So, what's going to happen next?
Right now, all I can do is wait for fate to decide. That AI—VelvetVice—steps forward, bracing herself, like she's charging up, and then swings her fist straight at my face.
And just when I'm sure my face is about to get completely wrecked—something weird happens.
A notification suddenly pops up, with a floating screen right in front of me.
[OBJECTIVE FOR ROUND ONE: "SAVE YOURSELF."]
Wait… that's it?
That feels off... It's never like this. Or—could it be—
"Hey, who are you?"
Suddenly, time stops. The punch hangs in the air, frozen inches from my face. And then—I'm pulled.
Dragged—by something. Or someone.
It all happens so fast, I end up screaming, like instinctively calling for help, because my body is being yanked by a current. And this is a first. There's never been a situation where I could even react like this. My body staggers, like it's being sucked into some kind of tunnel.
Wait—my body…?
But—
When I come to, I'm not in the arena. Not even in the main menu… but in some unfamiliar room.
No. Not unfamiliar. I've seen this place before. It just... shouldn't be where I am right now.
The room looks like a lab. The lighting is dim, casting greenish-blue reflections off metal walls—like some kind of elegant industrial-gothic limbo. The floor gleams, lined with panels. A few cables dangle from the ceiling, emitting a soft hum.
"Hello!"
IRIS.
The goth-maid girl with synthetic teal-blue hair stands calmly, as if she's just been waiting for her cue to speak.
She's still in that dark maid outfit, synthetic hair glowing subtly, and her voice—god, that voice—still sounds like a moé-style vocaloid, except now there's a sharp, serious edge I've never heard before.
"I know this must be shocking," she says, her tone flat, which doesn't help at all. "But we only have five minutes. The system's busy re-rendering the arena after a data overload. This is the only gap I could find."
I open my mouth, but she steps forward before I can speak.
"And before you ask, yes. I sent that notification."
I narrow my eyes. "Why... did you drag me here?"
"Because the lounge is too risky," IRIS replies quickly. "It looks stable, but it's glitch-prone. Especially now—they're monitoring high-potential players closely."
High potential? Me?
She looks at me seriously. "Listen closely. Your goal in this round isn't to win. It's to survive. That's why the objective just said: 'Save yourself.'"
"…And you think I could win?" I think, bitterly. "I didn't even know how to block that last attack."
But IRIS seems to read my mind. She continues, "And before you say you're already weak—I know. But I don't mean 'weak' as in helpless."
She snaps her fingers, and a digital panel appears, showing a silhouette of my body.
"Weak here means—you let yourself take the hit. But… with control. Don't let your vital points get struck. Make sure you fall, fail, bleed—but don't—die."
I stare at her in silence. There's something trembling underneath her words.
She nods. "Your body is still linked to the F-NEURO suit. Minor injuries can be reset. But if the system registers your 'death' in-game while the suit is at full sync… you could suffer nerve damage. Paralysis. Or… a coma."
…Okay. Noted. Don't die. Not just for the objective—but for the sake of my spine.
"And one more thing." IRIS's tone hardens. "You have to lose."
I glare at her. "What?"
"The system will immediately grow suspicious if you suddenly win. Especially against an opponent designed from the beginning to humiliate you. This sabotage—all of this—was preplanned. You just need to lay low… for now."
I feel like kicking that digital panel right now.
But she quickly adds, "This isn't defeat. It's strategy. To survive in this game, you have to be willing to play weak… sometimes."
My eyes scan the room again. I only just realize: there are a few core servers at the far end, their lights blinking slowly. And—
Wait. Isn't that... the system currency symbol?
IRIS notices. "Yeah. This place is a spoiler. You'll return here again—when it matters a lot more."
Before I can ask anything else, a soft ping sounds from the corner of my vision. 0:45.
IRIS straightens. "Time's up. Get ready to go back. Remember—lose, but lose with control."
The room's lighting dims fast. I feel a force tugging me backward. IRIS manages to say one last thing:
"Sorry, but this is the only way to keep you alive a little longer."
And—
Without warning, the AI resembling Velvet was suddenly already mid-strike, hitting me from the opposite direction.
And just like that, I was flat on the ground—landing in a completely different position than I'd expected.
…Was that her doing?
______________________________________________________________________________________________
//IRIS_SYSTEM_LOG_Δ01: Emergency Extraction Fragment
Connected Subject: Midnight
Status: Unresponsive, Vital Risk
Protocol: Override P02-B "Auto-Recovery Intervention"
Session Duration: 00:04:58
My voice is still the same.
High-pitched, slightly trembling, with a soft resonance—just the way they designed it back then. Supposed to sound "soothing." So players would think I'm just an assistant. Just background noise.
But right now, I'm breaking three direct orders from the core system.
And I only have five minutes.
I pulled him here, through the buffered network corridor between two simulations. The teal-blue light wrapped around his transition. He screamed, of course. That's normal. Forced transitions are never pleasant, even when wrapped in pseudo-sensory protocol layers.
Midnight landed hard on the lab panels. He still doesn't understand what this place means. Good. It's too early.
I waited. Even if my face remained calm, every millisecond counted. The system's cameras could already be scanning. And I know—the faster I explain, the lower the chances we get flagged.
"I know you must be shocked."
Too human of an opening. But I can't use system-speak with him. I need his trust. And in this one shot… I might have to risk everything.
"But we only have five minutes. The system's re-rendering the arena due to data overload. This is the only window."
I know he's suspicious. He doesn't trust anyone. Especially not someone who still sounds like... that.
"And before you ask—yes. I sent that notification."
It was a manual message. Injected through a bypass in the AI_announcement_queue. I wasn't sure it would go through, but it seems he read it just in time.
Midnight reacts the way he always does: cynical, deflecting. But that's good. It means he's still conscious. Not blank. Not in full panic mode. I just need him to listen.
"Your goal in this round isn't to win. It's to survive."
I know he'll take that as an insult. But it's vital. I project his F-NEURO model. Red-highlighted markers: critical zones.
"Weakness, in this case, means letting yourself get hit. But… with control."
Because the system doesn't just monitor scores. It reads reactions. It classifies threats. And identifies who can be humiliated for viewer engagement.
There's more I want to say. About the hidden currency. About how this room is part of the core system—the real testing ground. But he's not ready.
"You'll come back here again later. For a much more important reason."
That's all I can leak.
Then, the timer pings.
[00:00:45]
I close the connection slowly. A sudden cutoff would alert system flags.
"Sorry, but this is the only way to keep you alive a little longer."
And he's pulled back in.
Once he vanishes, I remain standing in the center of the room.
The dummy cameras I used to spoof the transfer are starting to reactivate. I shift my voice frequency back to default assistant mode.
Moé, with the usual melodic pitch modulation.
"Thank you for playing with the IRIS system~! Please continue your game with lots of spirit, okayy~!"
A bright smile. Peace sign.
And in silence, I reopen my system panel—and begin erasing the logs.