Chapter 10: Ren's Reckoning
The single, stark name REN glowed on every phone screen, a chilling pronouncement that ripped through the fragile silence of the lobby.
A collective gasp went through the remaining students, their eyes wide with a fresh wave of terror.
Ren, who had been sitting apart, his face pale and withdrawn, looked up, his eyes darting frantically from screen to screen, then to the horrified faces of his classmates.
"No! No, it can't be!" Ren shrieked, scrambling backward on the polished floor, his voice raw with disbelief and absolute terror. "I didn't! I didn't mean it! I'm sorry! Haruto, I'm so sorry! Please, save me! Someone, please save me!"
His desperate pleas were met with a stunned, horrified silence.
The screams and sickening sounds of Mika, Haruna, Hiroki, Taro, and Jiro's ongoing torment still echoed faintly from the corners of the lobby, a gruesome backdrop to Ren's unraveling.
"Please! I didn't know!" Ren wailed, tears streaming down his face, his body shaking uncontrollably.
He crawled towards Kaito, his hands outstretched in a desperate plea. "Kaito, please! You have to help me! I don't want to die! I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry for Haruto! Please, save me!"
Kaito recoiled, his face a mask of horror and conflicted emotions.
He saw the genuine, agonizing terror in Ren's eyes, but the image of Haruto's bloody body, and the memory of Ren's selfish confession, were too fresh.
He couldn't move. No one could.
They were paralyzed by fear, by the overwhelming sense of dread that this was an inevitable consequence.
Ren's desperate crying suddenly stopped.
His body went rigid.
His eyes, wide and unblinking, slowly turned completely black—like deep, empty holes.
His mouth stretched into a silent, terrifying scream, unnaturally wide, with a thin, dark, tar-like liquid oozing from its corners.
The sweet, decaying floral scent intensified, pressing in on them, thick and suffocating.
The whispers returned, a low, guttural hum that vibrated through the very floorboards, seeming to emanate directly from Ren.
He slowly, deliberately, began to stand up.
His movements were stiff, unnatural, almost like a puppet on strings.
He shuffled towards the grand staircase, his feet dragging slightly on the polished floor, making a faint, unsettling scraping sound.
His head remained perfectly still, his blank, black eyes fixed on the curving banister.
"Ren? What are you doing?" Akari whispered, her voice barely a breath, knowing, with a sickening certainty, what was about to happen.
Ren ignored her.
He reached the bottom of the grand staircase.
With a horrifying, sickening grunt, he began to systematically, methodically, tear at his own skin.
He started with his forearms—his fingers, now impossibly long and sharp, digging into his flesh, ripping away strips of skin and muscle.
Blood immediately welled up, dark and thick, covering his hands and arms.
A collective scream of pure horror erupted from the remaining students.
They watched, frozen, as Ren continued his gruesome self-destruction.
He moved up the staircase, tearing at his chest, his torso, his legs—his blank eyes showing no pain, no emotion, only that terrifying emptiness.
He ripped away his own flesh, exposing bone and sinew, the sickening sounds of tearing skin and dripping blood filling the lobby.
His guts began to spill out, a grotesque, writhing mass, as blood flowed freely, forming dark, spreading trails on the grand staircase.
Each tear was deliberate, rhythmic, accompanied by a low, guttural moan from Ren—a sound of profound, unseen torment.
He continued to ascend the stairs, leaving a bloody trail in his wake, his body slowly, agonizingly, dissecting itself.
The sweet, decaying floral scent was now overwhelmingly mixed with the overpowering, metallic smell of fresh blood, making them gag and choke.
The whispers in the air grew louder, a frantic, desperate chorus, seeming to mock their helplessness.
Ren reached the top of the staircase—a mangled, bloody mess of flesh and bone.
His movements slowed, becoming weaker, slower.
He stood for a moment, swaying, his black eyes still fixed on nothing.
Then, with a final, wet thump, he collapsed onto the landing, his body a twisted, unrecognizable ruin.
The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the ragged gasps and choked sobs of the horrified students.
Ren lay motionless, his body a twisted, bloody mess.
Eleven students had now died or been grotesquely transformed:
Hiroshi
Daiki
Emi
Kenji
Haruto
Mika
Haruna
Hiroki
Taro
Jiro
and now Ren
The remaining students, a devastated group of nineteen, stood huddled together in the lobby.
Their faces were pale, streaked with tears, their eyes wide with unspeakable horror.
They were crying—openly, uncontrollably—their bodies shaking with fear and despair.
The sweet floral scent, the lingering smell of blood, the silence that pressed in on them—it was all a horrifying testament to the game's relentless, insatiable hunger.
They were utterly helpless.
Trapped in a nightmare that seemed to have no end.