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

Mai hid behind a pillar, her face still stinging faintly. A steel I-beam jutted out above her head, and her heart was still pounding.

[Just a little more—just a little more, and that thing would’ve skewered me right through.]

This monster was terrifying, on a completely different level from the one in the castle. And that idiot actually decided to take it on alone.

[I should’ve helped, right? My bullets were all soaked in Serene Dewdrop, and I definitely landed several hits on the stationary target. But wouldn’t air friction evaporate the Dewdrop? If that thing actually had intelligence, wouldn’t it be even harder to deal with?]

Mai’s thoughts were a mess, filled with both anticipation and hesitation. Just then, a dull thud, thud, thud reached her ears.

“Huh? What’s that sound?”

She froze for a moment, took a deep breath, and peeked out—only to see something round rolling across the ground. When she focused, she realized it was a massive, deformed head, utterly ruined.

The muscles were stripped away, its jaw fully exposed to the air, with disgusting mucus still oozing from it. Luckily, she’d seen plenty of revolting things before. She quickly knocked it aside with her rifle’s stock and stood up.

The parking garage was littered with shallow craters and shattered support columns. In the open space, a headless corpse lay on the ground.

And standing atop its chest was a lone figure, methodically raising and lowering his blade—again and again, like a butcher diligently carving up a carcass.

He was drenched in deep crimson.

Mai blinked, then stepped forward, unfazed by the slippery blood pooling beneath her feet.

“…What are you doing?”

“Making sure it stays dead. No matter how strong Red Moon is, it’s not bringing this thing back.”

Yuuki leaned on his blade, panting heavily. Seeing Mai’s blank expression, he hesitated.

She had changed—inevitably matured. The lighthearted, youthful air around her was quietly fading. At her core, she wasn’t so different from him anymore.

“Nice shooting earlier. Not shaking under pressure and landing precise hits on a fixed target is impressive.” Yuuki glanced at the girl’s unreadable face and spread his hands. “But next time, keep your bursts short. A few times, you nearly shot me instead.”

“That’s nonsense. I only fired after you moved away!”

“Oh? So, you’re that worried about hitting me, Senpai? I’ll remember this concern for the rest of my life.”

“Who’s worried about you? If you wanna die, do it far away from me.”

Mai scowled, finally showing some emotion beyond a blank stare.

Not exactly an easygoing person, huh?

Yuuki chuckled and looked down at the dismembered corpse. No doubt about it, that had been a dangerous fight. The Chaos Artifact had essentially buffed the Tyrant, turning its straightforward attacks into calculated, predictive strikes.

[If that had dragged on any longer, I would’ve had to use my trump card.]

Yuuki was stingy, but he never hesitated when it mattered. And as for Mai—she was long past being just a pretty face. Time and again, she had proved crucial.

The Reincarnation Game, however, was even stingier. Neither slaying the Tyrant nor leading the team through the second night had granted any extra rewards. It seemed like achievements could only be unlocked once.

“Senpai, did your skill panel get a new ability?”

“…How’d you know?” Mai checked her player panel. Sure enough, a new skill had appeared—Firearms Handling (Novice).

“As I thought. Enhancement points are just a shortcut. Players can improve their skills through actual effort, and I bet the environment plays a role too.”

Yuuki pondered. He had trained at shooting ranges before, but firing at stationary targets was nothing like unloading on a rampaging Tyrant. According to the game’s logic, the latter must provide way more experience.

[That means my swordsmanship should be close to leveling up too. Good thing I didn’t waste enhancement points on ordinary skills. Only things like magic—stuff with no real-world equivalent—deserve those points.]

Yuuki exhaled deeply. He had made the right choice by accident. Just as he was thinking that, he felt a finger poke his stomach.

“Hey, should we regroup with Li Dan and the others?” Mai sounded hesitant. The Tyrant’s appearance meant a lot of things.

“Of course we should.”

“But didn’t you say he’s suspicious?”

“If there’s a problem, we deal with it. Running won’t solve anything. And if we run, what about Hasaka?”

Yuuki bent down, picking up a shotgun and methodically loading shells into it. “The possibilities are shifting, but if we want to survive this dungeon, I still need Li Dan’s strength.”

Mai opened her mouth, then sighed. She couldn’t bring herself to say leave Hasaka behind. Besides, everything was still speculation. Maybe things weren’t as bad as Yuuki feared.

Ding.

In the dead silence, the sudden message notification was downright eerie. Mai turned her head and saw Yuuki pull out a phone—apparently looted from an enemy.

“Wait, there’s internet here?”

“Not for us. But the dungeon’s NPCs still have it.”

“…Even the undead are sending messages? There shouldn’t be any normal people left in this instance, right?”

“Says who?”

Yuuki opened a chat app and found a video attached. Clicking play, his lips curled into a grin.

“Aren’t we players normal people?”

…

The ground was on fire. Crushed car wrecks were scattered everywhere, and several streetlights were embedded in a nearby wall.

Huff… huff…

Li Dan bent over, hands on his knees, panting heavily. His revolver hung low, fresh blood dripping from the barrel.

He looked up, a glint of ruthlessness flashing across his broad face. The main street bore a massive V-shaped scar, the destruction widening outward until it split a small building in half.

And in front of him, a pair of severed, muscular legs stood where their owner used to be. The rest of its body was gone.

[Damn. I didn’t think this bastard would be so tough—sticking to me like a leech.]

Under the bright moonlight, the Tyrant had been regenerating too quickly. Even after half its skull was blown off, it kept attacking—ripping out streetlights to hurl like spears, lifting cars to charge forward.

And his revolver wasn’t cutting it. No matter how unlimited his bullets were, they couldn’t pierce that dense muscle.

So, Li Dan had resorted to using Death Bell, his Chaos Artifact’s true power. But being hounded like that had left him no time to charge it up.

[That useless coward ran so fast she didn’t even try to cover me.]

Li Dan cursed internally and quietly pocketed a kaleidoscope-like artifact—the very item he had used to slow the Tyrant before delivering the killing shot.

Clap, clap, clap.

“Brother Li, that was amazing! I was totally blown away! That was even cooler than a movie!”

A blond girl ran out from a nearby alley, eyes sparkling with admiration. She clicked her tongue in amazement at the destruction.

[Useless. Where the hell were you earlier?]

Li Dan’s lip twitched, but he couldn’t scold her outright. Instead, he turned away—only to step into a shallow crater.

He staggered forward, barely stopping himself from face-planting.

“Brother Li, are you okay?!”

“I’m fine, just a little tired.” Li Dan waved his hand dismissively, his tone indifferent. He knew this was the side effect of the Chaos Artifact, so he remained on high alert. Suddenly, he stepped half a pace to the side.

Thud.

A bent streetlamp crashed down right next to him, narrowly missing his head. Hayasaka Ai blinked her pure, innocent-looking eyes, but her mind was working non-stop.

He seems really unlucky. His whole body is tense.

Glancing at Hayasaka Ai again, Li Dan simply stopped moving altogether. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the fat guy, who reacted almost instantly, letting out a terrified scream.

“We’re screwed, we’re so screwed! This monster is way stronger than the ones in the castle! Brother Li, this means the progress isn’t resetting!”

“Huh? Why??” Hayasaka Ai tensed up as well, her eyes darting around as if an enemy might jump out at any moment.

“You seriously don’t know? If the progress reset, then at the very least, this monster should be at the same level as last night, right? But last night, I saw Brother Li take it down in just a few moves!”

There was no way to call the battle just now “easy.” Hayasaka Ai blinked again, suddenly realizing something, and then—her teeth started chattering as she instinctively leaned toward Li Dan.

The man took half a step back, clearly not interested in offering her any sense of security. He let out a heavy sigh. “At the very least, it won’t reset at night. But based on logical inference… damn it, why is this dungeon so hard!?”

There wasn’t a trace of exaggeration in his words; in fact, this realization crushed his last shred of hope. If the progress reset, they could still barely scrape through under the current circumstances—not easily, but within their capabilities.

But if the difficulty just kept stacking, how the hell were they supposed to survive the final day and night?

For a moment, he regretted following Yuuki’s plan. At most, there were still two more rounds of the Red Moon’s Gift tonight. If they gritted their teeth, they might be able to push through. But if they spilled too much blood before the moon rose, who knew what kind of horrors would show up in the morning?

“I originally thought the night would be harder, but the real killing move is during the day. That was a serious miscalculation.” Li Dan took a deep breath, not even sparing Hayasaka Ai a glance as he muttered to himself:

“The dungeon’s daytime mechanics are a bigger problem. As technology advances, the space to hide keeps shrinking. And once you have nowhere to hide, you’re forced into direct confrontation. That just creates a vicious cycle, so—”

He had to take an unconventional approach. He couldn’t keep using standard tactics. Fortunately, he had prepared a contingency plan.

As those last thoughts flashed through his mind, he carefully put away his gun and forced out a smile. “Let’s go meet up with Mai. She’s important to us.”

“What about Yuuki?” Hayasaka Ai asked. Why did he suddenly bring up Mai?

“Him?” Li Dan sighed. “No offense, but with how strong this monster is, he doesn’t even have a chance to run.”

His voice carried a trace of regret, as if mourning a fallen genius. But a moment later, his expression stiffened, and he quickly turned his head.

A series of hurried footsteps echoed from the distance. A boy and a girl were running toward them, both looking battered. The disheveled boy in the lead waved frantically, like a survivor who had just barely escaped death.

“I’m here to help! Huh? As expected of Brother Li, you already took care of the monster?!”

For a moment, Li Dan was too stunned to react. The words nearly slipped out of his mouth—

You’re not dead?!