pathetic as a weapon, but its weight grounded her.

  She paused on the second floor, tracing the edge of the graffiti with her finger, the paint still tacky reads, Ridden Troll, slashed in crimson with a skull with a jester’s hat grinning mockingly beside it. Her pulse quickened, but she moved on, ears twitched at any sound beyond the distant hum of the school’s failing systems.

  The sports hall loomed closer, across the grounds its double doors scratched and dented, glass windows covered and fortified, a faint glow seeping through the cracks. She popped her head out the main building, voices drifted faintly from ahead, guttural murmurs punctuated by a sharp laugh. Students, likely Takanashi’s gang, their words too muddled to catch. Ms. Akasuki tightened her grip on the ruler, her breath shallow. Reo could be in there, trapped or worse. She couldn’t turn back now.

  Meanwhile, Kitaro led Ichika and Sakura through the far corridors, the fire axe a steady weight across Sakura's shoulder. The trio moved in tense silence, their footsteps crunching over shattered glass and splintered desks. Sakura’s blonde pigtails swayed as she scanned the shadows, her jaw tight with purpose. Ichika trailed close, her black hair a dark veil while Kitaro’s stocky frame led up front, his scavenged helm glinting faintly, rebar clutched like a lifeline.

  The hallway stretched ahead. Graffiti stained the walls, Maggots Die, No Hope Here, the letters jagged as if clawed into the concrete. A faint drip echoed somewhere, water or worse pooling in the dark. Sakura’s grip on the axe tightened, her eyes darting to every corner. “Stay close,” she muttered, voice low. “Hinata could be anywhere.”

  Ichika nodded, her hands trembling slightly. “Outside from our place… it’s worse than I thought.”

  Kitaro snorted, his voice gruff. “You get used to it. Or you don’t.” He adjusted his helm, the metal scraping faintly against his scalp, muffled “yous are luck, missed most of these ‘games’ these bots keep offering us”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Sakura’s nostrils flared, fist clenching as she opened her mouth to snap back, but Ichika grabbed her arm, a silent plea for the right time and place.

  They rounded a corner, and the air shifted, thicker, heavier, laced with something metallic. Sakura froze, her breath catching as a low groan rumbled from the shadows ahead. Before she could react, a figure lunged, fast, silent, a blur of motion. It slammed into Kitaro with a sickening crunch, sending him crashing against the wall.

  “Kitaro!” Ichika screamed, stumbling back as blood sprayed across the tiles.

  Sakura whirled, axe raised, but the assailant was gone, melted into the dark. Kitaro slumped to the floor, his helm askew, a gash splitting his forehead, nose busted and lip ripped. Blood pooled within his armour, dark and viscous, seeping out the cracks. His chest heaved, shallow gasps rattling out, each one weaker than the last. The unseen attacker’s heavy breathing lingered in the air, a predator circling just out of sight.

  “Kitaro, hold on!” Sakura dropped to her knees beside him, hands shaking as she pressed them against the out wound. Warm blood slicked her fingers, too much, too fast. “Ichika, help me!”

  Ichika snapped out of her shock, kneeling beside them. “What do we do? He’s…”

  “Bandages,” Sakura cut in, voice sharp with panic. “The vending machine down the hall. I’ll get them. Stay with him!” She didn’t wait for a reply, bolting upright and sprinting into the dark, axe banging against her back.

  The corridor blurred past her, a tunnel of wreckage and dread. Her boots pounded the tiles, kicking up dust and glass, her breath ragged in her throat. The vending machine was close, she’d seen it before, a hulking kiosk, out of place being well maintained except for the graffiti, its screen flickering to live. She just had to reach it.

  Her eyes caught something as she ran, bloody streaks on the floor, smeared like a careless brushstroke. Beside them, a scattering of vegetables: a few crushed tomatoes, a carrot snapped in half, their red and orange stark against the grime. Her stomach twisted. The Rooftoppers’ harvest? How did it get here? Paranoia gnawed at her, questions piling up with no answers. She shoved them down, focusing on getting bandages ahead.

  The machine loomed into view, its screen pulsing with a dull green glow. Sakura slammed her ID card against the scanner, her hands trembling as the system beeped.

  Rank/Name: Student Sakura

  Points: 175

  Dispensing: First Aid Kit – 50 Points

  A slot whirred open, spitting out a small pack, bandages, tape, antiseptic. She snatched it up, turning to run back, when a shadow shifted behind her. Too close. Too quiet.

  Sakura spun, lifting her axe halfway up, but the figure was faster. A staff swung from the dark, a knot twisted wooden stick, adorned with faded ribbons and a metal heart shaped tip. The Love Staff. It cracked against her temple, sharp and brutal, sending her staggering. Pain spread through her skull, white-hot and blinding. The axe slipped from her grip, clattering to the floor as her vision blurred.

  She stumbled, clutching her head, blood trickling warm down her cheek. The shadowy figure loomed closer, its breath heavy, deliberate. Confusion drowned her, magic girl staff? Who? Her knees buckled, the world tilting as the figure raised the staff again. Darkness swallowed her, the last sound a faint, mocking chuckle fading into nothing.