“Cough, cough— Everyone, if Niya-chan had to sum up how she’s feeling right now in one sentence, it would be: that declaration from DEATH LORD just now wasn’t just ‘cool’! It was basically a full-on public love confession to the Witch level—do you get it?”
“Saying something like that right in front of the entire school, bold and domineering! Niya-chan… is totally smitten too!”
The voice coming through the speakers sounded like someone had squeezed a clump of overheated cotton candy out of their throat—sickeningly sweet and impossibly sticky.
I was still in full-dive, listening to this “live emotional guidance,” yet the only thing running through my head was a painfully realistic internal complaint: Where exactly do you people think you’re putting the guy who almost got sent packing by JUSTICE PIKE?!
Sure, I had to admit Ameno Yotsuba had helped me out, and I couldn’t deny it or refuse to be grateful… but the problem was he had helped in the most over-the-top way possible!
That “I’m here to save you” energy could be called a heroic entrance if you were feeling generous, but if you were being honest it was more like tossing me straight into the school-wide spotlight furnace for roasting.
The embarrassment was so bad I actually considered filing a system request for a forced logout.
In the center of the stage, the black-armored figure stood like a patch of night that could swallow light whole.
Ameno Yotsuba’s gaze flicked over me once.
Inside the narrow slit of his black helmet, that red glow seemed to curve slightly—if that could even be called a “smile.”
Then he slowly lowered the black sword with its swirling mist and pulsing red blood groove, the motion declaring “judgment concluded.”
On the other side, Xieyi Mayne finally recovered a scrap of KINGly dignity after being crushed to the point she could barely breathe.
She didn’t counterattack immediately.
She simply lifted the tip of her lance a fraction, as if using that last bit of posture to prove she hadn’t fallen yet.
In the end, DEATH LORD spoke first.
His voice was deep, like iron dropping into a well.
“I want to make a deal with you, JUSTICE PIKE.”
The voice carried the low, resonant echo unique to undead classes, rebounding from the depths of a tomb with an inescapable pressure.
“After the battle ends, come to the café in W8 district,” he said calmly, as if issuing a decree.
“I have a deal to discuss with you—a transaction between a new king and an old king.”
Mayne’s eyelashes trembled.
Her voice remained icy, but that ice now carried a hint of reluctance she clearly didn’t want to admit.
“You want to make a deal with me?”
She seemed about to fall back on some “rule” to protect her position, only to realize the person standing in front of her had never treated rules as a shield.
“This doesn’t follow… the agreement between new kings and old kings.”
“Agreement?”
Ameno Yotsuba sounded like he had heard an outdated joke.
He raised a hand and flicked the bothersome cloak that had drifted across his chest behind him, his tone flat to the point of ruthlessness.
“I was abandoned by BHAO long ago. I’m someone who exists outside the rules.”
The meaning of those words was clearly “I am unbound,” yet it somehow sounded more like “I got bored of your system ages ago.”
Sometimes this guy’s arrogance gave me a dangerously sympathetic rush—that contradictory feeling of I really hate him, but damn if it doesn’t feel good to watch.
Humans really were troublesome creatures.
“As for whether you’re willing to make this deal,” he gave his sword a light twist, black mist coiling around the blade like breathing, “you can think it over carefully. I’ll wait two hours, JUSTICE PIKE.”
With that, he turned his back, treating Mayne, the arena, and every single gaze here as “already concluded business.”
In the brief silence that followed, PROGRAM TAMPER—Kiyama Yune—raised her hand.
Her motion was light, like brushing aside a surface of water.
Her fingertip traced through the air, and space tore open like it had been sliced by some forbidden permission.
A blue tunnel unfolded in a way that “should not have been possible,” its edges flickering with fine noise and data fragments, as if the entire BHAO KNOCKOUT had just been mocked in the simplest and most infuriating way.
This was PROGRAM TAMPER—someone who, inside BHAO, might as well have the system admin key tucked in her pocket.
Then a low horn sounded from deep inside the tunnel. It wasn’t a sound that could exist in reality; it was more like the rallying call of an ancient battlefield.
The undead legion turned in perfect unison.
Death Knights’ iron boots rang out in synchronized thunder across the racetrack.
Death Mages’ cloaks billowed like black tides in the wind.
The Death Frost Dragon let out a draconic roar cold enough to freeze spines, and ice mist fell like a curtain, covering most of the central stage.
DEATH LORD gave Xieyi Mayne one final glance. The look wasn’t a threat so much as a last chance to choose dignity.
Then he turned and stepped into the tunnel with the entire undead tsunami behind him.
PROGRAM TAMPER followed right after.
In the next instant the blue data-square tunnel snapped shut like a book slamming closed.
The tunnel vanished cleanly—cleanly enough that I almost wondered if the massive spectacle had been an illusion.
As if the entire school of thousands had just shared a collective dream called “Undead Dynasty Invades Campus.”
But the moment the dream ended, reality filled in its usual noise: the spectator stands fell into one second of dead silence, then exploded like a lit fuse.
Cheers crashed over me in waves, the heat threatening to roast the person at the center of it all.
“Night Witch—!”
“Nameless Warrior—!”
“The Witch is so cute—!”
…Wait, why did the word “cute” always hit me with sniper precision at the exact moment I least needed it?
What exactly had I done wrong to be turned into the school mascot at a time like this?
What surprised me even more was that after a brief pause, Mayne’s posture finally loosened a little.
Her lance lowered slowly. She didn’t look at me—or rather, she did, but the look felt more like she was staring through a shadow that had already left.
Then her character actions triggered what looked like an “automatic surrender,” golden particles scattering from her body like an overly graceful exit.
Niya-chan seized the moment immediately, her voice cracking with excitement.
“All right—announcing the result! The winner of this BHAO KNOCKOUT Reward Match is—UNKNOWN NAME WARRIOR! In other words—the Night Witch!”
In that moment applause surged toward me like a tidal wave.
All I wanted was to wedge myself into a crack in the floor, for one very simple reason: I was terrible at being watched, especially by the entire school using “hero” or “idol” eyes.
It gave me a strong sense of dislocation—I had only wanted to survive at Blue Sea Academy, so why did even “surviving” have to be turned into a celebration?
The logout prompt sounded in my ear.
The world rapidly lost color.
The next second I was back inside the full-dive room prepared by Blue Sea Academy for contestants.
My first reaction wasn’t relief.
It was the instinctive press of my ice-cold hands against my cheeks—partly to ground myself back in reality faster, partly to push down the heart that had just been shoved to the edge of a cliff.
After all, no matter what I thought of Xieyi Mayne, I had at least fought a real KING.
Even if the ending felt more like being forcibly rescued, at least—I really had touched the possibility of “taking her down.”
As long as she hadn’t used that LAST SKILL… of course, that sentence was as meaningless as “I won’t get wet if I make it home before it rains.” Reality had never run on my expectations.
But when I lifted my head and naturally turned my gaze toward the main stage area, my mouth let out an involuntary “Eh…”
Because through the glass I could clearly see the scene outside—more eyes, more people, more heads crowding the full-dive room entrance like a tide.
It wasn’t everyone, but the vast majority of the gazes were aimed this way.
The “you’re the protagonist today” stares left me completely at a loss, like a socially anxious person who had just been called up on stage to give a speech.
At the same time Niya-chan’s broadcast continued, even adding extra drama for me: “It’s—over! Thank you to UNKNOWN NAME… er, I mean the Night Witch for bringing us such an amazing KING Reward Match—this is the first time since President Mayne became KING that we’ve seen her use her LAST SKILL! A match this spectacular would have been a highlight even in the finals!”
The audience cheers leaked through the glass cracks too:
“Night Witch, you were amazing!”
“The Night Witch is so cute—why does she have to use that shut-in AR in real life?”
“I love the Night Witch! She’s so tiny I just want to hug her!”
The corner of my mouth twitched. Inside my head there were only two words: I’m done for.
And the real “done for” was still coming—because outside the door I saw not only enthusiastic onlookers but even news club members holding recording boards and cameras, their eyes screaming “front-page headline.”
The pressure was more suffocating than the earlier battle.
If the full-dive room didn’t have its internal laser lock, they probably would have already burst inside.
I cleared my throat, trying to politely ask them to make way.
Before I could get a word out, a barrage of questions slammed into me instead:
“Are you second-year student Yae Yoruichi?”
“BHAO can’t have gender mismatches between game characters and reality, so Yae Yoruichi has to be a girl!”
“Can you disable the AR plugin system so we can see your real appearance?”
I: “Uh… ah… I…”
My brain had answers, but my mouth felt like it had been hit with a “silence” status.
The more nervous I got, the more I froze.
The more I tried to be polite, the more I wanted to vanish on the spot.
My back stiffened traitorously.
What do I do…
I even started seriously fantasizing: If only the real-world me could use MERGE INTO SHADOW to slip through the crowd cracks.
Just as that suffocating feeling was about to crush me, the crowd was forcefully parted like someone had used “authority” to cut a path through the chaos.
Heita pushed through with two girls wearing disciplinary committee armbands.
His face was full of anticipation, like a fan who had finally reached the story climax.
He shouted at me loudly: “Let’s go first, Yoruichi—we’ll leave right away—my KING wants to see you!”
I froze. A red “trouble warning” light flashed in my brain.
I instinctively repeated: “Your KING?”
Heita nodded vigorously, afraid I hadn’t understood, and added: “The super popular idol KING lately—SNOW BAUHINIA.”
Just hearing the name sounded like someone who came with built-in spotlights and an icy aura wherever she went.
I let out a deep sigh in my heart, feeling like today’s fate was a rope being dragged back and forth: just pulled free from Mayne’s side only to be yanked toward a new KING.
I had only wanted to live quietly, yet the plot refused to let me go and kept raising the stakes.
I pressed my hand against the internal laser unlock panel.
My fingertips trembled slightly.
The commotion outside beat against the edges of the room like waves while I could only give Heita the answer that sounded like surrender: “…Okay.”
Then I added in my heart, in a helpless tone:
Aaaah, reality has no skills—only plot, and it’s a long-running drama.