Rows of students, once held in place by the rigid authority of their teachers, now teetered on the edge of panic. Shouts of confusion and fear overlapped, creating a cacophony that seemed to drown out all rational thought. Some students huddled in groups, trembling, while others stood aimlessly, unsure of where to turn.

“Reo!” Sakura’s voice cracked as she fought through the dense crowd, her heart hammering against her chest. Her eyes darted wildly, scanning the sea of panicked faces. “Reo, where are you?”

Beside her, Yuma struggled to keep up, grabbing random students by the shoulder and spinning them around. “Ichika!” she called, her tone carrying a desperation that mirrored Sakura’s. “Has anyone seen Ichika?”

But their cries were swallowed by the rising tide of panic. Students were breaking down, some in tears, others frozen in fear. From the corner of her eye, Sakura saw a group gathered around Kazuto’s body, his lifeless corpse a grim reminder of the reality. The sight of the blood pooling beneath him sent a fresh wave of nausea through her.

“Come on,” Yuma said, her voice trembling. “The teachers can track the students’ IDs from the staff room.”

Reluctantly, Sakura tore her gaze from Kazuto’s body. “Right,” she muttered, her thoughts still clouded by the shock of the principal’s brutal act. “We’ll find them. We have to.”

They hurried through the school corridors, and up the stairwell where the destruction was even more pronounced. In clear view the ironclad gates loomed ominously at the edges of the campus, reinforced to keep them trapped inside as the smoke billowed in the distance, drifting lazily over the school, in the distance were a few students stood on the edge on the other building, staring down at the grounds below.

A sudden scream cut through the thick air, high-pitched and desperate. Sakura’s breath caught in her throat as she looked out the jagged glass just in time to see a body plummeting from the rooftop above. The sound of impact echoed horribly as the figure hit the ground mere feet away from a group of students, sending a sickening thud through the concrete.

Sakura’s stomach twisted violently. Suicide, she thought bitterly, bile rising in her throat. Her legs locked up for a moment, unable to move up another step, frozen in horror as her mind struggled to process what she had just witnessed.

“Keep moving,” Yuma whispered urgently, her voice shaking. “We can’t stop. We can’t”

Sakura forced herself to tear her eyes away from the broken body, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might explode. The desperation on the faces of the students below was burned into her mind.

They pressed on, however the wailing from the students crushed against the gates only got louder, pleading to be let out, banging on the unyielding metal with bloodied fists.

“Come on, Yuma,” Sakura muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “We have to find Reo.”

Yuma nodded, her face pale. “Yeah, let’s go.”

But even as they climbed floor to floor, the sound of the jumper’s final scream followed them, like a ghost that wouldn’t let go.

They entered the corridor on the Fifth floor, the staff room was out of bounce as the pair were greeted by the sight of makeshift barricades hastily constructed from desks, chairs, and filing cabinets, a crude but effective fort blocking the stairs. The few teachers stood like sentinels, arms crossed, their expressions hardened, though fatigue showed through their rigid stances. It was clear they had been holding the line for a while.

On one side, a group of students crowded against the barricade, eyes wide with terror and frustration. Some of them cried openly, others pounded their fists against the desks, their desperation palpable. “Let us through!” one student screamed, his voice breaking with fear. “You can’t just leave us out here!”

A girl, her face streaked with tears, pressed her hands together in a pleading gesture. “Please! There’s got to be a way out! We don’t want to die!”

But on the other side, Mr. Hanson stood, arms crossed, a towering figure of stoic authority. His face was a mask of calm, but if you looked closely, you could see the cracks. His jaw tightened with every desperate plea from the students. His brow furrowed, just enough to show the creeping uncertainty underneath the iron façade.

“This is the only way we keep control,” Hanson muttered under his breath, more to himself than to the others. His voice, low and resolute, echoed in the corridor, mixing with the sobs of the students. “Look, we can’t feed everyone, food and water won't last a few long if we take them in.”

Ms. Chiyo, the elderly teacher, stood beside him, her white curls bouncing slightly as she shook her head. Her eyes, filled with compassion, scanned the crying faces of the students. “We are duty-bound to protect them, Hanson,” she said softly, but firmly. “We can’t just keep them out here. Look at them... they’re terrified.” as she handed out sweets through the barricade to the students from behind the fort as she seemed out of place amidst the chaos. “You heard what that nutter said! We can’t just stand by while the school falls apart!”

One boy banged his fist against the barricade again, tears of frustration brimming in his eyes. “Please, we’ll die out here! You have to help us!”

“Ms. Chiyo! Least ration them” Hanson snapped, his voice sharp.

Hanson’s lips pressed into a thin line as he glanced over his shoulder at Ms. Akasuki, who had been pacing, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She finally stopped, turning toward him with a fire in her eyes.

“This isn’t control, Mr. Hanson,” she snapped, her voice shaking with anger. She gestured to the students, her hand trembling. “You can’t keep them out. We’re supposed to protect them, not abandon them.”

Mr. Hanson sighed deeply and looked down the corridor, eyes filled with conflicted resolve. “We’re told in basic, the first rule in any disaster, make sure you're safe and secure, then help others. Right now, we can’t even secure ourselves,” he muttered, his tone laced with frustration.

Ms. Akasuki, freshed faced to the profession, her gentle features hardened by the situation, shook her head vehemently. “That’s not good enough. We have to do something. I’m going out there.”

Hanson’s gaze flickered toward her, something almost like guilt flashing in his eyes, but it was gone just as quickly. “We’re outnumbered,” he said through gritted teeth. “It's chaos out there. We can’t manage them all, Akasuki. It’s best to let the storm settle. Wait for rescue.”

Ms. Akasuki’s face twisted in disbelief. “Wait for rescue?!” she repeated, her voice rising. “Hanson, we’re trapped in here, you saw what that mad man did to one of our students!”

Sakura and Yuma stood off to the side, taking in the scene, their breaths shallow. The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on. Yuma clenched her fists, stepping forward as if she was about to say something, but Sakura grabbed her arm, shaking her head. Not now.

A student on the outside of the barricade, a girl with dishevelled hair and a bloodstained sleeve, screamed, “We saw someone jump! The teachers are supposed to help us!”

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The words struck like a slap, reverberating through the corridor. Hanson flinched, his stern mask cracking further. Ms. Chiyo reached out to the girl, her voice soft but insistent. “Calm down, dear. We’re going to figure this out”

“Figure it out?!” the girl screamed, her eyes wide with disbelief. “People are dying!”

For a moment, there was silence. A suffocating, oppressive silence. Even the other students stopped their pounding, as the weight of her words settled over them like a heavy fog. One boy, wild-eyed and shaking, suddenly lunged at the barricade, his hands clawing at the desks as if sheer will could tear them down. "Let me through! Let me through!" The teachers barely managed to shove him back before he collapsed to the floor, sobbing.

Hanson took a deep breath, looking down at his hands, which had started trembling slightly. He hadn’t noticed until now. What am I doing? The thought flitted across his mind, fleeting and unwelcome. We have to maintain control, he told himself again, but the conviction behind it was fading.

Ms. Akasuki stepped forward, her voice quieter now, but no less fierce. “This isn’t the way, Hanson.” She locked eyes with him, her gaze unwavering. “We can’t just stand by while they fall apart. If we don’t step up, the kids will tear the school apart”

Hanson’s throat tightened, his hands clenched into fists. He wanted to argue. He wanted to shut her down, tell her that she didn’t understand the situation. But even he wasn't beginning to doubt himself as a scream drew their attention.

The sound of another distant scream echoed through the halls, someone else had jumped. The students pressed against the barricade, their fear rising to a fever pitch.

“Fuck this,” Ms. Akasuki muttered under her breath, pushing past Hanson. “I’m going out there.”

“Ms. Akasuki, wait” Sakura called, trying to stop her, but the young teacher had already made up her mind.

Hanson turned away, his eyes fixed on the ground. This is falling apart. For the first time since the nightmare had started, he felt something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel, doubt.

“Girls? Your arm, Yuma?” Ms. Akasuki’s voice softened as she gently reached out, her fingers lightly brushing against the bandages on Yuma’s arm.

Yuma winced, flinching as a sharp pang of pain shot through her. “Sakura treated it for me,” she mumbled, her voice trembling.

Sakura swallowed hard, her face turning pale as memories of that morning flooded back. The chaos, the blood, the screams. “The nurse’s office... It's overwhelming. So many students were injured this morning...” Her voice faltered, the weight of the words hanging in the air between them.

Ms. Akasuki’s gaze softened, her hand lingering on Sakura’s shoulder, a small gesture of comfort amidst the chaos. “I’ll head down and see the nurse. We’ll need her help soon enough.” Her voice was calm.

Sakura’s breath hitched as she turned to Ms. Akasuki, desperation flashing in her eyes. “Wait,” she said quickly, her voice cracking. “Can you use the school ID system to track my brother? Please, I need to know where Reo is.”

Ms. Akasuki nodded, her expression serious. But before she could answer, Yuma spoke up, her own voice trembling with anxiety. “And Ichika,” Yuma added, her eyes wide with worry. “She’s missing too. Can you find her?”

Ms. Akasuki gave a soft, reassuring nod as she adjusted the strap of her bag. “I’ll check both,” she promised, her tone steady. “Come on through, stay close to each other. We’ll find them.”

Inside the staffroom, tension hung in the air like a thick fog. The teachers sat at their desks, eyes glued to the central holo-display where the Demondice logo spun endlessly, taunting them. Mr. Hanson stormed in, his jaw set, hands balled into fists.

“Do what you want!” Hanson barked as he walked to his desk “Don't listen to the only guy here with real world disaster training” , throwing himself into his chair. The weight of his military past showed in the way his shoulders sagged.

Puzzled look crossed his face as he kicked a box under his desk, glancing down under his desk sat a gift-wrapped package, a mocking contrast to the madness unfolding around them. As he placed the gift on his desk, he noticed a tag attached to it bore, a joker playing card, and for a moment, Hanson just stared at it. Beside the package was a framed picture of him in his military days, standing tall and proud, the man he once was. He felt a pang of shame as he looked at it now.

Sakura glanced at Yuma, who remained quiet, observing. Ms. Akasuki leaned toward Hanson. “Give me a minute girls,I’ll locate the others. Then I’ll go with you too,” she said softly.

“No more students back here!” Hanson snapped, more out of habit than true conviction as he was opening the package with trembling hands.

Inside, a silver revolver gleamed in the faint light, a skull in a jester hat carved into the walnut grip, an Ace of Clubs on it pummel. Hanson stared at it, his face a mix of surprise and dread.

“Reo’s at the tech department on the ground floor,” Akasuki said, checking the student IDs system. “Ichika’s in the nurse’s office on the first floor.”

Hanson didn’t respond immediately. He just stared at the gun, turning it slowly in his hands, as he clenched the revolver, his fingers tightening around the cool metal. “I need to kill him.” The words slipped from his mouth in a whisper, as though he were trying to convince himself that this was the right thing to do.

Yuma stepped forward, her voice trembling. “I’ll go for Ichika. I’ll wait there for you.”

Hanson slips the revolour under his belt, concealing it from others, “Ms. Akasuki, where is the principal?”

Sakura’s eyes darted between Hanson and the gun in his hand. “I’ll go tech department”

Ms. Akasuki turned to Mr. Hanson puzzled, “He’s in his office?”

Hanson nodded numbly “Thanks”, barely registering their words. His mind was elsewhere.

As Sakura, Yuma and Ms. Akasuki made their way out the Staff Room, “I’ll go with with you girl’s”

As they left the staffroom, Hanson lingered behind, his grip tightening around the revolver. He stared down at it, the ace of clubs staring back at him.

The air felt heavier, the walls of the school closing in on them. The distant cries of students echoed through the ruined corridors, and the smell of smoke and dust filled the air. Sakura’s mind raced, Reo was somewhere down here, maybe hiding, maybe scared. She had to find him.

Yuma split off from Sakura and Ms. Akasuki moved quickly, heading toward the ground floor, as she headed to the nurse’s office, feeling her heart race. Ichika had been a childhood friend, the thought of her being injured or worse sent a chill down her spine.

Meanwhile, Hanson stormed past the barricades, his gun holstered but ready. “Stay here, Chiyo,” he barked as Ms. Chiyo continued handing out food, ignoring his command. The older woman’s resolve remained steadfast as she tried to bring some sense of normalcy to the terrified students. “Ration it at least!, Ms. Chiyo,” Hanson ordered, his voice distant, as he approached the stairwell.

Hanson’s footsteps echoed down the empty hallway, air was thick with dust and the lingering stench of smoke. Every classroom he passed was in ruin, desks overturned, papers scattered, broken glass crunching beneath his feet.

“Anyone here?” he called out, his voice hoarse. Silence greeted him, save for the distant hum of the emergency lights flickering above.

As he neared the principal’s office. His breathing was heavy, his fingers twitching near the holster at his side. The door loomed ahead, solid and impenetrable, timber reinforced with metal frame.

“Got to end this before anything else happens,” he muttered under his breath, lifting his gun and slamming the butt against the door.

“You bastard!” Hanson roared, his voice reverberating through the halls. “Open up!”

Inside, the principal sat calmly, letting a long, agonising pause before pushing a button on his microphone. His voice crackled through the intercom system, low and mocking. “Hanson, I see you’ve gotten a wildcard too.”

“I should have stopped you in the hall,” Hanson growled, his fists pounding the door in futility. His breath came in ragged gasps as the principal’s voice rang through the intercom again.

“You didn’t stop my son’s killer, Hanson,” the principal sneered. “Nobody stopped my wife killing herself, and you could not stop me killing their murderer.”

The sound of two gunshots echoed through the corridor, Hanson knew that it wouldn’t open the door, it didn't even budge. He froze, his pulse hammering in his ears.

Hanson’s gaze fell to the bullet holes now embedded in the door, the reinforced metal mocking his efforts. “Fuck,” he hissed, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

Two first-year students appeared at the end of the corridor, wide-eyed and terrified. They were too young to understand what was happening, too young to be caught in this nightmare.

Without thinking, Hanson instinctively pointed the gun at them, his hand trembling. The students froze, their faces pale with terror. Realisation hit him like a cold wave, and he lowered the gun, his chest tight. “Shit. Sorry, kids. Are you okay?”

The students nodded, their eyes never leaving the weapon in his hand. They didn’t speak, just stood there, as if one wrong move would seal their fate.

Hanson sighed, holstering the gun. “Nobody is going to hurt you,” he said, his voice quieter now.

One of the students finally spoke, her voice small and trembling. “What do we do?”

Hanson steeled himself, his mind racing for a plan. “We need to create a safe zone for you kids,” he said, his voice firming up. “We’ll head to the English department. When the JDF arrives, that’s where they’ll find us. I’ll make it safe there.”

The students exchanged glances, uncertainty written all over their faces. But they nodded, flickering of hope flashed across their faces.