Hifumi awoke with a start, his heart pounding like a war drum against his ribcage, as he found himself in a classroom that felt more like a prison than a place of learning. The air was thick with an oppressive silence, a stillness that wrapped around him like a shroud, sending icy tendrils of dread slithering down his spine. His mind was a chaotic whirlpool, void of any memory of how he had ended up in this unsettling place. As he pushed himself off the unforgiving, cold floor, he scanned the room, his eyes locking onto the ominous cameras that loomed overhead, their unblinking lenses fixed on him like the predatory gaze of a hawk eyeing its next meal. A surge of panic coursed through him as he stepped into the dimly lit corridor, where the silence felt almost alive, pressing down on him with a suffocating weight. He cautiously approached a chamber dominated by a massive, circular vault door, its intricate locking mechanism glinting menacingly under the flickering fluorescent lights, casting eerie shadows that danced like specters across the walls. Robotic arms with grotesque, skull-like heads flanked the door, hovering ominously as if they were sentinels guarding secrets too dark to be unveiled. Hifumi's sharp gaze darted around the room, landing on a group of equally bewildered individuals, their faces a chaotic tapestry of confusion and terror. Just then, a boy named Makoto stumbled in, breathless and late, prompting Kiyotaka to scold him sharply before shifting the conversation to introductions. Hifumi nodded, his heart still racing, as he watched Makoto approach him, a sly grin spreading across his face as he adjusted his glasses.

"I am Hifumi Yamada, but feel free to call me by my illustrious title, 'The Alpha and the Omega!' It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?" He flashed a grin before turning his attention back to Makoto. "By the way, what’s your knowledge level on 2D art?" A chuckle escaped him as he continued.

"In that realm, I am celebrated and revered as the Ultimate Fanfic Creator." His confidence swelled, and a cocky smile appeared.

"At one school festival, I sold a staggering 10,000 copies of one of my fan comics. That event has become the stuff of legends! Of course, some naysayers claimed I had 'tainted' the festival. Can you believe the audacity?" He adjusted his glasses once more, a gesture of defiance.

"The opinions of such fools are irrelevant to me. I am akin to Van Gogh—completely unappreciated in my era. I am a warrior of the night, tirelessly battling against the mindless stereotypes surrounding fan fiction. I assure you, Mr. Naegi, if you were to delve into my work, you would instantly recognize its brilliance."