The ruins shifted again. Walls crumbled, the battlefield tearing open to reveal a labyrinth of trenches stretching into the distance. Barbed wire coiled across the dirt. The air stank of smoke and burning flesh.
From above, the metallic voice echoed:
"Phase Two: Trench Warfare.
Rule: Capture the enemy's command flag.
Failure: Elimination."
A command flag. One objective. Simple. Deadly.
Arata crouched at the lip of the trench, eyes narrowing. It wasn't just about reaching the flag — it was about moving through a maze where every corner could hide a bullet.
Aya whimpered beside him. "Arata-kun… we'll die in there."
Sayaka crouched on his other side, calm as ever. "Not if we use the trenches right. Whoever controls information controls the battlefield."
Arata's faint smirk returned. "Exactly."
They moved into the trench.
The air was damp, suffocating. Bodies already lay slumped against the walls, riddled with holes. Blood pooled in the mud. The deeper they went, the more the group fractured.
Haruto kept snapping at anyone who fell behind.
Riku muttered constantly under his breath, eyes never leaving Arata.
Aya clung closer, trembling harder.
Ren skipped lightly over corpses, humming as she twirled her knife.
Sayaka walked steady, eyes sharp, calculating every step.
And Arata? He was silent. Watching. Listening.
The first ambush came fast.
Gunfire erupted from a side passage. Two participants from their battalion fell instantly, blood spraying across the trench walls. Panic surged. Screams. Chaos.
Arata didn't scream. He dropped flat, aimed, and fired three precise shots. The attackers fell silent.
When he rose, his group was staring at him again. Not with gratitude — but with something colder. Fear.
Riku's voice cut through the silence. "You're too calm. Too damn calm! How many people have you killed before this game, Arata?!"
Aya gasped. "Riku, stop—"
"No!" Riku's voice cracked. "Everyone's thinking it! He doesn't even flinch anymore! Look at him — he's not saving us, he's using us!"
All eyes turned to Arata.
Aya's pleading, Haruto's conflicted, Ren's amused, Sayaka's razor-sharp.
For a heartbeat, silence reigned.
Then Arata chuckled softly.
"You're right." His voice was calm, dangerous. "I am using you. Because unlike you, I intend to live."
Gasps. Aya froze. Haruto looked away. Riku's face twisted in rage.
Sayaka smirked faintly. "At least he's honest."
Ren laughed, clapping her hands. "Ahhh, finally! He drops the mask completely!"
Arata's eyes gleamed as he leaned closer to Riku, voice low.
"You can hate me all you want. But when the bullets fly, you'll hide behind me anyway."
The metallic voice returned.
"Warning: Betrayal detected.
If a participant kills an ally…
the killer inherits the victim's penalty."
The trenches went silent.
Paranoia bloomed instantly. Eyes darted. Whispers hissed. The fear wasn't just of the enemy anymore — it was of each other.
Arata smiled faintly. Perfect.
Because in paranoia… people became pawns.