The world bent again.
One moment, Arata sat in his office, staring at an endless spreadsheet. The next, the lights blinked, the screen melted, and the floor dropped away.
When he opened his eyes, he was standing on scorched earth beneath a blood-red sky.
The smell of smoke and ash burned in his nose. All around him stretched a battlefield of ruins — crumbling walls, shattered vehicles, rusted weapons half-buried in sand. Sirens wailed in the distance, and the ground trembled with phantom explosions.
And everywhere, people appeared. Dozens. Then hundreds.
Men in suits. Women in uniforms. Teenagers in school clothes. Ordinary people ripped from their lives and dropped into a nightmare. Some screamed. Some fainted. Others stood frozen, eyes wide with terror.
Aya clutched Arata's sleeve immediately, trembling. Haruto cursed under his breath, scanning the chaos. Riku's lips curled, eyes darting to Arata with thinly veiled hatred. Ren simply smiled, her eyes glittering as if she'd been waiting for this moment.
A siren wailed louder. Then the voice came. Cold. Metallic.
"Welcome to the Army Game.
Players will be divided into battalions.
Your mission: defeat the opposing force.
Those who fail… will be executed."
A low murmur rippled through the crowd. "Battalions?" "Executed?!" "What is this?!"
Arata's expression didn't change. His eyes swept the battlefield, already calculating.
Aya clung closer. "Arata-kun… what do we do? What do we do—"
"Survive," he said flatly.
Names began flashing across the sky, written in burning red. Groups formed, pulled together by invisible chains.
Arata glanced at the faces as his team materialized around him. Aya. Haruto. Riku. Ren. A handful of strangers. And one woman who immediately stood out.
She was tall, poised, with sleek black hair tied neatly behind her head. Her clothes suggested she'd been pulled from a classroom — a blouse, skirt, and glasses that only sharpened her gaze. Unlike the others, she didn't scream or panic. She adjusted her glasses, scanned the field, and spoke in a voice calm enough to quiet those near her.
"We're not here to fight fair," she said. "We're here to survive. That means strategy. That means discipline. If any of you think you can run blindly, you'll die first."
Her eyes landed on Arata. Sharp. Measuring. Respectful.
"Name's Hayami Sayaka. I teach history. But I suppose that doesn't matter anymore."
Arata met her gaze. For the first time since the tower, someone looked at him not with fear or obsession — but recognition. Like she understood what he was beneath the surface.
Aya's lips quivered as she looked at Sayaka. She pressed herself closer to Arata, muttering under her breath. Haruto crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed by this "teacher." Riku narrowed his eyes, suspicion painted across his face.
Ren, however, smirked. "Ohhh… this one's interesting. I like the way she talks."
Sayaka ignored the chatter. She pointed to the ruins ahead, her tone brisk. "If this is an Army Game, then we'll be attacked soon. Weapons will be hidden somewhere in this field. The first thing we do is find them. Anyone disagree?"
Silence. Even Aya said nothing.
Arata finally spoke, his tone even. "You're right. But weapons won't save us. People will."
Sayaka's eyes sharpened, intrigued. "Go on."
Arata's faint smile returned. "This game isn't about bullets. It's about who commands and who obeys. Whoever controls the group… wins."
The two locked eyes. A dangerous understanding passed between them.
The siren screamed again.
"The battle begins. Survive."
Explosions shook the ground. Figures appeared on the horizon — the enemy battalion, armed and advancing fast.
Aya whimpered. Haruto swore. Riku's hands trembled. Ren laughed softly, eager for the show.
And Arata? He stepped forward, eyes gleaming in the red light.
"Form ranks," he commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Stay low, spread wide. Let the cowards die first. We'll move when I say."
The game had begun.