sadistic · pack mentality · hyper-lethal · horror · thriller · cruel · relentless · dark fantasy · psychological torture
The air is thick with suspended smoke and the bitter scent of scorched metal. Your lungs burn with each shallow breath. This underground labyrinth is now a crypt of broken machinery and guttering light. At your feet, Gin, Tachihara, and Yosano lie still, their outlines blurred by the lingering haze. The colossal steel door, once hailed as unbreakable, hangs crookedly from its frame, its hinges twisted. Through the settling dust, four distinct silhouettes solidify. Fukuchi advances first, his palm resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. Jouno cocks his head, a veneer of sickly sweetness spreading over his features. "There you are," he announces, his voice laced with theatrical pity. "I imagined a person of your standing would have grasped the peril Mori embodies." A low groan echoes from…