Chapter 4: The Hour of Murder

**One Week Before Arrival on the Island**

— Aragi… are you sure you're going there alone? — Tsubasa's voice sounded like a final chance to rewrite the script before the ending credits rolled. — Better to think now than regret later. You know… eternity's a long time.

— I've already decided, — I replied, as if my decision mattered to the scriptwriter. — I won't deny that I'd need your help… But —

Here, I paused for dramatic effect, — I don't want to see your blood spilled before my eyes. Just wait. And hope.

That I can return from there victorious.

— Still, don't forget who else will be participating.

Our greatest enemy…

No, not even an enemy.

The enemy of all humanity.

This is our last chance to defeat the Creator. After that first battle, it's time to give this meaningless war meaning.

— Yeah… — I nodded, though she wasn't looking. — I won't let you down, Tsubasa.

After all… this is our final game. How could I possibly allow myself to lose?

— Did Ougi tell you about his position on the island?

— Mhm. The mansion's mistress will likely block magic… or something along those lines.

— So he'll relinquish his power… intentionally.

How noble. How foolish.

But the witch isn't stupid, you know? She understands you can't take what can't be taken.

This is their second game. And if she loses… again…

She'd sooner blow up the mansion than allow it.

— Remember, Aragi. In this game, you can only trust yourself.

Only yourself.

I know your bad habit — saving everyone and everything. But the stakes are too high.

— Yeah, I get it.

The lives of my friends.

The life of my world.

And… if I lose, I don't even want to imagine what that furious, busty vampire will do to me. Mentally, of course. Or physically. Or both.

— Tch…

Are you…

Are you comparing me to her?! That old hag who curses people?!

— Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha.

— I like it when you get mad. Over little things.

— I'll come back… — I declared with enough gravitas to fill an entire episode. — I promise.

— And one more thing…

*I love you in any weather.*

**Present Time — The Mansion**

— Did I really fall asleep that quickly… — I opened my eyes, as if it were necessary. The nap felt like an instant, though… no, it didn't matter.

— Did I wake you, Aragi?

— No, not at all. Just… a dream.

A vivid one.

Was I out long?

— About an hour. Not much. Sleep more if you want. I'll keep watch by the door.

After we split into rooms, I suggested a watch system — one stays awake while the others rest. Rotating shifts. Logical. Almost like a school project, except with the risk of death.

— Nah, I'm up.

You rest now.

— Where are you going? — Enua asked, suspiciously calm.

— The bathroom. Quick in and out.

— Alone? Want me to come?

— Don't worry. I'll be fast.

*Cue the spoiler.*

I stepped out. The kitchen light… was on?

The kitchen was nearby.

"Maybe Gerudo's still cleaning up," I thought.

Mistake.

I moved closer. Mistake #2.

Traces of blood.

A pool.

Splatters.

Writing on the walls — in a language even Satan might not understand.

Dishes soaked in blood.

And beside them…

…a body. Or what was left of it.

Gerudo.

Torn apart. Dismembered.

Throat — slit.

Eyes — gouged out.

Guts — well, let's just say too exposed.

— Wh-what the hell…

I swallowed. Though there was nothing to swallow.

— We need to tell the others!

First murder?

The witch?

So the game has begun?

I ran. Didn't matter how many meters. Didn't matter how many seconds. The door — BANG —into the wall.

— What's wrong, Aragi?! Were you attacked?!

— No. I'm fine. Call the others! Now!

— Already dialing. But what happened?

— First murder…

— Don't tell me… a participant?

— No. Worse.

Gerudo's dead.

After a brief and undramatic recap, everyone gathered in the living room.

— How are we supposed to take this?! — Yahweh sounded louder than usual. Shock, probably. — He wasn't even a participant!

— I don't get it either, — someone echoed. — Why him and not one of us?

— Doesn't matter now, — I said. — The priority is finding the culprit.

— And how do you plan to do that, Sherlock?

We're powerless, can't leave, and there's a damn storm outside.

— Let's start with who found the body first.

— That was me.

I woke up, went out, saw the kitchen light… thought I'd help.

And instead…

Found a meat puzzle where the chef should be.

— He told me immediately, — Enua added. — So we both have alibis. We were in the room the whole time.

— Can confirm, — someone nodded. — He never left.

And then — right on cue — a voice chimed in.

— Yes, yes, Enua has an alibi… if not for one "but"…

Kamiki.

With a smirk that deserved to be wiped off with a mop.

He'd clearly been waiting for this moment. Practiced for it like a graduation speech.

— You were asleep. Said so yourself — out for an hour.

Which means…

He could've left, killed, hid, returned…

Even cleaned up after himself.

— Right. How can he prove an alibi if you were asleep while he was supposedly nearby?

— You bastards…

I knew you'd pin this on me!

But I'll prove it. Oh, I'll prove it.

— How?

— Simple.

Severed limbs.

Kitchen knives can't do that. We have no access to magic — so it couldn't be me.

— He's right, — Yahweh nodded. — I saw the knives. All small. No axe.

— But what if there is an axe? — Kamiki interjected, as if savoring the dramatic pause. — On the second floor. In a glass case. I saw it.

— What?!

— Tiamut and I checked the house earlier. Stumbled on it.

Someone could've taken that axe and…

(This bastard… he planned even this?!)

— Then let's…

Go check.

If the axe is there — you're cleared. If not…

— Pff. Don't get your hopes up. I had nothing to do with it. First I'm hearing about an axe.