The bus station was so silent it looked like an abandoned stage set. The sun had hidden behind the buildings of Tokyo, staining the clouds with a dirty purple that mixed with the city's smoke.
Josuke Hachimizu stood by the platform, one hand resting on his military duffel bag. The campaign uniform hung from his shoulders like a weight he couldn't shake off, even though the army had discharged him that morning.
He was twenty-two years old. Six of those years had been swallowed by the war.
Six years in which he had seen too many comrades die and had felt the blade of fear slice his soul night after night.
As he climbed onto the bus, Josuke allowed himself a deep sigh, as if he feared even that gesture was forbidden. He sat at one of the seats in the back, propped the bag against his leg, and pulled out a battered notebook, covered with a blue print that had completely faded.
A diary.
His only constant since he had been forced to join the army at sixteen. In it, he wrote every thought he didn't dare say out loud. Every dream he hadn't yet given up on.
He opened the cover and, with a firm yet trembling hand, wrote:
To get a girlfriend. I feel like I wasted my life on the army's nonsense, all because of my family.
A spasm of rage clenched his jaw. His face felt so hot he swore it might burst like a pressure cooker.
—And all because of my stupid family, who wanted to get rid of me— he muttered, an acid gleam in his eyes —They think that just because they're wealthy, they can do whatever they damn well please…
A memory pierced him with the precision of a bullet.
Him, sixteen years old, sitting on another military bus. His father, his mother, his three siblings waving goodbye with postcard smiles.
His mother raising her hand with theatrical tenderness:
—Take care, my darling! We'll miss you!
Lies.
All of it was a lie.
The vehicle pulled away, tearing from him the last shred of innocence.
Josuke blinked, forcing the memory out. The bus finally reached Tokyo's central station. He got off with tense steps, dragging his duffel while a small, broken smile formed on his lips. Tiny tears slid down his cheeks and fell onto the asphalt, sparkling like embers in the dusk.
—To hell with them— he whispered, relieved —Those hypocrites I call family… I'm going to start over. I'm going to be an independent adult.
He took the elevator up to his apartment, hand clutching his phone. He checked the bank balance: an exorbitant figure, the product of years of service and promotions earned by missions that had nearly killed him.
—At least I have to admit…— he said as the doors closed —that in some way, it was worth it. With all this money, I won't have to kill myself working or depend on anyone…
A message notification lit up the screen. It was from his sister.
I'm sorry, Josuke, I won't be able to come pick you up. I have to keep helping Dad with the company.
Josuke ground his teeth.
—Yeah, sure… But you had time to fly to Hawaii on the same day, didn't you…
When he arrived at his apartment—a luxurious floor he'd bought in advance, anticipating his retirement—he collapsed onto the sofa, feeling for the first time in years a flicker of peace.
—At least here…— he murmured —No one will tell me what to do.
He stayed there a long while, staring at the ceiling. When night fell, Josuke turned on his computer. The room was decorated with anime figures, video game posters, and a tower of empty energy drink cans. He settled into his chair, opened the digital library, and selected the game he had been waiting a week to try.
An open-world RPG. Hyper-realistic graphics. An epic story of survival and conquest.
Everything he needed to forget the war.
As soon as he started playing, he felt absorbed. For hours, he explored dungeons, gathered resources, leveled up. Time turned liquid.
Until a pop-up window appeared on the screen:
I see you are enjoying this open-world RPG adventure game. That's why we have a special gift for you. We will update our server. Please click: [Update].
Josuke raised an eyebrow.
—A gift? Well…— He moved the mouse and clicked "Update."
A new message appeared:
This update may take a long time. We recommend you go to sleep or do something else. Please do not close the game.
—What a weird way to say you have to wait— he laughed with infinite exhaustion —Give a raise to whoever wrote this…
He looked around the desk covered in trash. His eyelids weighed like lead.
—I'm… so… tired…
Darkness swallowed him as his forehead gently bumped the keyboard.
He didn't know how much time passed. When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in his room.
He was standing on a white expanse of light, surrounded by hundreds of people whose bodies looked like luminous, faceless silhouettes.
—What…? Where am I?— he stammered.
A man in celestial robes descended, floating. His voice echoed like a distant choir.
—I welcome you, my dear Transported.
—Transported?— Josuke felt a chill —Does that mean we're dead?
—No— said the messenger —You have not died. You will not reincarnate as in the stories you read. You are here because you have been granted the privilege of being transported to worlds that need order.
A translucent window appeared before his eyes:
[Host leveling… Statistics… Notifications… System successfully integrated.]
—This…— he swallowed —This must be a system.
—That system will assist you— the messenger continued —It will allow you to survive. If you fulfill your mission, you may return. If you prefer, you may stay.
The messenger raised an arm.
—But not all of you will go to the same world. You will be divided into groups, so it depends on you, dear souls.
Josuke felt his stomach twist.
—First he calls us transported… now he says we're souls…— he thought —I'm more convinced I'm dead…
—I wish you luck on your journey— said the messenger —Be worthy of this honor.
A burning light rose like a whirlwind. Josuke felt himself torn from the ground.
—I can't wait…— he said with a trembling smile —Maybe… I can rebuild my life…
But when he regained his vision, he was standing in a black wasteland. The air reeked of sulfur. The sky glowed red like an open wound.
—Where… am I…?
A notification appeared:
[Host update complete.]
[Crimson Oni Mask successfully bonded to host.]
—Crimson Mask…?
A red blade materialized in his hand, throbbing like a living heart. Another notification appeared:
[Blood System initiation complete.]
Suddenly, something fleshy unfurled and covered his mouth. Josuke screamed, clawing at his face, trying to tear it off. It was useless. It felt fused to his skin.
[Mission: Hunt 4 demonic wolves and drink their blood. 0/4.]
[Time limit: 48 hours.]
[Penalty: Loss of humanity and complete control of the body.]
—W-what…? If I don't obey… I'll turn into… into a monster?
A growl interrupted him. Behind him, four wolves with black fur and red eyes prowled closer.
—I-is this for real?
One of them lunged like lightning. The slash opened his arm in a single blow. Blood splattered across his face.
The system spoke in his mind, its tone icy:
[Location: Seventh Underworld.]
Josuke clutched the wound, feeling the sticky heat of his own blood.
—What kind of world have they thrown me into…?
And as the wolves approached, the mask began to throb.
The air of the Seventh Underworld grew heavier as the demonic wolves launched themselves at Josuke in a pack, like a swarm of red-fanged shadows.
The first pounced on his chest, slamming him down onto the cracked black ground. The second tore into his shoulder with its claws, while a third sank its teeth into his leg with a savage pressure that ripped a scream of pure pain from his throat.
Josuke could barely breathe. Every attempt to shove them off felt like trying to move his body under ten tons of searing steel. The gravity here was absurd, oppressive, designed to crush the last scrap of hope.
—AHHH! Get… off me!— he screamed, his voice breaking.
Desperate, he swung the blood blade in a horizontal slash. The edge sliced only air and a tuft of black fur. The wolves were too fast. Their jaws clamped onto his arm again, teeth sinking all the way to the bone.
A cold, emotionless notification flickered in his vision:
[SUGGESTION: The host should visualize the creatures' levels to assess strategic information.]
—What good… is seeing their level… if I can't even… touch them?!— he shouted, his face red with rage and pain.
Blood covered his hands. Each second, he felt his consciousness flicker a little more. He clenched his teeth and gathered all his strength to push himself up, forcing his knees and chest to lift him however they could.
The wolves stepped back a pace. He began to run, stumbling, leaving a trail of crimson droplets across the underworld rock.
The landscape warped with red gleams. The moon, split into four fragments, burned overhead like a mad eye. Every breath felt like inhaling dust and fire.
—Damned place… damned monsters— he muttered as he limped, dragging his wounded leg.
Suddenly, the ground collapsed beneath his boots. He fell into a black hole that opened without warning. The impact knocked the air from his lungs. He didn't have time to get up: one of the wolves lunged at him with a savage roar.
Pure instinct made Josuke raise the blade. The edge sank into the beast's skull, cracking it with a disgusting snap. The Crimson Oni Mask spread over his mouth. A thick torrent of demonic blood erupted in a violent stream, flooding down his throat like a burning river.
—AAAGH!! So… disgusting!!— he shuddered in revulsion as the corpse slumped down.
A red notification flashed in his retina:
[BLOOD SYSTEM MISSION: Progress 1/4.]
[30 blood points acquired.]
He wiped the blood off his chin, trembling in pure disgust.
—At least… I killed one…
But there was no time for relief. Three more wolves slipped into the pit with a hungry growl. Their red eyes glowed like embers.
Josuke raised the blade.
—Come on!
Then he remembered the system's recommendation and narrowed his eyes, activating information vision. A floating frame described the enemies in crimson letters:
[Species: Demonic Wolf]
[Level: 3]
[Rank: A+]
—Level three… but A+ rank? What kind of unbalanced system is this…?— he muttered, wiping blood from his split lip —Doesn't matter! I'll survive… no matter what!
When the first wolf lunged at him, Josuke dodged by a hair. For an instant, his body felt lighter. The blade struck the wolf's side, cleaving it in two. The mask devoured the blood eagerly.
Another notification:
[30 blood points acquired.]
Something changed inside him. His muscles tightened with new strength. His pulse grew faster.
—Is this… because of the blood I absorbed?— he said, a savage gleam in his eyes.
He didn't waste another moment. He lunged at the other two wolves, chaining blows and slashes. Each attack landed truer. The blade became almost an extension of his rage and survival instinct.
—Interesting…— he stroked his blood-smeared chin —If I boost these… my level should rise too…
He opened the Host Level section. A single number made his breath catch.
[Host Level: 0]
Josuke's jaw dropped.
—L… level… zero…— his voice cracked —How the hell…? I killed all those monsters! This should be worth dozens of levels!!
Furious, he pressed to spend all his blood points. The screen flickered… and flashed an error message:
[Host Leveling System Failure.]
—NO…!!— Josuke punched the ground —What kind of sick joke is this?!
He needed to reach level 10 to unlock the portal out of this hell. But his level remained a damn zero.
—Calm down… calm down, Josuke…— he told himself, his voice broken —It must be… a temporary error.
He clenched his teeth. His breathing rasped like a broken engine. He stared into the red horizon of the underworld.
—I'll keep killing monsters… keep collecting points… this will fix itself…— he promised, though deep inside a shadow of doubt was strangling his hope.
He gripped the blood blade and started walking. The mask throbbed against his jaw, pulsing like a diseased heart.
But even if he wanted to believe it would be temporary, it never truly was.
Weeks passed. Months, perhaps. Time was a blurry idea in that abyss.
Josuke became a hunter of nightmares. He fought entire packs of demonic wolves, hell spiders that spewed burning venom, crimson birds that blotted out the sky like an eclipse. He even faced the Wolf King, a colossal monster with a level near 80.
But his level never rose above zero.
His blade grew sharper. His body tougher. His senses keener.
But his soul… was slowly emptying, as if the mask was drinking something more than blood.
And even if he killed a hundred times more… even if he became the strongest beast in the Seventh Underworld… he was still trapped.