You’re Telling Me This Is a Slice-of-Life?

Decisive, ruthless, and yet, there was nothing to nitpick.

In times of danger, prioritizing the survival of the majority was only logical—rescuing the most valuable asset took precedence.

Taking Sakurajima Mai and leaving the burden that was Hayasaka Ai made perfect sense. Having Yuuki continue fighting, as he was already assigned to the decoy role, was the most stable approach.

The place was crawling with ghoul. Hesitation in such a moment was unacceptable. Even if those two were sacrificed, it was still better than total annihilation.

“But I’ve been suspicious of you for a while now—copying my tactics, huh?”

Yuuki’s plan was impeccable, but coincidence and logic were the real problems. The timing of the gunshot was too perfect, forcing him to take only one person and locking him into the most “correct” answer.

Tat-tat-tat.

The last few bullets fired as the rancid stench of decay reached him. Yuuki didn’t have time to think. He ducked through a hole, pressed his palm against the wire mesh, and activated reinforcement magic.

Boom!

Dozens of ghouls slammed into the barrier, bending the thick iron wires slightly. They clawed madly at the mesh, just a step away from him.

Yuuki glanced at the grotesque faces crammed against the fence. Without a change in expression, he took half a step back and grabbed Hayasaka Ai’s wrist.

“Move!”

The ghouls inside the tunnel were temporarily blocked, but more were swarming onto the highway. Robert had clearly stopped shooting, directing all their attention toward Yuuki instead.

“Where are we running to?”

“The bridge. That bastard Li Dan at least left me an escape tool,” Yuuki said, sprinting along the embankment. One hand dragged Hayasaka Ai while the other reloaded his magazine. But he knew—this wasn’t some act of kindness.

Leaving no way out—what if he ends up following after them? And what would Sakurajima Mai think after being ‘rescued’ by him?

Yuuki slung his rifle over his back and drew his blade, cutting down two ghouls in his path before dashing up the bridge. His heart pounded in his chest, but his mind sharpened.

Even if the castle kept spawning enemies, there was no way a few hours could flood an entire city. The bridge was packed with abandoned vehicles, and only a few scattered ghouls wandered between them—no horde, for now.

But looking back, the barricade had already been pushed down. The ghouls from both the railway and the highway merged into a single, surging black tide. Like a cafeteria opening for lunch, they sprinted forward, a wave of bodies crashing onto the bridge.

“Stay close. Ignore the sides.”

Yuuki released the blonde girl’s hand, took his gun in one hand and his blade in the other, then leapt onto a car’s trunk, raising his pistol.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

At close range, his shots were precise. Confirming that Hayasaka Ai was following, he jumped onto the next car’s roof.

Slash!

A quick stroke severed several grasping arms. The height difference between the car roofs and the ground meant that any climbing ghouls were cut down before they could reach him. He saw more crawling up from the sides but ignored them, focusing only on moving forward.

Jump, land, shatter skulls—his body dipped as clawed hands swiped overhead. A swift counter-slash severed several legs. Then, like a coiled spring, he leapt up, pressing his gun against a ghoul’s forehead.

Boom!

Brains splattered, clearing the way ahead. Yuuki sprang onto the hood of a truck, biting down on his blade as he climbed higher, reaching back to pull Hayasaka Ai up with him.

From this vantage point, the ghouls couldn’t reach them immediately, instead surrounding the truck, stretching their hands upward like crazed fans at a concert. When Yuuki turned back, he saw the horde had completely engulfed the bridge.

They ran at full speed, their arms flailing, stepping over their own fallen to surge forward. From a distance, they looked like dark waves rolling and crashing.

“Pull the pins. Throw them in front of the horde.”

Used to being chased by now, Yuuki casually tossed two grenades to Hayasaka Ai while drawing his grappling gun, aiming at the apartment complex on the bridge’s left.

A troubled look flashed across Hayasaka Ai’s face. Gritting her teeth, she yanked the pin and threw it.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

As the black cable shot out, the grenades detonated, igniting the tightly packed cars. A wall of fire roared to life.

The ghouls hesitated for a moment, then burning bodies lunged forward, setting off another wave of chaos further ahead.

Explosions, fire, wails, and roars merged into a violent, hellish landscape.

Hayasaka Ai, breathing heavily, grabbed onto the cable first. The mutated item acted like an escalator, pulling her toward safety.

Yuuki was a bit slower, throwing a few more grenades for good measure before leaping up to grip the rope.

He ignored Li Dan’s suggestion to jump off the bridge and regroup. Instead, he used the item’s unusual properties to ascend.

Boom!

A truck, weighing several dozen tons, was overturned by the sheer force of the horde. Seeing their prey “flying through the air,” the ghouls leapt after them without hesitation.

They trampled over vehicles, crashed through railings, and flung themselves skyward—only to be yanked down by gravity, slamming into the pavement below.

Splat.

The gap between the bridge and the apartment was over ten meters, a chasm swallowing the ghousl. Their bodies cracked open on impact, splattering the ground like crushed watermelons, releasing a nauseating stench. Some, missing limbs, still squirmed—only to be flattened by the next wave of falling corpses.

It was a grotesque masterpiece of death.

Even Yuuki felt his stomach churn. He quickly pushed off a railing, landing on the apartment rooftop, then ran alongside Hayasaka Ai toward the far side.

“If we escape the battle and stay away from the ghoul, we won’t get swarmed. This isn’t the castle—there’s far more room to maneuver.”

“And then? Are we heading to the coordinates Li Dan gave us?”

“No. That explosion was loud enough to draw every ghoul within several kilometers. We just bought ourselves some temporary safety.”

“You’re not going to save her?”

Yuuki didn’t answer. He just fired a grappling hook toward the next rooftop. As he soared through the night sky, he scanned the city—nothing but silence.

The earlier chaos had drawn every ghoul to one place. Even with the Red Moon’s influence, the night was far safer than the day.

[Maybe this is what the difficulty should have been all along. New players who can think and step out of their comfort zones should have a chance to survive.]

He thought to himself. The first dungeon was often about identity—those who adapted to the game’s rules were allowed to stay. It wasn’t meant to drive all veterans to the brink of desperation.

[This was my doing, but also yours. Since we both want to shift the difficulty back to normal, let’s see who plays the game better.]

Using their tools, Yuuki and Hayasaka Ai moved swiftly across the district. They slowed their pace only after the last of the ghoul wails faded into the distance.

…

They arrived at the rooftop of a shopping mall, where the open view allowed them to see the small plaza below and the surrounding residential area. The buildings around them were five- to six-story walk-ups, their outer walls weathered and aged.

“Let’s rest for a bit.” Yuuki glanced at Hayasaka Ai, who was panting with her hands on her knees, then pulled a tablet from her backpack.

It was one of the information terminals taken from SWAT. On the massive city map, only a single, lonely blue dot flickered.

“When are we rescuing her?” Hayasaka Ai asked for the second time, her persistence unwavering.

“Three kilometers away in a straight line. Still stationary. Li Dan is probably trying to win her over. There haven’t been any death notifications in this dungeon, so they have no idea whether we’re dead or alive.”

“So Li Dan becomes her only hope? Makes sense. If we really died, Mai wouldn’t have any other choice but to obey. That way, both friendship and survival instinct are satisfied.” Hayasaka Ai let out a cold, mocking smile before pressing further,

“But there’s one thing I don’t understand. Why would Li Dan need to choose between Mai and you? Haven’t you proven your value enough?”

“Because he’s not stupid. He’s probably guessed that the ridiculous difficulty of this dungeon is tied to me and wants to try adjusting it. As for why he’s wary of me—I don’t know. Maybe he had a terrible experience in a past mission, or maybe he has some kind of ability that lets him sense I’ve never trusted him.”

Yuuki looked up at the crimson moon. He didn’t have mind-reading abilities; some things could only be guessed.

[Logically speaking, a genius rookie should be someone worth recruiting. His wariness likely came from past experiences. Or, in other words, my existence poses more of a threat than a benefit.]

“So it really is because of you. Honestly, your performance has been absurd enough that I’d be suspicious too.” Hayasaka Ai snorted and spread her hands in resignation. “Too bad I’ve already boarded your pirate ship. No turning back now.”

“Pirate ship? Like I had a choice either. Who wouldn’t want to just lie down and take it easy?” Yuuki rolled his eyes at her, gripping the railing and gazing into the distance. He lowered his voice. “My presence isn’t actually the main issue. At this point, even if they chopped me into pieces, all it would do is slightly adjust the difficulty—it wouldn’t fix the real problem.”

One more day. One long night. The base difficulty had already stacked too high. Patching things up now was too late.

“So that’s why he didn’t openly turn against you?” Hayasaka Ai frowned. Yuuki hadn’t acted exactly as planned earlier, but overall, he had completed the cover operation. And the three of them had been playing the obedient role all along—whether out of fear or necessity.

As long as they regrouped, they could still return to the original course.

“You already said it yourself—he made his choice. If he still intended to use us, he would’ve come to meet us. Instead, he hurriedly took Mai away. Unless, in his mind, we’re already dead.”

“So we blew our cover? He realized you were always on guard and lost patience?” Hayasaka Ai offered the most logical explanation.

“This has nothing to do with us, and even less to do with our acting skills. He just wants to survive and squeeze every last drop of value from his resources. The dungeon is too difficult—when your own survival is at stake, there’s no time to play childish games. Especially when a wildcard like me isn’t under his control.” Yuuki turned around, his expression cold and calculating.

“Besides, think about it—Mai’s ability is strong, but she herself is fragile. She can’t change the tide of battle, let alone guarantee his survival.”

Twenty minutes of duration was too short. She had little combat ability on her own, and once her ability went on cooldown, she became a burden.

“You mean…” Hayasaka Ai’s icy-blue pupils contracted.

“Yeah. Unless what he wants isn’t the person—it’s the trait.”

Clap, clap, clap.

Before the words had fully settled, a slow round of applause echoed through the rooftop. Both Yuuki and Hayasaka Ai stiffened, instinctively turning toward the entrance.

Under the scarlet moon, a man in a leather jacket sat cross-legged, his short hair tousled by the night breeze, a streak of red dye standing out among the strands. His right hand was raised—gripping a weapon.

A crimson chainsaw greatsword!