The ground thundered.
Dust and fire rose as the enemy battalion advanced — a wave of terrified civilians forced into soldiers, their faces pale, their hands gripping weapons scavenged from the ruins.
Gunfire cracked in the distance. A woman screamed as bullets tore through her chest. A man stumbled into the open, only for his head to explode in a spray of red.
Panic surged through Arata's group. Aya clutched his sleeve, crying. Haruto gritted his teeth, muttering, "We're screwed." Riku's face was pale with fear. Ren's grin widened as if she was watching a movie she'd waited years to see.
But Arata? His expression didn't flicker.
"Stay low," he ordered calmly. "Don't waste your lives. Let the fools rush forward. Watch… and learn."
As if on cue, a group of terrified participants broke from cover and sprinted ahead. They didn't last three seconds. Bullets ripped through them, their bodies collapsing in a heap.
Aya whimpered. Haruto cursed. Riku turned away.
Sayaka, however, nodded. "Natural selection," she murmured.
Her eyes flicked to Arata again, and she smirked. "You're not panicking. You've done this before."
Arata met her gaze coolly. "Not this. But I know how people break. Fear is the first weapon. Control it, and you control everything."
The ruins shuddered with another explosion.
Ren crouched beside a corpse and plucked a bloodied knife from the ground, twirling it between her fingers. "Mmm… this game is beautiful. It strips people down to what they really are."
Aya flinched at the sight of the knife. She turned to Arata desperately. "Arata-kun… we have to find weapons too, right? If we don't—"
"Patience," Arata said softly. Then louder, for the group: "Listen carefully. Weapons are scattered across this field. But if you run blindly, you'll be cut down like cattle. The key isn't to grab the first gun you see. The key… is to let others find them, then take them when they fall."
Gasps. Someone hissed, "That's cruel!" Another muttered, "Monster…"
Sayaka chuckled under her breath. "Efficient."
The battle raged.
People screamed. Guns barked. Blood sprayed across the cracked walls.
And then, opportunity struck.
A man from another battalion ducked into their ruin, clutching a rifle to his chest, eyes wide with terror. He didn't even notice Arata step forward.
One smooth motion — Arata seized the barrel, twisted, and drove his knee into the man's stomach. The rifle fell into his hands.
The man looked up, gasping. "P-please… don't—"
Arata's boot came down on his throat. The crack echoed. Silence followed.
Gasps erupted from the group. Aya froze, horrified. Haruto's face hardened. Riku's eyes blazed with suspicion. Ren's grin turned hungry. Sayaka adjusted her glasses, eyes glinting with approval.
Arata turned, holding the rifle loosely in his hands. His voice was calm, his smile razor-sharp.
"Now… who wants to live?"
The effect was instant. Fear silenced every protest. Even Aya couldn't speak, her lips trembling. Haruto clenched his fists but said nothing. Riku glared but looked away first.
Sayaka stepped forward, her voice firm. "He's right. This isn't about morals. It's about survival. If you're too weak to accept that, you'll be dead before sundown."
Arata glanced at her — and for the first time, smiled genuinely. "Looks like we understand each other."
Sayaka smirked back. "More than you think."
Aya's nails dug into Arata's sleeve, her whisper sharp, jealous. "Arata-kun… don't trust her."
But Arata only looked ahead, eyes gleaming as the battlefield roared around them.
The timid boy was gone. The mask was gone.
This was Arata's true face.