In the shadowed corridors of the dormitory building, the pursuit continued. All players, now under the control of the forbidden zone's eerie consciousness, hunted Lucas with a single-minded intensity.
But Lucas had already vanished.
Using the [Captain's Door], he casually opened a dimensional gate on the wall and stepped through. His form disappeared into the chaotic geometry of the building, slipping between realms like a ghost.
It was as though he walked through a world abandoned. The dormitory, once crawling with desperate figures, now seemed like a desolate fortress.
Without a visible target, the players dispersed, each scouring their own quadrant for any sign of him.
Before Lucas, risk assessments danced like holograms across his vision. He could see everyone's position—clear and distinct.
"Kill them..."
Lucas muttered, his voice barely audible. His left hand rose slowly, brushing his neck as he tilted his head.
A surge of excitement made the veins on his forehead bulge and throb.
"No... picking them off one by one is safer."
In an unlit room, one player crept inside, weapon at the ready.
Then—
A brutal kick struck him from behind, sending him sprawling across the floor.
He tumbled forward, bones rattling and dizziness clouding his mind.
Before he could react, a hand coiled around his throat and yanked him up.
The world spun as he was lifted high, dragged to a window—Window 16.
Outside: white light twisted space, and then, he was gone.
Elsewhere, on the first floor, a player combed through the public restroom. One by one, he opened the stall doors.
The first four were empty—left untouched for who knows how long.
Squeak...
He pushed open the final door.
Lucas's face slowly emerged from the shadows.
Before the player could react, Lucas lunged forward.
Gripping the man's skull with force, he twisted him around and shoved his head deep into the grime-filled toilet bowl.
The sickening splash echoed in the silence.
And so it continued.
In every room, in every hall, in every hidden corner—Lucas was death incarnate.
---
[System prompt: Player Caleb (No. 7) has died.]
[System prompt: Player Jason (No. 26) has died.]
[System prompt: Player Daniel (No. 23) has died.]
[System prompt: Player Mark (No. 4) has died.]
[System prompt: ...Updating death count...]
[Remaining dungeon players: (21/50)]
---
:??
:Lucas has snapped!
:11 people—gone just like that?!
:Wait, he didn't even touch them? He used the machine? What's going on?!
:Anyone else notice the death prompts are delayed?
:Yeah! Some players vanish, and only later do we get the system's death notice!
With growing panic, players outside the zone rushed to open the live feeds.
They found the answer.
Of the 11 black-screened players, six still had active broadcasts—and the images were horrifying.
One was embedded in solid cement, legs fused into the wall.
Another had been bisected by concrete, clean as if nature sculpted it.
A third had been transformed into a twisted tree, rooted into the soil, bark covering half his human torso.
The grotesque scenes drew gasps and sickened reactions.
They weren't in the restricted area—but they felt the chill in their spines.
Inside the dormitory, the slaughter raged on.
Lucas became a phantom. Unseen, untouchable, fatal.
No one saw his face. No one touched his coat.
Every door hid terror. Every creak echoed doom.
Still, the notifications rang out:
[System prompt: Player Jasmine (No. 40) has died.]
[System prompt: Player Trevor (No. 3) has died.]
[System prompt: Player Ivy (No. 15) has died.]
[System prompt: Player Chloe (No. 18) has died.]
[Updating death count...]
[Remaining dungeon players: (11/50)]
The dormitory fell into silence.
Only one puppet of the forbidden zone remained.
He stood frozen at the entrance, paralyzed by terror.
He could hear his own breath, jagged and rapid. His heart pounded as if trying to break free.
The silence grew heavier, thicker—
Then—
A tap on his shoulder.
The player spun around.
Lucas grinned at him, eyes wide with amusement.
"The number behind your ear is 50..."
The player's eyes widened.
"You're exactly my target."
With a sudden shove, Lucas sent him flying through the door.
The skies of the restricted zone opened above him.
White light flashed.
He vanished.
Back inside, Lucas stood alone.
He clutched the machine, watching, waiting.
His mental values dipped further.
400... and still falling.
"Soon..."
Suddenly—
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Heavy footsteps echoed outside.
One hand braced the door.
No. 50—the man Lucas just sent through—stumbled back inside.
His body was scorched, covered in black ash.
His skin crackled like dry parchment.
He collapsed, gasping, his voice a dry whisper.
"Explosion...explosion..."
Lucas crouched beside him, sniffing.
"A nuclear explosion?"
Without hesitation, Lucas drew his kitchen knife and ended the man's suffering.
[Target player: No. 50 (Deceased)]
[New target: Player No. 22]
Lucas stood slowly.
"Only No. 50 returned alive... but not for long."
In one hand, the kitchen knife. In the other, the machine.
He walked to the spot where No. 50 had disappeared.
He looked at the wall. Thoughtful.
"This must be the safest place..."
Raising the device, he aimed the suction port at himself.
Then—
Button pressed.
White light.
Space folded in on itself.
:???
:WHAT IS HE DOING???
:Lucas just sent himself in!?
:The little author is full of energy!
END OF CHAPTER.
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