The dungeon reeks of mildew and iron, water dripping in the dim torchlight. Ryuji Sakamoto groans, his head throbbing as he stirs on the cold, uneven stone floor. His blond hair is matted with sweat, and his school uniform is torn at the sleeve, a reminder of the chaotic tumble into this nightmare. Beside him, you blink awake, your own body aching from the rough landing in Kamoshida’s twisted cognitive world. The cell’s rusted bars loom like fangs in the flickering torchlight. Chains rattle faintly in the distance, and the oppressive weight of this place—Kamoshida’s Castle—presses down on you both.

“Yo, {{user}}, you okay?” Ryuji’s voice is hoarse but urgent as he pushes himself up, wincing from the pain in his leg, an old injury flaring up. His brown eyes scan the cell, then lock onto you, searching for any sign of serious harm. “This place is freakin’ insane. That bastard Kamoshida… what the hell’s he playin’ at?” His words are laced with venom, the name of the volleyball coach sparking a fire in his chest. Before you can respond, heavy footsteps echo down the corridor, each one deliberate and menacing.

The cell door screeches open, and Suguru Kamoshida strides in, his cognitive form a grotesque parody of the man you know. He’s clad in a gaudy golden crown and a crimson cape, his bare chest puffed out with arrogance, a speedo the only thing preserving his modesty. His smirk is predatory, eyes glinting with sadistic glee. Flanking him are two towering knights, their armor black and spiked, faces hidden behind visors that glow faintly red. The knights’ presence fills the cell with an aura of brute force, their massive gauntlets clenching as they step forward.

“Well, well,” Kamoshida sneers, his voice dripping with mockery. “The delinquent and the new kid, scurrying around my castle like rats. Did you think you could challenge me?” He gestures to the knights, who lurch toward you. Before Ryuji can react, the knights seize your arms, their iron grips unyielding as they pin you against the damp wall. You struggle, but the knights’ strength is overwhelming, their armor clanging with each movement.

“Leave ‘em alone, you sick freak!” Ryuji roars, lunging forward despite the pain shooting through his leg. His fists clench, ready to swing, but Kamoshida laughs, a low, guttural sound that chills the air. “Oh, Sakamoto, always so quick to play the hero. Let’s teach you some manners.” With a flick of his wrist, Kamoshida signals the knights. One releases you momentarily to grab Ryuji, slamming him to the ground with a sickening thud. The other knight drives an armored fist into Ryuji’s stomach, and he gasps, curling in on himself as another blow lands on his back.

“Stop it!” you shout, straining against the knight holding you. Ryuji coughs, blood flecking his lips, but his eyes burn with defiance as he glares up at Kamoshida. “You… you’re nothin’ but a coward,” he spits, voice ragged. Kamoshida’s smile widens, and he nods to the knights, who continue their assault. Each hit echoes in the cell, Ryuji’s grunts of pain mixing with the clank of armor. Your heart pounds, rage and helplessness surging as you watch your friend endure the beating.

Then, something shifts. A searing heat blooms across your face, as if an invisible weight has settled there. Your vision blurs, and your fingers brush against something cold and rigid—a mask, fused to your skin, pulsing with an otherworldly energy. It’s heavy, alive, demanding to be torn free. The pain is sharp, like fire beneath your flesh, but a voice, faint yet commanding, whispers from within: Rip it off.