The gray stone was the size of a soybean, perfectly smooth and round. I picked it up, and the diamond-shaped mark on my wrist started to heat up again. The stone melted in my palm, seeping into my skin.

Heart pounding, I watched the transformation with a mix of fear and fascination. The knowledge forced into my brain by the diamond mark finally began to make sense: this gray stone was enhancing my physical abilities.

It was a miraculous substance, its creation and absorption entirely orchestrated by the diamond mark. I had no way to comprehend the exact interaction between the stone and my body, but the effects were undeniable. Within three seconds, the pain from my injuries began to vanish. My muscles felt like inflated tires, taut and resilient, and every sense seemed sharper than ever before.

For a fleeting moment, I believed I could take on the world champion in boxing.

I hefted the axe in my hands; it felt much lighter now—likely not an illusion.

With renewed resolve, I decided to stick to my original plan. If there truly was a key to the iron gate, it was most likely in the area the ghostly dog had been guarding.

Before attacking me, it had been lurking to the right of the corridor. Continuing down that path, I soon spotted a door with a nameplate that read **"Director's Office."**

The door, crooked and ajar, hung precariously by its remaining screws. Its surface was riddled with cracks, giving it a desolate appearance.

Before I even entered, the stench of blood and decay hit me like a wave. My eyes swept over the room. No monsters jumped out, but I was greeted by something even more revolting.

A swarm of flies buzzed like a black cloud at the far end of the hall.

I had braced myself, but the sight of what they were feasting on still made me gag.

Human remains were piled up carelessly like discarded scraps. Some bones were intact, polished white and gleaming, while others had been gnawed into shards. The worst were the half-eaten, rotting limbs and organs, reeking of decay.

I could vividly imagine the ghostly dog lounging here like a pet in a yard, lazily chewing on its grisly spoils.

Among the carnage, I spotted a few tattered school uniforms.

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It was pitiful, so pitiful that it extinguished any desire to give these poor souls a proper burial. I shuddered at the thought of how narrowly I had avoided becoming one of them.

The grotesque scene and overpowering stench nearly overwhelmed me. Clamping my hand over my nose and mouth, I darted around, searching every corner. Passing the pile of remains, I stuck to the far wall as if the bodies might spring to life at any moment.

In a small side room, I found two individual keys and a keyring with sixteen others.

One of the individual keys seemed like a car key, but none looked like they belonged to the iron gate. Frustrated, I rifled through drawers one last time, finding a loaded six-round revolver hidden in a false compartment. With nothing else to gain, I reluctantly headed for the exit.

I tucked the revolver into the waistband of my pants and pulled my shirt over it. The autumn school uniform was a two-piece set with a jacket and an inner shirt, though many students wore the inner shirt alone in warmer weather.

Just as I stepped out of the room, a figure emerged at the stairwell. Startled, I nearly swung my axe, thinking it was another monster. Then I saw her face.

We locked eyes.

To my surprise, it was a strikingly attractive young woman. She looked to be in that ambiguous phase between university student and young professional, brimming with vitality and confidence.

She was dressed in a red tracksuit jacket and black workout leggings. The jacket was unzipped, revealing a white sports bra beneath. Her hair was tied in a high ponytail, her midriff exposed. She had a well-toned figure with radiant skin, exuding a robust, youthful energy.

I couldn't hide my astonishment, and she, too, seemed caught off guard.

“Uh… hello,” I stammered, managing a smile. “It’s a relief to see someone else alive.”

I wasn’t lying. In a place this oppressive, finding another living person was an indescribable joy.

That’s when I remembered what the red-cloaked stranger had said: **“Congratulations, you’re the first to make it through.”**

The first—but not the only one.

Those who came after me likely wouldn’t have to face the ghostly dog. I supposed they could thank me for that.

She stared at me intently, saying nothing.

“Lucky timing,” I blurted. “If you’d come any sooner, it might’ve been trouble.”

Regret washed over me instantly.

The woman took a step back, her posture stiffening as if I were some kind of predator.

“I mean no harm,” I said quickly, stepping back myself. “My name’s Takagawa. You’re the first person I’ve met here who’s still alive.”

“Alive?” She eyed me skeptically.

“Yes,” I said. “Everyone else who’s come here… they’re dead. I’m the only one who survived.”

“You killed them?” Her tone was flat, but the accusation in her gaze was undeniable.

“Of—of course not!” I stammered.

It was a terrible misunderstanding, but considering the circumstances, her suspicion was almost justified. The first person she encountered was a blood-soaked guy wielding an axe, cheerfully declaring, “You’re so lucky—it’s just you and me left.” Who wouldn’t think I was some kind of maniac?

Worse, the real culprit—the ghostly dog—had vanished into a gray stone now absorbed into my body.

Lacking any evidence to exonerate myself, I forced myself to stay calm, speaking as earnestly as I could.

“It wasn’t me. It was a monstrous dog, but I managed to kill it.”

“Is that so…? And where’s the body?” she asked, her tone still skeptical.