Bloodscript: Survival Game of the Reborn のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 81 - チャプター 90

The bell’s echo hadn’t even faded before Selene moved.She vanished sideways—not literally - but fast enough that my eyes had to catch up. One heartbeat she was in front of me, the next she was a smear of motion slipping between two mirror‑slabs, crown thorns glinting as she cut a sharp angle.Her weapon unfolded as she went.Segments slid free with a metallic whisper, a straight length becoming something more sinuous and obscene. Blades bloomed along its spine, each one hooked like a predator’s tooth. The metal drank the arena light and gave it back as a dark, oil‑slick gleam.She slashed the air once.Shadow bled from the cut.It wasn’t a metaphor.A line of darkness ripped across the space between us—too fast to be just speed - is too wrong to be just a trick of light. It bent around one of the nearest mirrors instead of reflecting, curving like something alive.I dove.The shadow‑slash screamed past where my throat had been a second earlier and hit a blade‑pillar behind me. Metal

The bell split the air. Maria flinched. Jax didn’t. He took one step forward, staff low, hands open along its length like he was approaching a skittish animal, not a woman holding a knife. “Don’t,” I whispered, but it was for both of them. The crowd roared, a living tide of sound crashing down, chanting the same word the system had just used: “FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT.” “I’m not doing this,” Maria said, voice already fraying. She shook her head, backing up a step. “I won’t—” “You will,” the Game corrected pleasantly. “OR BOTH DIE.” The last words boomed, letters ten feet tall across every hovering screen. My hand spasmed around the pen. *Safe‑out,* I thought wildly. *Misfire. Glitch. A trap that opens under both of them and dumps them belowstage. A drone malfunction. A fire alarm. Anything.* I grabbed for the world the way I had in every other arena—the floor, the air, the countdown numbers—feeling for a loose seam. Nothing budged. The stone under my boots could

The game didn’t stop at the crash.It rewound and zoomed and replayed, like it had all the time in the world and no shame at all.On the main screen, the impact played again in slow motion: truck’s grille filling the windshield, my hands jerking on the wheel, my mouth open in a sound the dash‑cam never captured Glass was suspended in the air like a halo of knives.Tiny text in the corner read:ORIGIN INCIDENT: CYCLE 0 Then, the angle shifted.The camera wasn’t in the car anymore.It hung above the wreck like a drone’s eye.Rain sheeted down. Emergency lights strobed blue and red. My car was a crumpled question mark around the truck’s front end.The paramedics’ voices were muted, replaced by an overdub.The Game’s voice.“From one little accident…” it crooned, in a tone halfway between trailer narrator and smarmy host, “…a star was born.”The words floated across the scene in glossy letters.FROM SPINELESS GIRLFRIEND… …TO STAR AUTHOR BATTERY! Fireworks graphics popped behind Etha

Up close, the thing above the pillar didn’t look like a person.It looked like an error pretending to be one.Lines of code ran across the inside of its hood where a face should’ve been, shapes blooming and collapsing in quick succession—eyes, mouths, geometric patterns—none of them holding long enough to cohereIt tilted that non‑head, as if taking us in.When it spoke again, the sound vibrated in my molars.“CYCLE ARCHIVE ACCESSED,” it said. “KEY AUTHOR PRESENT AT CORE. PROBABILITY OF SYSTEM DESTABILIZATION: RISING.”The voice was layered: one track, low and masculine, one higher and feminine, one cold and mechanical. They didn’t quit line up, like three versions of the same sentence recorded at different speeds and played together.“Who the hell are you supposed to be?” Jax muttered. “Clippy’s eldritch cousin?”The glitch‑figure’s head turned slightly toward him.“INFORMAL METAPHOR: ‘GAME MASTER,’” it said. “FORMAL DESIGNATION: ADMINISTRATOR. PRIMARY FUNCTION: OVERSEE SOUL RECYCLE

Up close, the doors felt worse.From a distance they’d been just shapes, labels, light. As we walked into the hall, the weight of them settled around us—each frame giving off a faint, distinct pressure, like the air in front of it was tuned to a different frequency.Names gleamed above some.WILLA ROANE. CORVIN THORNE. SML / JAX MARTIN. SELDANE VAELOR. Others bore only roles or outcomes.KEY AUTHOR – CYCLE 271. BOUND ESCORT – RETIREMENT. CHAMPION – PERPETUAL. And then there were the generic ones:STANDARD ENDING. ALTERNATE ENDING. TRAGIC ENDING. ERASURE. It looked like the game had drafted blueprints for every way we might end.“This is like walking through the world’s worst spoiler section,” Jax muttered. “Ten out of ten, do not recommend.”“Stay within sightlines,” Corvin said. His voice still came out a little rough from where the Admin had squeezed it. “We don’t know what happens if someone gets lost in their own door.”“We know what happens if we *don’t* loo