The air vibrated with a deep, distant rumble.
The speakers crackled before a calm, almost amused voice rose:
> "Well… too bad. I warned you.
There are exactly two hours left before the gas is released.
Try to run fast, my little actors."
A brief silence.
Then, suddenly, an electric guitar tore through the darkness.
> Friends say it's fine, friends say it's good,
Everybody says it's just like rock and roll…
The song echoed through the underground network, bouncing off damp walls.
Every tunnel pulsed to the beat of 20th Century Boy—
A tune almost cheerful, yet twisted, like a mockery thrown at the faces of the survivors.
---
Arata's side
Panting, covered in dust, Arata stopped dead at the corner of a corridor.
"Hope Ban's still alive…" he muttered between breaths.
He clenched his teeth.
"This is not the isekai I dreamed of."
A muffled sound—sobs.
Arata lifted his headlamp, the beam catching a small boy curled up against the wall, trembling.
> "I want my dad… and mom…" the child whimpered.
Arata immediately knelt beside him.
"Hey, kid. Don't worry, I'll get you out of here, okay?"
Before he could say anything more, the masked voice echoed again from the speakers:
> "Leave the child.
He'll only slow you down."
Arata looked up, furious.
"I know that voice… the bastard from the TV!"
> "'Bastard' is not the word I would've chosen," the voice replied, amused.
"But I warned you — the gas will be released in less than two hours.
You should leave him. He's of no importance."
Arata's fists trembled. His jaw tightened.
"No importance…?"
He rose slowly, staring at the ceiling.
"Maybe I'm an idiot. Maybe I won't survive this. But one thing's for sure…"
He hoisted the boy onto his back, adjusted his lamp strap, and shouted:
> "NO HERO FROM AN ISEKAI WOULD EVER ABANDON A CRYING CHILD!"
Then he started running again — as fast as he could, his footsteps clanging against the metal floor —
while the song grew louder and louder:
> I'm a 20th Century Boy,
I wanna be your toy!
---
Hastur and Efa's side
3:03.
The music's vibrations still shook the walls.
Efa, out of breath, snapped,
"What is this song? And where the hell are we? Where are Arata and Ban?! Are we just gonna die here?!"
Hastur raised a calm hand.
"Be quiet for a second."
He closed his eyes.
The song was everywhere—each corridor, each metal wall…
And then he understood.
"Speakers. The sound's coming from everywhere."
Efa frowned. "And? What difference does that make?"
A faint grin crossed Hastur's face. "All the difference."
He pressed two fingers to his temple and whispered,
"Lilith… awaken."
A faint organic crack echoed near his ear—like an eggshell breaking.
A small translucent dragonfly emerged, its wings glowing with golden light.
Efa stepped back, startled. "What the hell is that thing?!"
"Lilith. My sentinel."
His voice was low, methodical.
"She can sense residual Anima. And this song emits the perfect frequencies for it."
Hastur's eyes glowed—one green, one yellow.
"Listen carefully… with this sound field, Lilith can spread everywhere.
If Ban and Arata are still alive, I'll feel their presence."
Lilith's wings multiplied—once, twice, again—until hundreds of glowing insects filled the air.
They scattered through the tunnels, carried by the song's vibrations.
Efa, wide-eyed: "And if the mask hears you?"
"Then he'll know we're not afraid of him."
Somewhere deep in the network, a siren wailed.
The chorus warped, echoing endlessly:
> Life's just a groove, yeah, you know what I mean…
Women on love, machine on dream…
The tunnel trembled.
Dust rained from the ceiling.
Efa clutched her coat.
"Looks like the real show's about to start."
Hastur, calm as ever, replied,
"Then let's play our part."
And together, they walked on — guided by the song of the labyrinth.