Chapter 3: Knife's Edge
The warehouse's neon 2♠ sign pulsed like a dying heart, casting a sickly green glow across the dust-choked air, the light flickering over rusted shelves and broken crates.
Kirito gripped his scavenged knife, its weight heavy and unfamiliar in his clammy hand, the blade's cold steel a grim reminder of the stakes.
His breath was shallow, the iron scent of fear sharp in his throat, his flirty veneer cracking under the weight of what lay ahead.
Usagi scanned the perimeter, her boots kicking up dust clouds that swirled like ghosts, her movements sharp and deliberate, her ponytail a dark streak in the neon haze.
Arisu stayed close, his charcoal-smudged fingers twitching nervously, his ragged breaths betraying his struggle to keep up.
A klaxon rattled the shelves, a harsh, grating sound that echoed through the vast space, signaling the start of the game: two chasers, one exit, survive three minutes.
Kirito's phone glowed with a blue escape route, a faint lifeline in the chaos.
[SYSTEM: PUZZLE EXECUTION: ESCAPE ROUTE (FREE)]
[ANALYSIS: ROUTE B (UPPER CATWALK) 95% SAFE. ROUTE A (FLOOR) 75% AMBUSH RISK.]
"Catwalks," Kirito hissed, his voice clipped, leaving no room for debate.
"No questions. Just move."
They darted across the warehouse floor, shelves looming like skeletal giants, their shadows twisting in the flickering neon.
A shadow moved—an NPC Survivor, grimy with sweat, his wild eyes glinting with survival-driven malice, wielding a heavy metal pipe that caught the light.
Usagi sprinted, drawing his attention, her ponytail whipping as she vaulted over a crate, her boots thudding against the concrete.
But a second chaser emerged from the shadows, cutting off Arisu, his pipe arcing lethally through the air, the motion swift and brutal.
Kirito froze, terror locking his limbs, his mind spiraling back to the Tag game.
"I can't. Karube's smile. I can't—"
The System's penalty stuttered through him, a full-body flinch that made his knees buckle.
Arisu stumbled, his back slamming against a crumbling wall, the pipe descending like a guillotine.
Kirito's mind screamed, Arisu's grief-stricken face from the closet flashing before him, a visceral jolt that broke through his paralysis.
"No!"
No SP remained for a Stamina Burst, but its muscle memory surged, raw adrenaline mimicking the cheat's power.
He lunged, his scream tearing through the warehouse, a raw, desperate sound that echoed off the rusted shelves.
The knife moved on instinct, plunging into the chaser's chest with a sickening, wet thud, the impact jarring Kirito's arm.
Blood sprayed, hot and iron-scented, splattering across his face, blinding him in a warm, sticky haze.
The survivor crumpled, the pipe clattering harmlessly to the ground, the sound swallowed by the warehouse's vastness.
The klaxon fell silent, the game won, the neon sign dimming to a dull flicker.
They stumbled through the now-open exit, Arisu half-dragging Kirito, whose vision was still blurred with blood, the iron scent suffocating in his throat.
In the dark alley beyond, Kirito slumped against a damp wall, the knife dripping onto the glowing ash swirls of the pavement, each drop a heavy, accusing weight.
His body shook, the reality of his first kill heavier than the blade itself, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Usagi checked Arisu, her voice steady, a stark contrast to Kirito's silent horror.
"Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine. Kirito…"
Arisu's voice cracked, his eyes fixed on Kirito's trembling form, the knife still clutched in his hand.
"He's not retreating, Arisu. He's in shock," Usagi said, stepping between them, her gaze hard but not accusatory.
"You saved him, Kirito. Deal with it. That's the Borderland. It's ugly, but it's done."
Her blunt comfort was a jolt, like cold water on a burn, necessary but jarring.
Kirito's throat constricted, his voice barely a whisper.
"I froze. Saw Karube. Then…"
He stared at the knife, the blood a horrifying red in the faint moonlight glinting off the wet pavement.
"I swore I wouldn't kill."
Arisu knelt beside him, his shaky hand finding Kirito's shoulder, his voice soft but firm.
"You killed a monster to save me. Chota said a small flame beats darkness."
He lit the lighter, its tiny glow a shared anchor in the darkness, its warmth cutting through the alley's chill.
Kirito exhaled shakily, the weight of the act still crushing but slightly lighter.
"Next time, non-lethal. I swear."
They returned to the derelict apartment, dawn's weak light filtering through the cracks, casting a pale yellow glow over the dust.
Kirito pulled up his phone, needing to reorient himself in the chaos.
[HOST: KIRITO - STATUS UPDATE. STRENGTH: 5. AGILITY: 6. STAMINA: 7.]
[SP: 70 (2♠ WIN REWARD).]
[ACTIVATING REROLL: 30 SP DOCKED. SP REMAINING: 40.]
[ANALYSIS: 4♦ (LOGIC) SAFEST OPTION. AVOIDING 3♥ (PSYCHOLOGICAL). REWARD: 40 SP.]
"4 of Diamonds. Logic game," Kirito announced, pointing to the map's new blue line.
"Arisu, this is you. No combat, just brains."
Arisu paled, his fingers tightening around the lighter.
"Diamonds… betrayal traps. I can't…"
[SYSTEM: WARNING: SP USAGE LOW. MORAL STRAIN: HIGH. RISK OF DEBUFF INCREASED.]
Kirito ignored the warning, his forced grin a weak shield.
"System's not a therapist."
"We're not NPCs, Arisu. We're the main characters. You're brains, Usagi's guard, I'm… good looks. Let's speedrun this."
His humor was strained, but it sparked a flicker of determination in Arisu's eyes, warming their faces in the dawn's pale light.
Their footsteps echoed toward the library arena, resolute, the promise of a logic game a fragile hope against the Borderland's relentless cruelty.
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