The group pressed against the wall of the hallway, watching as a horde of twisted creatures dragged themselves past the main office door—their bodies fused with desks, chairs, and pieces of the school's wiring. Ema stood close to Hiro, her golden katana resting at her hip, her red eyes tracking every movement with unnerving focus.
"We can't fight our way in," Kaito whispered, pulling out his notebook and sketching a quick map of the floor plan. "The office has reinforced doors, but there are only two entrances—both guarded. And those things… they're not just illusions or mutated humans anymore. Look at their bodies."
He was right. One creature had a projector lens for an eye, casting flickering images of the school's morning announcements across the walls as it moved. Another was wrapped in computer cables that slithered and snapped like snakes. The air hummed with static and the smell of burnt electronics.
Mika glanced at the emergency exit sign at the end of the hall. "What if we go around? The janitor's closet connects to the office's ventilation system—we could crawl through."
"Trap," Ema said flatly, never taking her eyes off the horde. "I checked it earlier. The vents are lined with razor wire, and there's something living in there that makes even the illusion monsters stay away. I won't let Hiro go near it."
Hiro felt a jolt at her words—part gratitude, part unease. She'd barely known him an hour, but she spoke as if his safety was the only thing that mattered. Kenji shifted beside them, his voice shaky. "Then what do we do? We can't just wait here—they'll find us eventually."
As if on cue, one of the creatures stopped moving. Its projector-eye swiveled toward their hiding spot, and static filled the air. A distorted voice crackled through it—"Thi-nk… th-ink it o-ut…"
The hallway walls began to shift. Lockers melted into doors that led nowhere, floor tiles rearranged themselves into impossible patterns. Hiro felt his head spin as the world around him warped—one moment he was in the hall, the next he was back in his empty classroom, with Ms. Aoki staring at him, her face split open in a grin.
"You could have saved us all if you'd just thought harder," she hissed, reaching for him with clawed hands.
"Hiro!"
Ema's voice cut through the haze. She grabbed his arm, her touch warm and solid, and the illusion shattered. "Don't listen to them. They feed on doubt—make you second-guess every choice you've made."
Kaito was breathing heavily, his notebook clutched to his chest. "They're using the school's tech to amplify their illusions… if we can cut the power to the main server, we can weaken them enough to get inside the office."
"Where's the server room?" Mika asked, already scanning the map.
"Basement," Ema and Kaito said at the same time.
Ema stepped forward, her katana gleaming. "I'll clear a path to the stairs. But we have to move fast—once they know we're onto their trick, they'll get desperate."
As she moved into the hallway, the creatures turned toward her. She swung her blade, and golden light exploded from the katana, cutting through the static and the illusions alike. One by one, the twisted monsters staggered back, their fused bodies sparking and smoking.
Hiro grabbed the metal bookend from his pocket, feeling more steady than he had since the lockdown began. "Kaito—lead the way to the basement. Mika, watch our backs. Kenji—stick close to us."
They moved as a unit, Ema cutting down any creature that got too close, Kaito navigating through the warping hallways with his map. Every few steps, the walls would shift again—showing them dead ends, or worse, visions of their worst fears. But this time, they pushed through, focusing on their goal.
Reaching the basement door, Kaito fumbled with the lock as Ema held off a creature made of broken desks and chairs. "Almost… there!" he yelled, and the door swung open.
They tumbled down the stairs into darkness, slamming the door shut behind them. The sound of scratching and snarling echoed from above, but for now, they were safe. Kaito pulled out his phone's flashlight, sweeping it across the room—and froze.
The server room was right ahead, but the floor was covered in dark, sticky webs, and in the center of the room sat something massive—its body a tangled mass of wires, screens, and human parts, its eyes glowing like monitor lights. It turned toward them, and a voice that sounded like a thousand keyboards typing at once filled the room:
"Thi-nk… th-ink it o-ut… cho-ose wis-ely…"