Watching their classmates die one after another—each meeting bizarre, horrific ends on their “fated steps”—the twelve remaining survivors could no longer stay calm. Fear twisted their expressions.
“Xiao Yu… which step are we on now?”
Xu Ziqi, trembling and too panicked to keep track, asked Yan Yu for the third time.
“Step 1,794,” Yan Yu replied patiently.
Through earlier conversations with their classmates—and witnessing their deaths—she had memorized the numbering.
Ziqi froze, then widened her eyes.
“1,794? Then… doesn’t that mean we’re almost at your death step?”
“Yeah. Step 1,797. That’s where I’m supposed to die today.”
Staring at the steps just below, knowing she’d soon share her classmates’ fate, Yan Yu’s voice carried quiet resignation.
Ziqi’s face crumpled. She covered her mouth, tears spilling as she looked at Yan Yu.
“Don’t cry, Ziqi. From here on, you’ll have to rely on yourself. If you make it out alive… please tell my parents I’m sorry.”
With those final words, Yan Yu turned and began descending toward her doomed step.
Ziqi reached out, wanting to grab her, to stop her—
But she knew it was pointless. Worse, it might get her killed too.
Her hand dropped. She turned away, unable to watch Yan Yu walk to her death.
Ninety-five… ninety-six… ninety-seven?
Yan Yu paused before the step that would kill her.
She glanced at the few classmates still alive ahead and behind her, forcing a faint, strained smile.
Then, without hesitation, she stepped forward.
A sudden weightlessness hit her, dizziness swirling through her mind.
When her senses cleared, she found herself suspended in an endless, lightless ocean.
“You will drown on step 1,797.”
The monster’s earlier proclamation echoed in her memory.
No way to swim out. No hope of survival.
Resigned, Yan Yu stopped struggling. She let herself sink deeper into the abyss.
“Jiejie, what’s wrong? Wake up! Please!”
…Xiao Qi’s voice?
Her consciousness fading, Yan Yu frowned at the familiar call.
“Dammit—she’s trapped in the Abyssal Beast’s illusion! I have to break her free!”
Before she could react, a bright, melodic song pierced the crushing depths, growing clearer with each note.
Then—
Air.
Yan Yu gasped, her lungs burning as she breathed.
Her eyes flew open.
Kneeling beside her was a blue-haired girl with twin tails, her singing fading as she leaned closer, relieved.
“Where… am I? Where’s the ocean?” Yan Yu croaked.
The girl beamed. “You’re awake! Thank goodness!”
“Was I… asleep?”
“Not asleep. You and your classmates were trapped in the Abyssal Beast’s illusions.”
“Illusions?” Yan Yu’s voice sharpened. “You mean none of that was real?”
The twin-tailed girl nodded. “It was all fake.”
“Then my classmates—they’re okay?”
A hesitation. The girl’s smile faltered.
Yan Yu’s stomach dropped.
Ignoring her suddenly weak limbs, she forced herself up, scanning her surroundings.
The sky was blood-red, the sun a sickly black. The weathered steps beneath her were cracked and stained, flanked by twisted, ink-dark plants.
And scattered nearby—her classmates. Motionless.
“Class President! Ziqi! Everyone—answer me!”
A few stirred at her shouts.
“Huh…? Why am I here? I was about to step on my death stair…”
“My body feels so weak… like I just ran a marathon.”
“What the hell happened?”
Relief should have flooded Yan Yu.
But the ones waking now were only the eleven who, in the illusion, had still been alive when she reached her death step.
The others—those who had stepped on their fated stairs earlier, or broken the “rules”—lay silent.
Unmoving.
Never waking.