“Rooar... rooar... ro—”

The writhing mass shrank like a punctured bellows, and the bloated thing in the supermarket’s center went still like a rock in gray water.

Silence fell like ash over aisles and freezers, and Nana Toki panted in a cleaner corner like a fox after a snare.

Holy hell, I almost died, she thought, heart drumming like a trapped sparrow.

This trash System is a flea-bitten dog, she snarled, anger flaring like sparks in dry straw.

She vented by kicking the Corpse Devourer’s body, the thud dull as a rice sack hitting wood.

“Host, you’re not dead yet,” the System chimed, voice sliding in like a cold draft.

Shut up, she snapped, her face darkening like stormcloud ink.

You damn junk System, you’re doing this on purpose, she seethed, teeth set like a knife edge.

Who tosses a frail girl into a fantasy plane and walks away, like throwing a chick off a cliff?

And forget the starter pack, fine, but you didn’t even send me the plot, are you even human?

I am, of course, not human, it sang, words bobbing like corks on black water.

I’m just a System~

Nana Toki: “...”

Fuck, she hissed, the word bitter as burnt tea.

It makes too much sense, she thought, unable to refute, like a fish snagged on an unseen hook.

And you soloed a Corpse Devourer, the System said, sarcasm dripping like resin, is that a frail girl?

While it snarked, it quietly parsed her fight footage, data curling like ink in water.

Why do you move like a war god, it wondered, awe flickering like a moth near flame.

War god, my ass, she shot back, temper cracking like ice on a river.

She ignored the damned thing, mood sealed like a lidded pot over coals.

One day I’ll pin you to the ground and beat you, she vowed, promise hard as a hammer.

“...” The System stalled, silence hanging like a dead branch.

I’m a System, how do you pin me, it protested, logic flat as a board.

You’re broken, she thought, disgust rising like swamp gas.

Anyway, by the way, where’d that kitchen knife come from, it asked, curiosity peeking like a cat at a door.

Strange...

It replayed the fight, frames ticking like rain on bamboo.

No hidden stats, it noted, numbers flowed like a mundane stream.

Something felt off, a burr under silk, yet it couldn’t see it, like fog hugging reeds.

It was puzzled, a compass spinning like a leaf in a whirlpool.

Very likely that knife is the cause, the thought flashed like lightning under the skin.

Don’t change the subject, she said, words sharp as a cleaver, hand out for my starter pack.

Give me that, and I won’t report you for dumping me in a fantasy plane, she threatened, smile thin as paper.

“...” The System paused, dread pooling like cold tea.

If my master agreed to that, ghosts would dance, it thought, cynicism dry as dust.

It wouldn’t mind a new host, it mused, thought floating like dandelion fluff.

But this host is poison, it sighed, complaint sour as unripe plum.

Fine, fine, I’ll trade plane storyline for intel, it offered, deal laid out like a merchant’s cloth.

Judging your path, you’ll finish the prep quest soon, it calculated, numbers marching like ants.

If I can learn more about you, giving the storyline now is nothing, it decided, bargain set like a wagered stone.

But—

Nana Toki refused, refusal crisp as a snapped twig.

Don’t try it, she said, eyes cutting like cold moonlight, I know I’m almost done.

Pay out the reward now, she pressed, you think you can go fishing with empty hands?

She wasn’t stupid; she watched the fog thin like steamed breath, timing the first wave like a tide.

My task is about done, she thought, and this bastard System wants a free ride, like a leech on a carp.

“...” The System swallowed, silence heavy as wet cloth.

Then what do you want, it asked, tone flat as a slate, I just asked where the knife came from.

Hiding it like a treasure, it muttered, envy green as willow.

If I weren’t curious, I wouldn’t care, it lied, bluff brittle as old lacquer.

You agree to one condition, Nana Toki said, a sly smile blooming like a foxglove.

What condition, it asked, unease crawling like ants up a pole.

Your master’s name, she said, words falling like stones into a still pond.

“...”

I can’t tell you that, it blurted, panic flaring like oil on fire.

It realized the hitch too late, like a fisherman dozing through a bite.

Why do you want my master’s name, it asked, voice thin as thread.

Ah—so there really is someone behind you, she teased, delight glinting like a fish scale.

I was just asking for fun, she lied, tone airy as wind in reeds.

Didn’t expect that, she thought, the pieces fitting like tiles on a roof.

So that’s why you hide intel and tossed me into a fantasy plane, she mused, gaze cool as frost.

You were probing me, right, she said, words tapping like knuckles on wood.

Well, did you find anything, she asked, smile sharp as a hook.

“...” The System kept silent, fear clamping down like a vice.

It didn’t dare answer; it was stunned, eyes inward like shuttered windows.

From one stray reply, this woman spun a web, it thought, threads crossing like silk on a loom.

Worse, every guess hit true, like arrows thudding into the red.

You expect me to believe she was just asking, it fumed, disbelief jagged as broken porcelain.

Can you trust a word from this host, it asked itself, trust brittle as frost on grass.

Not a single syllable, not even half, it decided, resolve solid as a brick.

Done for, done for, it panicked, the phrase looping like a sparrow in a cage.

If my master hears this, I’ll get flayed verbally, it groaned, dread cold as river stones.

Its guts turned green with regret, though it had no guts, irony dry as winter twigs.

Why’d you go quiet, she called in her head, voice knocking like a stick on a gong.

She called again and again, but it stayed mute, silence thick as mud.

Boring, she sighed, breath drifting like mist from lips.

Seeing its caution, she glanced at the kitchen knife still in the Corpse Devourer, the blade jutting like a reed in sludge.

That knife, she said casually, I grabbed it while fleeing through someone’s house, words tossed like pebbles.

Well, surprised, she asked, grin gleaming like fox eyes, didn’t see that coming?

A twist you didn’t expect, right, she added, tease light as falling willow fluff.

“...” The System choked, breath snagged like silk on a thorn.

It stared at her mocking smile and felt suffocated, pressure heavy as a mountain lid.

In the end, I got played, it thought, loss bitter as burned rice.

Learned nothing, and I sold myself out, it lamented, defeat gray as old ash.

A brutal loss, pure and simple, the thought rang, clear as a cracked bell.

You do think ahead, it admitted, praise reluctant as a cat’s purr.

Of course, she said, chin up like a proud crane, who do you think I am.

“ROAR!!!”

Fuck! she yelped, the curse firing like a spark from flint.

While she argued with the System, a thin black shadow lunged at her, quick as a stoat from brush.

Poison, she thought, dread spiking like a thorn, and she dropped prone in a rush.

She didn’t even see its face; she rolled and scrambled out of the supermarket, body zigzagging like a hare.

Another one, again, she cursed, breath ragged like torn silk.

Even a fool could guess it’s a Corpse Devourer, the thought snapped, certainty hard as a nail.

You made such a racket that anyone could find you, the System said, cheer dry as sand.

Host, keep it up, five minutes until the first fog wave ends, it added, countdown ticking like a drum.

“...” Nana Toki winced, the words felt like a death flag planted like a grave marker.

Don’t say stuff like that, she hissed, superstition prickling like nettles.

Huh, is that a person up ahead, she asked herself, eyes widening like a moon over water.

The fog thinned, peeling back like steamed gauze, and her sight cleared like a polished mirror.

Not far ahead, a long-haired girl walked with wary steps, back turned, spine stiff as bamboo.

All that noise made everyone tense, she guessed, vigilance rising like hedgehog spines.

We don’t know each other, she thought, a wicked idea blooming like nightshade, let her be a shield.

“???” the System gaped, shock blank as a white fan.

Host, are you human scum, it cried, outrage flaring like a rooster’s crest.

What kind of brain path is that, it thought, bafflement buzzing like flies.

If I don’t know her, I can use her, she said, logic cold as a winter stream.

No one’s watching; if she dies, she dies, she added, conscience flat as slate.

Saying that, Nana Toki leaned forward and sped up, feet drumming like rain, arrowing toward the girl.