[GOOD LUCK.]
As the chanical voice faded into silence, Sora imdiately clutched the phone
in her pocket.
The screen ignited automatically, displaying the nine rules in sharp, cold
text—identical to the broadcast. There was zero signal in the upper-left
corner; the battery icon in the right was replaced by a flickering question
mark. Aside from this rules interface, every other function of the device was
locked.
Sora's brain shifted into high gear, parsing the text for tactical data.
Mama's room... Affection... Lullaby... Sustenance...
Every phrase pointed toward a cozy dostic scene, yet when combined, they
constructed a structural cage from which there was no obvious extraction. Her
gaze locked onto the sixth and seventh protocols.
[CONSUMPTION OF ALL FOOD IS MANDATORY.] [FAILURE TO CONSU WILL RESULT IN MAMA
EXPERIENCING 'SADNESS.']
A specific case-file from Master Vahn's lectures flashed in her mind: Case
Designation: The Mad Gourt.
The logic of that Anomaly was centered on the binding of affection and
consumption. By forcing the target to eat non-stop, it eventually triggered a
dual-collapse of the psyche and physiology, leading to total assimilation. To
this day, the survival rate for that scenario remained a flat zero percent.
Sora forced herself to stop spiraling. She stood up from the bed and began a
sensory sweep of the sector. The door was an archaic wooden model; the handle
refused to budge, likely locked from the exterior. The window was a heavy timber
fra, the glass coated in a thick layer of grey dust. She shoved against it
with all her might, but it was anchored by a black, gelatinous substance that
sealed the seams.
It was a total containnt chamber.
Just as Sora was weighing her options, a sound echoed from beyond the wood.
Click.
The sound of a key turning in a lock. Is Mama entering the sector?
Sora held her breath, her muscles coiling into a combat-ready state. She pressed
her ear to the door, filtering the ambient noise.
And then, she heard it.
Crunch... squelch... crunch...
The sound of chewing. Hearing that wet, rhythmic grinding in a Rule-Based
Scenario told her exactly what to expect.
Rule 6: Mama has prepared ample sustenance.
The entity was right outside, "preparing" the al. Sora's stomach perford a
violent revolution as her imagination filled in the blanks regarding the raw
materials of that food. She hesitated. Did she stay in this "safe" room and wait
for the door to open? Or did she attempt to break out and face whatever was
feasting on the other side?
Both paths looked like a one-way trip to the Void.
While Sora was still calculating the risk, the handle of her door turned without
warning.
Clack.
The door creaked open a fraction. Sora felt the hair on her neck stand up; she
instinctively retreated several paces, her body assuming a defensive posture,
eyes locked on the expanding gap.
The door swung wide. No blood-soaked monster erged. Instead, a girl who looked
roughly fourteen or fifteen stepped into the room.
The newcor wore a school uniform Sora didn't recognize. On her chest was a
small, stylistically cute badge featuring a chibi skull. The girl's features
were clean, androgynous, and carried a natural, wide-eyed curiosity—she looked
like a common student who had simply taken a wrong turn.
But Sora didn't relax. In this world, the aesthetic shell was the least reliable
variable. This could be a human, or it could be an Anomaly wearing a
"Skin-Suit."
Sora remained silent, terrified of triggering a latent death-protocol. The two
of them stood a few paces apart, asuring each other.
Bochi tilted its head, observing the guarded human. The "Little Sister" Anomaly
it had consud outside had been of terrible quality—poor texture, bitter Od.
Even now, Bochi felt a lingering nausea. Having already decided that "The
Devourer" was a more efficient way to process such pests, the sli-in-disguise
broke the silence first.
"Greetings."
Sora offered no response. Foundational Protocol: Do not engage in verbal
exchange with unidentified entities. Even if the girl seed harmless, caution
was the only currency that bought ti.
Seeing Sora's silence, Bochi grew bored, beginning to mutter to itself. "What a
ridiculous na. 'Mama's Lullaby.' This isn't fun at all."
Sora's internal processors stuttered. A Player! Only a selected participant
would know the formal designation of the Instance. A wave of pity washed over
her—to be summoned into a Tier-7 hellscape at such a young age was tragic.
But pity was a common lure for Anomalies.
Sora's tension eased by a fraction of a percent, but she remained anchored. She
took a deep breath, deciding to risk a probe.
"Are you also a selected participant?"
Bochi tilted its head, processing the term 'participant' before giving a vague
nod. "A participant? I suppose so. I am here for exploration."
Exploration? Sora blinked. Only two types of people referred to a suicide-ga
as "exploration": madn or absolute powerhouses. Her eyes drifted to the skull
badge on the girl's uniform.
"Which institution do you represent?"
"Evernight Academy."
Evernight Academy? Sora searched her mory archives but found zero data. It was
an unidentified variable. But that was secondary; the primary data point was
that the girl could engage in logical dialogue. Anomalies rarely possessed that
capacity—their speech was usually a scripted trap designed to force a rule
violation.
Sora initiated a second probe. "Do you possess data on our current location?"
"Negative," Bochi shook its head, its expression one of open distaste. "This
sector is tedious. And the sustenance here is of abysmal quality."
Sustenance?
"What... what did you consu?"
"A pest."
A pest? Sora's mind visualized several horrific possibilities. A giant scavenger
roach? A mimic-worm? She knew the food provided by the Ga was never ant for
humans. For this girl to consu it without a physical breakdown—and complain
about the flavor—ant this was not her first deploynt.
Sora swallowed hard, asking the terminal question.
"Are you an Anomaly?"
It was a blunt, reckless query. But she needed a baseline.
Bochi wrinkled its nose, its face a mask of genuine loathing. "I am not one of
those wretched things."
The repulsion felt authentic. Sora finally allowed herself a long, shuddering
exhale. Though the girl was strange in every conceivable way, she appeared to be
an ally—or at least, not an imdiate predator.
She stepped out of the shadows and extended a hand.
"Sora."
Bochi looked at the hand, then mimicked the gesture with chanical precision.
"Bochi."
Sora looked into Bochi's eyes, her voice turning solemn. "I hope we both achieve
a successful extraction from this place."
☆☆☆
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