Corpse Classroom

(If everyone enjoys this Short story, i'll turn this into a series but for now it'll join the rest of the short story/one shots) (Update 2: I'm just gonna keep this as a short story)

The sharp morning air bit at his cheeks as he sprinted down the narrow street, his breath coming in short, frantic gasps.

"Crap, crap, crap… I'm gonna be late!" he muttered under his breath, his feet pounding against the pavement as he reached for his bike.

Fumbling with the lock, his fingers trembled with urgency. He yanked it free, swung a leg over, and pedaled with all his might, weaving through the early commuters like a man possessed.

The school gates loomed ahead, his salvation.

Just a little more—

The bell hasn't rung yet, right? He still had time.

Skidding to a stop, he barely had time to catch his breath before bolting toward the entrance. His heartbeat thudded in his ears as he climbed the stairs two at a time, his bag bouncing against his back.

"Fi... (pant)... nally..." he gasped as he stumbled into the hallway.

Then—

A sudden, deliberate foot shot out in front of him.

He barely had a moment to react before his body lurched forward. The world tilted. His books and papers flew from his bag, scattering across the floor as he crashed down hard on his hands and knees.

Snickers echoed around him.

"Jeez, Taku. You should really watch where you're going," a smooth, mocking voice drawled from above.

Takuya winced, looking up to see Taro Yamada standing over him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His uniform was crisp, not a hair out of place, exuding an effortless confidence that made him the golden boy of their class.

Beside him, Kurata Yuki gave a short, amused huff, arms crossed. "Maybe if you weren't such a mess all the time, this wouldn't happen."

Takuya swallowed hard, his hands curling into fists against the cold tile. His legs stung from the fall, but more than that—his pride ached.

He wanted to say something. To snap back. But the weight of the laughter around him, the dismissive sneers from his classmates, froze the words in his throat.

Taro clicked his tongue, bending down slightly. "What, cat got your tongue?" His voice was silky, dangerous. "C'mon, don't tell me you're gonna cry about it."

Kurata chuckled. "That'd be embarrassing."

Takuya clenched his jaw, forcing himself to gather his scattered papers with trembling fingers. The school bell rang, signaling the start of class.

Taro straightened, stretching lazily. "Hurry up, loser. Don't wanna be late, right?"

With that, the two sauntered off, their laughter lingering in the air.

Takuya sat there for a moment, staring at the mess in front of him, a tight knot forming in his chest.

He exhaled sharply, forcing down the sting in his eyes.

No. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

Slowly, he picked himself up.

One day, they wouldn't be laughing anymore.

Takuya's breath hitched as Kurata yanked him up by the collar, his feet barely touching the ground. His fingers clutched at Kurata's wrists, but the older boy's grip was like iron.

"You should've jumped that day we jumped you," Kurata sneered, his voice dripping with amusement. "Humiliating you in front of your crush was supposed to be the highlight… Hmm, what was her name again?"

Takuya flinched. He knew what was coming next. His muscles tensed, anticipating the blow.

Kurata's fist drew back—

"Put him down."

A voice cut through the tension like a blade.

Kurata paused mid-swing, his smirk faltering. Slowly, he turned his head toward the source of the interruption.

A girl stood a few feet away, dressed in dark gothic clothes. Black lace trailed down her sleeves, her skirt barely brushing her knees. The soft glow of the hallway lights cast eerie shadows on her pale face, making her sharp eyes stand out even more.

She was shaking. Just barely. But she stood her ground.

Kurata scoffed. "And what do we have here?" He loosened his grip just enough for Takuya to slip from his grasp.

Takuya hit the ground with a dull thud, pain exploding along his back. He sucked in a breath, his trembling hand instinctively flying to his cheek.

The girl took a step closer, her expression unreadable.

"You two," she said again, her voice firm despite the quiver in her hands. "Stop picking on Takuya already..."

Taro, who had been watching with a lazy smirk, chuckled. "Look at that, Kurata. The little freak's got a soft spot for him."

Kurata chuckled, rolling his shoulders as he took a slow step forward. "You got guts, I'll give you that." He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "But you should be careful who you stand up for."

The girl didn't move. She just kept her gaze locked on them, unwavering.

The hallway was silent.

Then—Kurata let out an exaggerated sigh. "Tch. Whatever. This ain't fun anymore." He shoved his hands into his pockets and shot one last glance at Takuya. "See you around, loser."

Taro chuckled, casting a smirk at the girl before following Kurata down the hallway. Their laughter echoed, fading as they turned the corner.

Takuya exhaled shakily, keeping his head down. His fingers curled into his sleeve, his chest tight. He hated this. The helplessness. The way his body refused to move, even when he wanted to fight back.

Then—

A small hand appeared in his vision.

He hesitated, staring at the outstretched fingers.

Slowly, he looked up.

The girl was still there, her face softer now. She wasn't smiling, but there was something in her expression that made the tightness in his chest ease just a little.

Takuya swallowed hard, blinking away the heat in his eyes, and reached for her hand.

Her grip was warm. Steady.

For the first time in a long while, he didn't feel completely alone.

Classroom 2-B was silent.

The usual morning chatter had died down the moment the teacher's footsteps echoed down the hall. Students hastily took their seats, straightening their uniforms, pretending they hadn't just been whispering or passing notes.

Takuya sat near the window, his eyes cast downward, still feeling the sting in his cheek. His fingers twitched as he recalled the girl's warm touch from earlier. A lifeline. A small moment of kindness in a place that suffocated him.

He stole a glance at her. She was seated a few rows ahead, her posture stiff, her hands resting neatly on her desk. She hadn't spoken to him since helping him up, but she didn't need to.

The door slid open.

A middle-aged man strode in, his expression stern as he adjusted his glasses. Mr. Hayashi, their homeroom teacher.

"Alright, settle down," he muttered, placing his lesson plan on the podium. His voice, monotonous as ever, was just another part of the daily routine. "We have a long day ahead, so let's begin—"

Then, it happened.

A sickening groan reverberated through the walls.

It started subtly—like the building itself was breathing, shifting. A low, unnatural creaking. At first, no one reacted. A few students exchanged confused glances, but no one spoke.

Until the windows darkened.

Not like clouds passing over the sun. Not like the dimming of evening light. It was as if the glass had been smeared with thick ink, swallowing every trace of daylight. The bright fluorescent bulbs overhead flickered once, twice—then shattered.

The room plunged into darkness.

Screams erupted. Chairs scraped against the floor. Someone knocked over a desk in their panic. The air grew heavy, thick with something rotten, something foul.

Then—

The door creaked open again.

Only, Mr. Hayashi hadn't touched it.

The teacher frowned, glancing toward the hallway. The corridor, once bustling with life, was empty.

Dead silence.

His brows furrowed. "Stay here," he ordered, though his voice was noticeably uneasy.

He stepped forward cautiously, his polished shoes tapping against the floor as he peered outside.

The school had changed.

The walls, once a dull beige, were now pulsing. Faint red veins ran through them like an infection spreading under skin. The posters on the bulletin board had decayed, their paper curling inward, ink bleeding into unrecognizable symbols.

And the smell—

Rot. Flesh. Blood.

Mr. Hayashi took a slow step out, his eyes scanning the corridor. "Hello?" His voice barely echoed, swallowed by the suffocating stillness.

Then, he saw it.

At the end of the hall, hunched over, was a figure.

Its back was turned to him. Its limbs were too long, too thin. Its skin was the color of rotting meat, stretched tight over jagged bones.

It twitched.

Mr. Hayashi's breath hitched. He took a step forward, throat dry. "Excuse me, are you—"

The creature snapped its head toward him.

Its face—or what should have been a face—was an empty void. A gaping hole, black and endless, from which something writhed.

Maggots. Hundreds of them, spilling from the abyss like a living tide, squirming, wriggling—hungry.

Mr. Hayashi stumbled back. "W-What the hell—?"

It lunged.

A wet, sickening squelch echoed down the hallway.

For a brief second, silence.

Then—

His head hit the floor with a dull thud.

His body remained standing, spasming, fingers twitching as if trying to grasp at something that was no longer there.

Blood spurted in violent bursts from his neck, splattering against the walls, pooling beneath his feet. His glasses landed a few inches away, cracked.

A second later, his body collapsed.

The students never even got the chance to scream.

Because the moment Mr. Hayashi's body hit the floor—

Something began knocking on the classroom door.

And it wasn't human.

The air was heavy with death.

Takuya could hear his own heartbeat hammering against his ribs. He wasn't the only one. The classroom was frozen, every student staring at the doorway where their teacher's headless corpse lay in a growing pool of crimson. The blood spread like grasping fingers, soaking into the cracks of the wooden floor.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The thing outside hadn't left.

The sound was deliberate. Rhythmic. Taunting.

Then—the door handle twisted.

That was when the panic set in.

"R-Run!" someone screamed.

Chairs scraped violently against the floor as students shoved past each other in blind terror. Desks toppled over. Papers scattered. Someone knocked over the teacher's podium, sending chalk dust into the air.

The girl in gothic clothing—the one who had helped Takuya earlier—reached for him again. But before their hands could touch—

A foot slammed into his back.

Takuya barely had time to gasp before he was sent sprawling face-first into the blood-soaked floor. His fingers slipped in the warm, sticky liquid, his chin striking the ground with a painful crack.

His ears rang. His vision blurred. But he heard them.

They had pushed him.

They used him as bait.

The panicked screams grew distant as the other students trampled over desks and bolted for the back exit.

Takuya tried to push himself up—his hands trembled, slipping against the congealing blood. His breath hitched when he heard the final click.

The door swung open.

The smell hit him first.

Rot. Death. Something worse.

Slowly—too slowly—Takuya turned his head.

The thing stood in the doorway, its long, skeletal frame bending unnaturally as it stepped inside. Its faceless void of a head twitched. The gaping hole where a face should have been pulsed with something writhing deep inside.

Then, it spoke.

Not with words. Not with a voice.

But with wet, slithering sounds—like something crawling just beneath the skin.

Takuya whimpered. His body refused to move.

The creature sniffed the air.

Its movements were jerky—like a marionette with its strings cut. Its head tilted, almost curious.

Then—

It lunged.

Takuya barely rolled out of the way before clawed fingers slammed into the floor where his head had been. The impact sent splinters flying into the air. The creature let out a gurgling, rattling hiss as it twisted toward him, its limbs cracking unnaturally.

Takuya scrambled backward, blood smearing his palms as he fought to stand. The classroom had gone silent.

The others were gone.

They left him.

They left him to die.

The creature's chest heaved. Its clawed fingers flexed, twitching.

And then—it lunged again.

This time, Takuya wasn't fast enough.

The impact sent him flying. His back slammed against the chalkboard, knocking the breath from his lungs. His ribs burned, a sharp pain stabbing into his side. He gasped, wheezing, stars bursting behind his eyes.

The creature didn't hesitate.

It moved with inhuman speed, closing the distance in seconds. Its long fingers wrapped around his throat.

Takuya gagged. His feet kicked uselessly, his nails clawing at the cold, unnatural flesh constricting his windpipe. His vision blurred, spots dancing in his eyes.

The creature tilted its head.

And then—it began to squeeze.

Bones cracked.

Takuya's body convulsed as the pressure increased, his airway nearly crushed. His ears rang, a high-pitched whine growing louder, drowning out everything.

His vision darkened.

Was this it? Was this how he was going to die?

Then—

Something shattered.

The creature jerked violently, its grip loosening just enough for Takuya to suck in a ragged breath.

Another crash.

And suddenly—arms were around him.

He barely registered the feeling of someone grabbing him, yanking him away from the monster's grasp.

"Run!" a voice screamed next to him.

The girl.

She had come back.

Takuya's body moved on instinct, his legs nearly giving out beneath him. His lungs burned, his throat raw, but he forced himself forward—running.

Behind them, the creature let out a sound that was neither human nor animal—a screech of pure, unnatural rage.

But they didn't look back.

They couldn't.

Because whatever this was—

It wasn't done with them yet.

The air was suffocating.

Takuya and the girl ran through the endless maze of twisting hallways, the once-familiar school building now a grotesque, shifting monstrosity. The walls bulged and pulsed as if alive, the fluorescent lights flickering violently overhead. The smell of blood, rot, and something unnatural filled the air.

Behind them, distant screams rang out—one after another.

Their classmates were dying.

They turned a corner, only to see a group of students ahead—four or five of them—gathered near what should have been the emergency exit. Relief flickered in their eyes as they spotted them.

"Takuya! Over here! The door—it won't budge!" One of the boys, Masaru, was banging his fists against the rusted metal door. "Help us force it open!"

But before they could reach them—

The ceiling split open.

A fleshy, gaping maw erupted from above, its jagged, needle-like teeth glistening with bile. The thing moved too fast, too sudden.

One of the girls, Aoi, barely had time to scream before the tendrils snatched her into the air. Her body convulsed, her limbs thrashing as she was yanked inside the gaping mouth.

CRUNCH.

Her torso was severed in half, blood raining down onto the floor below.

The remaining students stumbled back, their faces twisted in horror as Aoi's lower half collapsed to the floor, intestines spilling out like coiled ropes.

Masaru barely had time to react before something shot out from the darkened hallway behind them.

A long, skewer-like appendage impaled him through the throat, the tip bursting out through the back of his skull. His body twitched violently, hands reaching up to grasp at the spike before it ripped away, taking half his face with it.

The other students turned to run, but the hallway warped.

The walls twisted and stretched, the floor beneath them cracking open to reveal a bottomless abyss.

One boy lost his footing—Takashi.

His arms flailed, desperately trying to grab onto something—anything—before the ground beneath him gave way completely.

He let out a choked cry as he plummeted into the darkness.

For a brief moment, only his screams echoed from below.

Then—

A sickening, wet SPLAT.

His voice cut off instantly.

Takuya and the girl could do nothing but watch, their breaths ragged and shallow.

Their classmates were being picked off one by one.

Something was hunting them.

Something was toying with them.

"We—we have to keep moving," the girl stammered, her voice trembling. "We can't stop."

Takuya swallowed the bile rising in his throat and nodded.

They ran.

Another scream.

They turned a corner, only to find another student meeting their end.

A girl, Hitomi, was trapped in the tendrils of a grotesque, pulsating mass of flesh. Her arms and legs were being peeled apart like an insect caught in a web.

Her mouth opened to scream—but something else pushed its way out first.

A long, twisting limb—a parasitic growth—erupted from her throat, writhing and twitching violently.

Her eyes rolled back, her body convulsing as she was absorbed into the living wall, her flesh melting into the grotesque mass.

Her final moments were nothing but a series of horrific spasms before she was gone.

Takuya and the girl didn't dare to look back.

They ran faster.

The halls bled around them, the lights above shattering, casting them into near darkness.

The school was no longer a school.

It was a slaughterhouse.

And they were next.

The two had run deeper into the twisting, breathing hallways of the school, laughing breathlessly, convinced they had outpaced whatever monstrosity was lurking behind them.

"This place is a goddamn nightmare," Kurata panted, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Where the hell is the exit!?"

Taro leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. "Who cares? As long as that weakling Takuya gets ripped apart before we do." He smirked, but his voice shook.

Then, something shifted.

The wall behind Taro rippled like liquid.

A set of pale, human-like hands emerged, reaching out—silent. Grasping. Yearning.

Kurata's eyes widened. "Taro, behind you—"

Too late.

The hands exploded forward, seizing Taro's arms, legs, torso—every part of him.

He screamed as they dragged him into the wall, his body being squeezed and compressed like soft clay.

"Kurata! HELP ME!"

Kurata stumbled back, horror filling his face as Taro's torso caved inward, ribs snapping like dry twigs. His arms were ripped from their sockets, his flesh stretching like rubber before tearing completely.

POP.

His head was the last to go, his face frozen in a mask of absolute terror as it was crushed like an overripe fruit.

The wall absorbed him, leaving behind only a faint, bloody silhouette where he once stood.

Kurata staggered back, his mind blank with terror.

Taro was gone.

Gone as if he never existed.

Then—the whispering began.

It was soft at first, barely above a murmur.

Then it grew.

A chorus of voices, overlapping, distorting—until it wasn't human anymore.

Kurata turned, and his blood ran cold.

At the end of the hall stood a figure.

It had no face. No features.

Just a towering, skinless body, pulsating and wet.

Kurata tried to run.

But the floor melted beneath him.

His feet sank into the flesh-like mass, tendrils coiling around his ankles.

The ground itself was consuming him.

He thrashed and screamed, clawing at the walls, but they were soft and wet, giving under his fingers like rotting meat.

Then—

The tendrils dug into his stomach.

Kurata screamed as his flesh was peeled away, layer by layer.

He could see his insides now—his intestines, his ribs, his lungs trembling as they were exposed to the open air.

His bones snapped apart, his body peeling open like a dissected frog.

And then, something reached inside.

A hand.

It gripped his still-beating heart.

For one final, excruciating moment—Kurata felt everything.

Then—

SQUELCH.

The hand crushed his heart in its palm.

Darkness.

Their suffering was over.

But the school was still hungry.

And Takuya and the girl were still running.

Takuya's breath came in ragged gasps as he and the girl ducked into a darkened hallway. The air was thick, oppressive, the very walls throbbing like something alive. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else.

The girl—the only one who had helped him—was shaking beside him, her pale hands clutching the fabric of her black, gothic dress. She looked just as terrified as he felt.

Takuya swallowed, his voice hoarse. "Wh-What's your name?"

She hesitated before whispering, "Hana."

Before he could respond, a scream—bloodcurdling, wretched—cut through the air.

It wasn't close.

But it wouldn't be long before it was.

They had to move.

Yet, as they turned the corner, Takuya couldn't help but feel that something was watching.

And waiting.

Elsewhere in the school, the surviving students had stumbled into a hidden faculty room—an old storage space littered with rusting desks and forgotten books.

"There's no way out," one of them—a boy named Daichi—hissed, his voice laced with panic.

A girl, Misaki, gripped her arms tightly, rocking back and forth. "We just need to wait. Someone will come for us…"

The others said nothing.

Because deep down, they all knew—

No one was coming.

Then… the lights flickered.

And the door—creaked open.

Something stepped inside.

It wasn't human.

It was tall, emaciated, with stretched, leathery skin clinging to jagged bones. Its head was an elongated skull, devoid of features except for a gaping, vertical mouth that split down its face, lined with rows of uneven, rusted teeth.

A putrid gargling sound escaped its throat.

Then—

It moved.

Faster than anyone could react.

Its arm—long, with clawed fingers—lashed out, gripping Daichi by the face.

CRUNCH.

The boy's skull caved inward, his eyes bulging grotesquely before bursting.

His body convulsed, blood gushing from his ears, nose, and mouth before the monster ripped his head clean off, tossing it aside like garbage.

Screams filled the air.

Misaki tried to run, but the creature's other hand shot out—

SHLCK.

A bone spike erupted from her stomach, spearing her against the wall.

She gasped, her mouth working silently as her intestines slid down the length of the spike.

The creature twisted.

Her body was ripped in half, her upper torso splitting from her lower half, spilling her organs across the floor in a steaming heap.

Two more students tried to escape through the doorway, but the hallway had changed.

The walls had become mouths—dozens upon dozens of fanged maws, grinning and waiting.

The first student—a boy named Shun—made the mistake of stepping forward.

The walls lunged.

They tore into him from all sides, devouring his flesh in great, wet chunks.

His screams gurgled into nothing as his lower half collapsed, his upper body now a mutilated, twitching pile of meat.

The last student—a girl named Emiko—collapsed in horror.

Her hands trembled violently, her mouth opening in silent hysteria.

She didn't even notice as the creature crouched in front of her, watching.

Then, slowly, deliberately—

It reached into her mouth.

Her breath hitched as its fingers slid past her teeth, down her throat.

Then—

It pulled.

Her entire esophagus, her trachea, and part of her spine were ripped from her body in one, horrifying motion.

Her body collapsed, a ragged, gaping hole where her throat once was, blood spraying across the ceiling like a grotesque fountain.

The creature stood amongst the carnage, satisfied.

The hunt was not over.

And it still had two more victims to find.

Meanwhile, Takuya and Hana ran.

They had no idea the others were already dead.

They had no idea they were next.

And as the school shifted once more, closing in like a living thing, there was only one certainty left—

There was no escape.

Takuya and Hana pressed themselves against the cold, pulsating wall, struggling to breathe through the nausea.

The air was thick with the stench of blood and ruptured organs, a hot, metallic rot that clung to their throats.

Beyond the shattered remnants of the storage room, the entity was feasting.

Its grotesque, elongated body was hunched over the pile of corpses, its jaw unhinged to an unnatural degree, gnawing through flesh and bone like wet paper.

Squelch.

Crunch.

It ripped through Shun's remains, slurping up strands of his intestines like noodles, blood dripping down its throat in thick, black rivulets.

Hana gagged, clamping a hand over her mouth.

Takuya felt his stomach twist violently as he watched the creature shove its clawed fingers into Daichi's decapitated head, scooping out his brain like pudding.

The entity's throat bulged obscenely as it swallowed, a grotesque gurgle escaping its split-mouth.

Then—

It shivered.

The wounds on its decayed body began to heal, fresh muscle knitting over exposed bone. The flesh of the students became part of it.

Their suffering—its strength.

Takuya wanted to run.

But his legs refused to move.

Because then—

Misaki's torn, upper half twitched.

A wheezing, gurgling sound escaped from her blood-choked throat.

Her eyes—clouded, lifeless—shifted toward them.

Her lips parted, whispering a final breathless plea.

"…help…"

Takuya felt his chest seize.

No. No, no, no.

She was dead.

She had been ripped apart.

And yet—

She was still moving.

Then—her jaw snapped open.

Wider.

Wider.

Until the skin at the corners of her mouth split apart—her teeth jagged and rotting, her tongue swollen and black.

Hana screamed.

The entity's head snapped up.

The moment their eyes met—

It moved.

A wet, screeching howl tore through the school as the entity lunged forward, the ground beneath it pulsating as it gave chase.

Takuya grabbed Hana's wrist and ran.

The hallway was twisting.

The walls melted into writhing, organic masses, covered in gnashing, layered teeth that clacked hungrily as they passed.

The ground was slick with bile and viscera, making every step a fight against slipping into the putrid abyss.

Behind them—

The entity was closing in.

Takuya could hear it, slithering, crawling—its claws scraping against the walls as it tore through the shifting corridors.

Hana sobbed in terror, stumbling, her breath coming in broken, panicked gasps.

"I—I can't! I can't—"

Takuya yanked her forward. "Keep moving!"

Ahead, the hallway opened into the gym.

A massive, cavernous space.

If they could just—

SLAM.

The doors slammed shut before they could reach them.

The walls quivered.

The ceiling split open like rotting flesh, revealing a gaping, circular maw.

Inside, something was moving.

Squirming.

Waiting.

Hana let out a broken sob. "Takuya… we're trapped."

Takuya turned.

The entity had arrived.

Its slit-mouth stretched into an unnatural, distorted grin, jagged teeth glistening.

The air reeked of the dead.

Then—

It spoke.

A voice that was not its own.

A chorus of voices, layered, mismatched—

The voices of their dead classmates.

"…run, little ones."

"…let's play."

Takuya felt his blood turn to ice.

And then—

It lunged.

Takuya and Hana sprinted toward the exit, their feet slamming against the wet, fleshy floor.

The double doors loomed ahead, the only chance to escape this nightmare.

But—

They moved.

The entire wall shifted, the doors melting away like wax, replaced by a writhing mass of veins and pulsing muscle.

"No! No, no, no!" Hana screamed, slamming her fists against the shifting surface.

Takuya turned—

The entity was there.

Towering. Grinning. Starving.

Its elongated arms dragged across the floor, each claw dripping with blackened blood.

Something dangled from its mouth.

Takuya's breath hitched.

It was Kurata's half-eaten corpse.

The entity's jagged teeth clamped down, crunching through his skull with a sickening squelch.

Blood. Brain matter. Shards of bone.

All of it splattered onto the ground.

Hana vomited.

Takuya froze.

The entity swallowed.

And then—

It lunged.

Takuya grabbed Hana's wrist and jerked her back just as the entity's claw slashed through the air, tearing through the wall like wet paper.

The floor beneath them rippled and pulsed, a sickening slosh of flesh and sinew shifting beneath their feet.

A hallway opened.

A trap?

It didn't matter.

They ran.

The walls screeched, twisting and closing behind them like a throat swallowing prey.

The air was thick with rot, the sound of muffled screams echoing from somewhere deep inside the walls.

Their classmates.

Still suffering.

Still alive.

For a moment, Hana stumbled, her foot catching on something—

A severed hand.

Still twitching.

She let out a shattered sob and kept running, her breath coming in ragged, panicked gasps.

Then—

A sharp, wet sound.

Like flesh splitting apart.

Takuya turned just in time to see—

A gaping wound tear across Hana's side.

Her ribs cracked open, her organs spilling out in a steaming heap, blood splattering across the walls.

She let out a wet, choking gasp.

Takuya screamed.

"HANA!"

Her eyes widened, her lips trembling—

Then—

The entity's tendrils wrapped around her neck.

And ripped her head clean off.

Blood fountained from her open throat, her body convulsing violently before it collapsed into the growing pool of gore.

Takuya stumbled back, his mind fracturing.

No.

No, no, no—

This wasn't real.

This couldn't be real.

But the warmth of her blood soaking his skin told him otherwise.

The entity tilted its head, bringing Hana's severed head to its mouth.

Then—

It bit down.

A loud, wet crunch.

And she was gone.

Takuya felt his legs give out.

His vision blurred.

This was it.

He was next.

Then—

The floor beneath him cracked open.

And he fell.

Into the abyss.

Takuya plummeted.

Darkness swallowed him whole, the screams of the dying fading into an empty, suffocating silence.

Then—

Impact.

His body crashed onto something wet and soft.

Not ground.

Not stone.

Something alive.

His hands pressed into it, sinking slightly, and a shuddering pulse ran through the floor beneath him.

It was breathing.

Takuya gagged, shoving himself upright, his body trembling. His arms and legs burned from the fall, but pain was nothing compared to the ache in his chest.

"Hana…"

His voice broke, a cracked whisper lost in the abyss.

She was gone.

They were all gone.

His classmates, his tormentors—everyone had died in agony.

And he had run.

Like a coward.

A pathetic, useless coward.

Tears slipped down his face, mixing with the blood smeared across his cheeks. His sobs were silent, the weight of grief choking him.

Then—

A sound.

A slow, wet squelch.

Footsteps.

Something was here.

Takuya's breath hitched, his heart hammering against his ribs.

The darkness around him shifted, shadows parting as a figure emerged.

It was tall—too tall, its limbs unnaturally thin, elongated.

Its skin was wrong, like stretched, rotting leather, covered in veins that pulsed with some thick, inky fluid.

Its eyes—

There were too many.

Glowing, empty sockets stared into him, piercing through his broken soul.

Then, it spoke.

Not with words.

But with whispers.

A thousand voices, echoing from the abyss, overlapping, crawling into his skull.

"You... survived."

Takuya's body locked up.

"Why?"

"Why did you live?"

"Why did she die?"

A violent shudder ran through him.

Because he ran.

Because he was weak.

Because he was nothing.

The figure moved closer, its breath reeked of rot and blood.

"You should not exist."

It reached out.

Long, bony fingers grazed his cheek, cold and damp, pressing against his tear-stained skin.

"Would you like to join her?"

Takuya's breath came in ragged, uneven gasps.

He wanted to say yes.

He wanted it to be over.

But—

A memory flashed.

Hana's fear.

Her screams.

Her death.

And suddenly—

He wasn't crying anymore.

His fingers curled into fists.

His chest tightened.

And for the first time since this nightmare began—

Takuya felt something else.

Rage.

Takuya's breath hitched as the entity loomed over him, its abyssal eyes boring into his soul.

Its elongated fingers tightened around his face, pressing into his skin, the stench of decay suffocating him.

"You do not belong here."

The voices slithered into his mind, coiling like parasites, each syllable scraping against his sanity.

"But I can fix that."

The entity's grip tightened.

Takuya's vision blurred, his head throbbing with pressure. It was trying to erase him, to unmake him.

But he wouldn't let it.

Not anymore.

His body shook, not from fear—but from something deeper, something boiling in his veins.

Takuya's hands shot up, fingers digging into the entity's wrist.

Its skin was slick, cold, unnatural. But he held on, his nails sinking into its flesh.

"You should not be."

The entity's voice splintered, growing more distorted, more suffocating.

"You are wrong."

Takuya's teeth clenched.

He didn't care what it was saying.

He didn't care what he was supposed to be.

He was still here.

And that meant something.

With a sudden, violent jerk, he ripped himself free, staggering backward as the entity lurched.

Its body tilted, its grotesque form wavering.

The abyss beneath them quivered, like it was… watching.

Waiting.

Takuya took another step back.

The entity stilled.

Then—

The floor ruptured.

A massive gash tore open beneath the creature, the abyss gaping wide like a monstrous, insatiable maw.

The entity's eyes flickered in realization.

It was falling.

It let out a sound—something between a scream and a gurgling wail—as its elongated limbs thrashed, its inky veins bulging.

It reached out—desperate.

Takuya didn't move.

He just watched.

Watched as the abyss claimed the monster the same way it had claimed everyone else.

The entity's body collapsed inward, pulled downward into the endless, pulsating void.

Its many eyes locked onto him one final time.

"This... is not over."

And then—

It was gone.

Swallowed whole.

The abyss sealed shut.

Silence.

Takuya stood there, trembling, panting.

His legs buckled.

His vision blurred.

His body felt like nothing.

He was alone.

Truly, utterly alone.

And yet—

He was still alive.

For better or for worse.

Takuya's feet dragged across the ground as he moved forward, each step slow, unsteady. His body felt hollow, drained, like the life had been bled from his bones.

But then—

He saw it.

A door.

A single, battered metal door standing at the end of the abyssal void.

It was wrong—there was no reason for it to be there. And yet, it stood, waiting.

Takuya didn't care.

He had nothing left.

No friends. No enemies. No future.

Only this.

His hand trembled as he reached out, gripping the cold, rusted handle—

And pulled.

The sky was an ashen gray, the air thick with the stench of rot.

The school was gone, replaced by a vast, endless wasteland of flesh and bone.

Takuya staggered forward, his breath ragged, his mind fractured.

He was free.

Or so he thought.

Then—

A sound.

A slow, deep crack.

Like the world itself was splitting apart.

Takuya's body seized up.

Something was behind him.

Something big.

The air grew heavy, pressing down on his chest like a vise.

He turned—

And saw it.

The entity hadn't fallen.

It had changed.

It was no longer the twisted, humanoid figure he had faced before.

It was now a monstrous, eldritch mass, a writhing, towering colossus of bone, sinew, and seething black tendrils.

Eyes upon eyes upon eyes—

Staring.

Mouths splitting open across its grotesque body—

Grinning.

And then—

It moved.

A tendril lashed forward, wrapping around Takuya's waist before he could react.

It squeezed.

His ribs snapped like twigs, jagged bone piercing through his flesh.

Blood burst from his mouth, a wet, choking gasp ripping from his throat.

He tried to scream, but the pain was all-consuming.

The entity lifted him, dangling him above the abyss like an insect caught in a web.

Takuya's vision blurred.

His body was breaking.

The mouths across the entity's body opened wider.

Rows of needle-like teeth gnashed, eager, hungry.

Then—

It bit down.

Takuya's torso was torn in half in an instant.

His lower body dropped to the ground, intestines spilling onto the cold earth, steam rising from the gory mess.

His upper half hung limply, his blood dripping into the abyss below.

But he was still alive.

Still aware.

He could feel his lungs struggling, his vision fading.

He saw his own guts hanging, his body violated beyond recognition.

And yet, the entity wasn't done.

A new mouth opened on one of its tendrils—long, vertical, jagged.

And it devoured his head in one bite.

Takuya's final moments were nothing but darkness and agony.

The world was quiet again.

The entity stood motionless, its grotesque form shrouded by the endless abyss.

The blood of its victims had long coagulated, their broken bodies reduced to nothingness.

There were no more screams.

No more pleas for mercy.

Only the void remained.

And then—

It spoke.

Not in words.

Not in whispers.

But in a final, absolute truth that seeped into the fabric of reality itself.

"There was never an escape."

"There was never salvation."

"There was only this."

"And there will always be this."

As the last remnants of the school, the students, and the very concept of hope crumbled into the abyss, the entity simply watched.

Unmoving.

Unfeeling.

Eternal.

And so, the nightmare ended.

Not because it was over.

But because there was no one left to suffer.

THE END.