Part 221 Deep within a dark alley

As Mikoto stepped into the darkest corner of the alleyway, she noticed a foul smell—like fermented animal waste—growing stronger and stronger.

'Fff... fff... fff... fff...'

Rough breathing drew near. This was the kind of situation where a helpless girl from a movie would turn and run away in terror.

Of course, she wasn't some helpless girl from a movie—she walked straight toward the sound of the voice.

Seeing human mating firsthand wasn't her first time.

There had been a period when children, during nighttime outdoor gatherings, would toss firecrackers at adults swaying their hips in the dark. Thanks to that, the once-turbulent moral climate of Sakagahara had ironically been praised for being restored.

"Beautiful... so beautiful..."

"Stop... please, stop..."

But at that moment, Misato suddenly realized something strange.

— Men... together...?

At the same time, her heart gave a slight flutter. After all, she'd never seen something like this before.

What would it feel like?

Is it really true that men can have a womb for giving birth to children?

I remember seeing a scene like that in a manga of *One Piece* I once leafed through at a BookOff store—something with a slightly different art style than usual. Could it be something like that?

Moving cautiously, careful not to kick over the scattered bottles around me.

Though the darkness is so thick that even moonlight barely penetrates, I’m certain of my direction. I recall once being praised by my master for having night vision like a cat.

I reached a space covered by a blue tarp, and the smell grew stronger and stronger. This area seemed to be used by men for their carefree, lazy lives. Furniture—old leather sofas and the like—was scattered about haphazardly.

"Smells good. Like a rat stewed to a gooey mess... Come on, smell it yourself."

"U-uh... someone... please..."

Swallowing hard, he fixed his gaze on the wobbling shadow before him.

Clutching the knives in both hands tightly, he pursued the enemy’s back.

Pierce the back. Pierce the heart. Slash, slash, slash. The knives could be left behind.

Retrace his steps, wash the blood somewhere, and leave this place as originally planned.

If he had become a "player," that would be enough.

If not... well, that would be enough too.

"Come on... over here. Let's press our tongues together."

One of the men said this, assuming a crouching posture.

That was it! The very moment I thought so—

"Run! Get out of here!"

Clear and firm, the man shouted with unwavering resolve.

Realizing the voice was directed at him, Mei's feet came to an abrupt halt.

In the darkness, two eyes glowed a pale blue.

I know. This is definitely that thing called "Skill Assessment."

"You can't beat me as an ordinary person!"

I don't understand.

The situation.

Aren't you the weak one?

Weren't you the one being attacked?

Why is it that the one being attacked... is the one with the skill...?

That was when it happened.

Above Akihabara, a sharp burst of golden light flared into the sky. Miharu Ayame had no idea what it was, but it was a signal flare regularly fired to inform nearby refugees of the city's location.

"――!?"

Bathed in its glow, Ayame came to understand the true nature of the atrocities unfolding before her.

Two men.

One was a muscular, heavily built man.

He was likely the one who had been attacked.

The one who shouted at herself, "Run!"

And the one—greatly wounded in the left shoulder, barely alive.

The other was a tall, slender man.

Perhaps in his mid-twenties?

His eyes seemed unfocused, his mouth smeared with fresh blood.

There was no need to speculate—he was clearly the one who had been attacking.

The first creature beauty thought of was—“oni.” Or “vampire.” “Demon.” Various other monsters that only appear in stories, creatures that devour people.

Whether it was correct didn’t matter. There was no need to know.

『You… saw it…』

The thing… was bad. That much was clear. Instinctively understood.

“Run… run for your life…!”

The voice stopped there. Crimson blood erupted from the muscular "player's" throat, soundlessly.

"Gugha... g-go... ho... hah..."

For a moment, he couldn't fathom why this had happened, but it seemed he'd been slightly scratched by the long-limbed man's claw.

Just that one tiny wound was enough to finish off what was supposed to be an invincible "player."

He glanced back to check his escape route. To get out of the alley, he’d have to run dozens of meters through dark, cluttered terrain filled with obstacles.

Probably, that would be impossible. The closer he got to the alley’s entrance, the brighter the streetlights grew—giving his opponent a better chance to track his movements.

And then there was that force—so swift it had sliced through the “player’s” throat in an instant.

—This is bad. I’m going to be killed...

Paradoxically, a smile played on her lips.

—Then, before that....

"I'll kill you!"

It was this kind of thinking that set her apart from ordinary people.

To her, death and fear were not things to flee from—they were to be confronted.

Not something to turn your back on.