The corridor was changing.
As the crimson tide swallowed more of the space—as the bloody water, ghostly infants, mangled corpses, and childish scribbles clashed in a war of opposing supernatural forces—something hidden began to surface.
Like an invading force peeling back the layers of this place, exposing what should never have been seen.
But these traces were faint, fleeting. Takakai only caught glimpses as he fled.
A portrait or child's drawing flickering onto a wall.
A tall figure leading three children around a corner.
Voices from unseen classrooms—children chatting, laughing.
A boy dreaming of becoming a pilot.
A girl wanting to be a singer, to travel the world.
Their voices brimmed with hope, with naive excitement—
—until Takakai reached the doorway, only to find another endless hallway, the room itself gone.
Are these… fragments of Hachiya Chiyo's memories?
He wanted to stop, to study them, but he couldn't.
All he could do was run.
Run from the unstoppable monstrosity chasing him.
BOOM—! BOOM—!
The blood-drenched chainsaw tore through walls like paper, splintering reality itself.
What players couldn't scratch, this thing destroyed with ease.
The blood tide spread further.
Within it, pale infant corpses floated, their tiny hands clawing at the air.
Takakai saw figures in demon masks, holding candles, chanting hymns as they danced—
—a macabre ritual unfolding in the slaughterhouse's wake.
[Tomilo Slaughterhouse]—a notorious Crimson Moon dungeon—was more than just a place of butchery.
It was the heart of a cult.
A town of thousands, isolated for decades, brainwashed into fanaticism.
They started with sacrificing their own children.
Then travelers.
Then a government official who discovered them.
When his subordinates escaped, the cult's leader—knowing his end was near—poisoned the entire town.
Now, as Touyama's presence grew, the slaughterhouse's power bled into the orphanage, corrupting it further.
Why hasn't Hachiya Chiyo appeared?
Last time, in Fujisaka Academy, the local Remnants had ganged up on Touyama, locking him away.
But here?
Nothing.
No resistance. No backlash.
As if the dungeon itself had abandoned this place.
Is this the KP's doing?
Or… is this just how the orphanage works?
Last loop, Takakai had seen no Remnants here except Hachiya Chiyo.
Maybe, to her, no other monsters were allowed in this place.
Her home.
Her sanctuary.
And now that she's gone…
There's nothing to stop the invasion.
The expulsion notice had lured her away—straight to the Butcher.
And now, with the Butcher's corpse in Takakai's hands, she might be stuck there, unable to return.
The KP predicted this.
It forced me here, then sealed my escape.
Trapped me with a Remnant designed to counter me.
Multiple Obsessions running wild—immune to [Suppression Bullets].
Too well-planned.
Too perfect.
The policeman Obsession Takakai had sent scouting had found nothing.
Without Hayasaka's tracking skills, Takakai couldn't decipher the faint traces in the dust.
And now—
VVVRRRRMMMM—!
Touyama lumbered forward, his chainsaw roaring.
No matter how far Takakai ran, if the monster saw him, it could close the gap instantly—
—an unfair, inescapable pursuit.
THUD—!
Takakai blocked another strike with the Butcher's corpse, and for a split second—
—the hallway changed.
A middle-aged woman smiled, leading children in a game.
A younger Hachiya Chiyo laughed among them, carefree, happy.
Then—gone.
Only blood, Touyama, and the chanting cultists remained.
This can't go on.
The longer the slaughterhouse's power festers here, the more the orphanage—the key to Hachiya Chiyo's Obsession—rots away.
If Takakai kept running, he'd never solve the dungeon.
He'd be forced to reset—
—and the KP would only tighten the noose further.
What do I do?
His Twilight-grade Obsessions were useless against a Crimson Moon's might.
[Blood Key] needed a door—and there were none here.
The [Rescue Team Badge] kept him alive, but its summons couldn't stop Touyama.
The [Expulsion Notice] was disabled—the Principal Remnant that empowered it had been torn apart by Hachiya Chiyo.
The Butcher's apron offered resistance, but at the cost of blurring his identity.
The Butcher's spoon was… just a spoon.
The KP didn't bring in new elements.
It used the dungeon's existing rules against me.
So there must be a loophole.
But where—?
VVVRRRRMMMM—!
The chainsaw swung down.
Another memory flickered—
—a man handing out homemade sweets to the children—
—then twisting into a skeletal figure feeding mangled meat to dismembered corpses.
Takakai stumbled back, and Touyama pounced, pinning him down.
Only the Butcher's corpse between them kept the chainsaw from splitting his skull.
The cultists closed in, their hymns weaving invisible chains around Takakai's body—
—crushing, strangling.
The infant corpses swarmed him.
A tiny hand plucked flesh from his arm.
Then another.
And another.
His arm was stripped to the bone.
A ghostly baby burrowed into his abdomen, yanking out his intestines, unspooling them like rope.
Others cheered, playing with his organs.
A hand tore off his scalp, his left eye.
Another ripped his ear, then his jaw, snapping bone, pulling his tongue free.
His legs were already gone, gnawed to stumps.
"Hah…"
Takakai's breath was ragged.
The pain was excruciating—but it sharpened his mind.
The chainsaw hovered inches from his face.
Through the blood-soaked sackcloth, Touyama's eyes gleamed with madness—
—and something else.
Contempt.
The same look the KP had given him in Fujika Academy, as it choked the life from him.
"Is this all you've got?"
With his one remaining eye, Takakai arched a brow—
—and smirked.
Then—
He reached up, unclasped the [Rescue Team Badge] from his chest—
—and pinned it onto Touyama.