The sharp wail of the siren cut through the night, signaling the end of another brutal game.

From the shadows of a crumbling alleyway, Usagi wiped the sweat from her brow, her breathing still uneven from their own narrow escape in the last round. Her sharp eyes scanned the ruined street beyond, watching as the remaining survivors emerged from the battlefield, some stumbling, others barely alive.

Next to her, Chishiya leaned against the alley wall, hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets, expression unreadable as usual.

Chishiya: More survivors than I expected.

Kuina tightened her grip on her wooden staff, watching as the injured contestants dragged themselves forward.

Kuina: Yeah… but look at them. They’re barely standing.

Ann crossed her arms, observing with an analytical gaze.

Ann: It must’ve been a high-difficulty game. Most people aren’t this battered unless it was a face-card level.

Arisu: At least some people made it. But—

Then he saw her.

A figure, moving differently from the others.

Unlike the others who were exhausted and broken, she carried herself with an unsettling air of control. She wasn't staggering, weren’t looking for allies or safety. No, if anything, she looked like they belonged here.

Kuina: Who the hell is she?

The girl was in a tattered school uniform, her long black hair falling neatly over her shoulders. Despite the blood splatters on her clothes, she looked… calm. Almost eerily so. Her lips curled into a knowing smile as if she were watching a story unfold exactly as she predicted.

Usagi felt a shiver crawl up her spine.

Usagi: Something’s wrong with her.