Between Hell and Heaven 11

Whis' POV

The tall grass blocked my view, but I didn't hesitate—I shifted my position to the tree above, climbing swiftly with practiced ease. From this vantage point, I saw it unfold.

Just in time.

Albert had arrived, late, reckless as always. And standing opposite him—Lloyd.

Poor fool.

Against Lloyd, Albert Yamada didn't stand a chance. The outcome was already written. I didn't need to intervene. Instead, I pulled out the camera Sienna had provided. She'd given me one job—observe, document, report. And maybe, if the opportunity allowed, tamper with reality.

Lloyd moved in without hesitation, his strikes were swift, efficient. He disarmed Albert before he could do more than tremble. A flurry of well-placed blows followed, hitting pressure points with surgical precision. It was brutal, but controlled. Enough to neutralize Albert, but not enough to kill. And yet, even though Lloyd had prevented Albert from stabbing himself, the violence... the speed... all of it would be damning under the school's code.

Expulsion-worthy. Especially with the right footage—and a bit of editing magic.

Albert collapsed, gasping for air, face contorted in pain, chest heaving under the weight of Lloyd's onslaught. I adjusted my lens for one last frame—perfection.

Then I heard it.

A creak. Behind me.

Loud enough to make the hairs on my neck rise.

I turned, heart skipping, rain stinging my face. A shadow stood there—unmoving, as though carved from the darkness itself. The downpour outlined its shape, the figure shrouded but alert.

I narrowed my eyes and prepared to confront him—but he bolted.

Just like that, gone. A blur tearing through the woods at an inhuman pace.

II didn't wait to identify him.

I leapt from the tree and gave chase.

He bolted through the woods like a phantom. Fast. Too fast. He ducked through branches, vaulted over roots—silent, like he knew the forest better than he should.

We reached the river.

He didn't hesitate.

One leap—inhuman in distance—and he was gone, vanishing into the trees on the far side.

I skidded to a stop at the riverbank, eyes wide.

That kind of movement… that wasn't normal.

That wasn't even human. Whatever Lloyd was doing now didn't matter—I had my footage. But this figure… something was off. He ran as if he had something to hide. Could he have seen what I was recording? No—visibility was poor, the maize was thick. There's no way he knew. And yet, he ran.

Only one possibility flickered in my mind, uninvited yet insistent.

Could it be... him?

I let the thought linger.

No point dismissing what I already feared.

I turned and began heading back toward the Class D camp, boots sloshing through soaked grass, heart beating slower now but still aware. Still calculating.

"There's a new variable on this island," I murmured to myself. "But he doesn't have anything to use against me… unless he knows I wasn't in camp tonight."

If that's the case, there's only one person that fits the profile—Ayanokoji.

"There's an unknown variable on this island… but he has nothing concrete to use against me. The only thing he might have noticed is my absence from Class D's camp. If so, the likeliest suspect is Ayanokoji. He fits the profile—inhumanly fast, even slightly outpacing me unless he was holding back. He's cautious around me… likely because I know too much about his origins. Is he trying to get me expelled? Possible. But how? He's desperate—searching for a crack in the armor. Still... he wouldn't act unless he saw a clear path. Which means he might already think he's found one."

He ran toward Class C's route deliberately.

Trying to throw me off?

I smirked.

Nice try.

I raked my fingers through my damp hair, the rain washing away the dirt smeared on my face. It cooled my skin but did little for the heat building in my chest.

"Well then," I whispered. "Shall I return to camp?"

---

Ayanokoji's POV

My pace slowed as I veered off the path, redirecting toward Class D's camp. Let him assume whatever he wants. As long as he's guessing, I'm winning.

But I couldn't rule out the possibility that he'd seen through it instantly. Whis wasn't an idiot. He was many things—cold, manipulative, a professional schemer—but never careless.

I stopped by the edge of the trail, pulled a memory card from my pocket, and stared at it.

The message on the paper had been clear enough:

> "There are nuisances in Class D and C. Trouble is heading your way. I figured you're facing the same. Someone's framing one of your students."

Cryptic. But obvious.

It confirmed what I'd suspected for days—Whis was one of the individuals attempting to probe my origins. Trying to force a reaction. The girl who passed me the note—her claim that Kanzaki was behind her movements wasn't necessarily a lie. She was probably a puppet, used to provoke situations like the confrontation on Day 5. The real mastermind had stayed hidden... until now.

Whis had exposed himself.

He's clever, yes—but not untouchable. And someone in Class C, possibly this "Nero," might be pulling even more strings behind him. Framing Lloyd. Involving Albert. Sowing confusion.

The visibility had been poor, but I'd recognized the silver-haired boy from Kanzaki's class—Lloyd. Why frame him? And why involve Albert?

Something deeper was brewing.

I zipped up my jersey. The chill was growing stronger now, the rain falling heavier.

If my hunch was correct, this memory card could end all of it.

---

Class D Camp — 4:35 AM

Ayanokoji's POV

Class D was suffering.

Students were huddled beneath the large boulder that served as makeshift shelter. Rain soaked their clothes, their spirits. Some shivered in silence while others worked through the discomfort—gathering wood, managing supplies.

Whis sat alone.

His spot was isolated, yet strategic. His gaze drifted across camp lazily, but I saw the way his hand gripped the bag beside him. That's where the camera was.

He hadn't let go of it once.

I passed him slowly, and as expected, tension radiated off him like heat. He flicked his eyes toward me, briefly, calculating. Then looked away.

Hirata arrived moments later, rallying some students for a strategy meeting.

"Whis," he called. "We're discussing the last day's outcome. You joining?"

Whis waved him off. "Nah. I'm cool. Just chilling here."

Exactly as I hoped.

I slipped into one of the boy's tents—Hirata's, specifically—and quietly removed the exam manual. Packed with rules, details, and loopholes.

Everything I needed to start what came next.

---

Third Person POV

Hirata rubbed his forehead. Fatigue tugged at his features. Yukimiya was still going over the score projections—bleak as always. They were likely to fall behind.

That's when Soshi Miyamoto came running, panic written all over his face.

"The boy's tent—it's on fire!"

Everyone froze.

Sudo's voice cracked through the silence. "What the hell are you saying!?"

Smoke coiled into the sky from the boys' side of camp. Panic bloomed fast.

"W-we gotta do something!" Sudo stammered.

"Everyone—grab water containers!" Hirata commanded. "River's nearby!"

Ike and Yamauchi sprinted off, makeshift buckets in hand. Others followed. Yukimura barked directions while dashing ahead.

"We're lucky it rained," he said. "If it hadn't, this whole forest would've gone up in flames."

Kei muttered, "Who'd start a fire like this? It wasn't Ibuki—she left long ago."

No answers. Only chaos.

Hirata turned sharply to Whis, still seated by his bag.

"You gonna help, Whis!? We need all hands!"

Whis hesitated.

Mind racing. Then, "I apologize. Where do you need me?"

"Just follow them! Small or not, a fire's a fire!"

Whis gave a sharp nod and bolted, finally releasing his bag.

In minutes, water and mud doused the flame. Students coughed and cursed, drenched and shivering. But the worst was over.

"Still burning here!" Kei called.

"Move," came a deadpan voice.

Ayanokoji emerged, bucket in hand. He dumped it, extinguishing the final ember.

Whis froze.

His heart skipped.

The bag.

He sprinted back toward camp, dread clawing at his chest.

The bag was where he left it. Unmoved. Untouched.

Or so it seemed.

He yanked it open and checked the camera. There—two memory card slots.

He'd only inserted one.

But now there were two.

His lips curled into a triumphant smirk. He slid the second card out and raised it into the pale light.

Behind him, Ayanokoji stood motionless.

Eyes dead. Aura cold.

"You really thought I wouldn't notice?" Whis said, snapping the card in half with a sharp crack. "Your little stunt failed, Ayanokoji-kun."

The crunch of plastic echoed between them.

"This is my victory. My masterpiece."

Ayanokoji said nothing.

He simply turned, walked away, disappearing into the settling fog as Class D reassembled, murmuring in confusion and unease.

Whis smiled wider.

He slid the camera back into the bag, sealing the compartment.

The war had just begun. And in his eyes—

He'd already won the battle... But what about the war?