The door to the next floor didn't open.
It parted like curtains.
Velvet-red fabric, taller than any wall, swept aside soundlessly as the system's voice rang out—not mechanical this time, but theatrical, echoing with drama and cruelty.
[Welcome to Floor 5: The Painted Theater]
"The world is a stage, and everyone plays their part. The question is—who gave you your script?"
Ayato stepped forward, heart pounding.
'I don't trust this place. Not anymore. Everything feels like a trap.'
The group emerged into a vast theater. Gilded balconies lined the upper walls, and the ceiling was painted with stars that moved when no one looked directly at them. The air smelled like old wood, dust, and rotting roses.
The stage at the center gleamed under shifting spotlights.
But there was no audience.
Only mirrors. Again.
Ayato's stomach twisted.
'Not again. Not more mind games.'
A notification flashed before him.
[Objective: Uncover the Impostor Player among you.
Timer: 6 Hours
Warning: False accusations result in karma loss.
Bonus Objective: Deliver a Perfect Performance.
Note: Every student will receive a secret role.]
A small scroll appeared in Ayato's hand.
[Your Role: The Watcher]
"You cannot be deceived by illusions. But you also cannot act directly.
Influence the play, and survive to the final scene."
He crushed the scroll in his hand and looked up.
"So this floor is theater, trial, and social game all at once."
Yui gasped softly beside him. Ren scanned the empty rows of chairs, hand twitching near his blade. Mio calmly tied her hair back into a tight bun.
"This isn't a fight," she said. "It's a performance."
Ayato swallowed.
'I hate this. I hate not knowing who to trust.'
Without warning, the lights dimmed.
The group was suddenly on stage, standing in place as if they'd rehearsed it for weeks. Heavy curtains behind them, a painted village backdrop before them.
Their outfits changed.
Ayato wore a scholar's robes. Mio a noblewoman's dress. Ren had a hunter's cloak slung across his shoulder. Yui was dressed like a grieving widow. The final classmate, Kazuki Mori, wore a jester's garb.
Ayato blinked.
"Kazuki? You made it this far?"
Kazuki smiled—but it was hollow.
"Everyone plays their part," he said quietly. "Even the forgotten."
A bell rang overhead.
Then the play began.
Lines appeared in Ayato's mind like memories. His mouth moved before he could think.
"What tragedy has befallen our village, Lady Mireille?" he heard himself say, voice unfamiliar.
Mio—now "Mireille"—answered smoothly.
"A stranger has arrived, bearing omens and lies."
Ayato's chest tightened.
'This isn't a play. It's a test. A trap.'
Every scene twisted itself around their real identities, casting subtle shadows of the truth.
Scene 1: A false memory—where Yui had to accuse Ren of betrayal.
Yui's voice shook as she spoke her lines.
"You turned your back on us, Hunter. Why?"
Ren's face darkened.
"Because you left me no choice, Widow."
Ayato watched, his heart aching.
'They're not themselves. The system is making them say things.'
Scene 2: Kazuki begged Ayato to forgive a sin he hadn't committed—yet Ayato could feel the future guilt.
"Please, forgive me," Kazuki whispered, eyes wide and desperate.
Ayato wanted to help, but the script forced him to remain cold.
"Forgiveness is not mine to give, Fool."
Scene 3: Mio offered a crown to Ayato. If he accepted, his karma would spike.
"Take it, Scholar," she said, voice soft. "Rule with me."
Ayato hesitated, then shook his head.
"I cannot."
The system was rewriting their narrative, line by line, to provoke collapse.
'These scenes aren't random. They're pulled from us. Our fears. Our regrets.'
The painted background flickered.
In the fifth scene, a new actor appeared.
They all recognized her.
Aya Nakamura.
She had died on Floor One.
But here she was—alive, smiling, graceful in her movements as she played the role of the "oracle."
Yui stepped back, visibly shaken.
"She's dead," she whispered. "We saw her die."
Aya turned her head, smiled, and said:
"Death is just a role. You'll learn that soon."
Ayato's [Watcher] role flared.
His vision flickered—and Aya's form wavered.
Not a ghost.
A projection. An illusion.
But powered by someone real.
He scanned the group, narrowing his eyes. Kazuki. Yui. Ren. Mio. One of them had summoned her.
'Who's playing the system's game? Who's the impostor?'
Then came the system message:
[Scene 7: The Betrayal]
"Name the Impostor. Only one accusation allowed per person. Success ends the floor. Failure costs one life."
The lights dimmed.
Heartbeat silence.
Ayato spoke.
"Kazuki."
Everyone turned.
"He's the only one who's never been seen in a major event. Yet the system gave him a role here. A visible, interfering one."
Kazuki looked surprised. Then he grinned.
"Too late."
The stage shattered.
The theater fell away into darkness—then reassembled itself as an opera house aflame. Audience seats filled with distorted shadows. Kazuki's jester outfit shifted into black robes laced with silver.
He wasn't the impostor.
He was the Proxy.
Boss Fight: Proxy Kazuki (Phase 1)
He pointed upward, and strings descended—attaching to Yui, Mio, and Ren like puppets.
"Let's rewrite the tragedy, shall we?" he purred.
"You're the system's pawn," Ayato shouted, blade drawn.
Kazuki laughed. "I'm what happens when someone stops pretending the game is fair."
Ayato lunged.
Kazuki danced back, puppet strings tightening.
Ren turned—eyes glowing red.
Controlled.
"Kill the Watcher," Kazuki ordered.
Mini-Battle: Ayato vs. Controlled Ren
Ayato held back—dodging, countering, refusing to strike.
'He's not the enemy. Not yet.'
He used [Karma Pulse] to disrupt the strings instead—one by one, they snapped.
Ren collapsed, gasping, free.
Yui slashed her own tether. Mio burned hers with fire magic.
[Kazuki HP: 40%]
Ayato threw a dagger laced with corruption.
Kazuki caught it—grinning.
"See you on Floor 8, Observer."
He vanished into smoke.
Floor Cleared
The stage melted. The fire died.
They stood again in the Tower hub, breathless.
[Floor 5: Painted Theater – Complete]
Karma Updated. Roles Logged. New System Ability Unlocked: [Divine Script]
Ayato opened his palm.
A single glowing thread hovered above it.
'You can now influence a scene's outcome once per floor.'
Yui sat down hard. "That… wasn't a floor. That was a lie."
Ren didn't speak. He just stared at his hands, face pale.
Mio looked at Ayato.
"He wasn't lying about Floor 8."
Ayato nodded. "He's planning something worse."
The lights of the hub flickered.
And for the first time, the system spoke directly to Ayato—alone, in his mind.
"Observer… your stage is ending soon. Will you play god, or die an actor?"
Ayato clenched his fists.
'I don't want to be a god. I just want to survive.'
He looked at his friends—Yui, Ren, Mio.
They were all exhausted. Scared. Broken.
Mio sat beside him. "You okay?"
Ayato shrugged. "No. But it doesn't matter."
She frowned. "It matters to me."
Ren finally spoke, voice rough. "What the hell was that? Why did Kazuki turn on us?"
Yui shook her head. "He was already gone. The system got to him."
Ayato nodded. "He was the Proxy. The system's puppet. It wanted us to turn on each other."
Mio sighed. "It always does."
Silence fell. The hub room felt smaller than ever. The air was thick with tension and fear.
Ayato closed his eyes.
'How much more can we take? How many more floors? How many more friends will we lose?'
He thought about Kazuki's last words.
'See you on Floor 8, Observer.'
'What's waiting for us there?'
Mio nudged him. "You're thinking too much."
Ayato almost smiled. "That's my job, remember? The Watcher."
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, even Watchers need to sleep."
Ren groaned. "I could sleep for a year. Or eat a burger. Or both."
Yui managed a weak laugh. "You and me both."
Ayato looked at them—his friends, his only family now.
'I have to protect them. Even if it means carrying the weight alone.'
He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes.
He didn't sleep.
He just listened—to the others' breathing, to the hum of the dungeon, to the whispers in his own head.
'You're not a hero. You're just a kid. A kid who's seen too much. Done too much.'
He opened his eyes. The numbers above their heads flickered—rising, falling, never stable.
'Karma's not private anymore. Judgments are coming faster.'
Mio was watching him, her eyes tired but steady.
"We'll get through this," she said softly.
Ayato nodded. "Yeah. We will."
He didn't know if he believed it.
But he wanted to.
And for now, that was enough.
(Chapter 12 End)