Collapsing Caste

The moment the P.E. teacher was "consumed" in the schoolyard, Class 2-C's classroom was dominated by a clinging silence. A processing failure called "incomprehension."

It lasted only seconds.

But the moment a female student's smartphone slipped from her frozen grip and clattered against the floor, the classroom exploded.

"N-nooooo!!"

"Teacher! Teacher Sasaki!"

"This can't be real!?"

Someone's scream flipped the switch, and fear spread like a contagion, instantly burning away everyone's reason.

CLATTER CLATTER CLATTER!

Chairs toppled, desks scraped across the floor.

Students at the windows scattered like spiderlings away from the schoolyard side, rushing toward the hallway door.

"Move it! Let me through!"

"Don't push! That hurts!"

"Hurry! Open the door!"

Arguments at the exit.

Girls nearly trampled, screaming.

Boys trying to climb over them instead of helping.

Friends who had been close moments ago now saw each other as nothing but meat obstacles.

Friendship, courtesy, school caste.

Before the absolute tyrant called survival instinct, they all blew away like flimsy paper.

"C-calm down! Everyone calm down!"

The one shouting in a cracking voice was Matsunaga from the soccer club.

The central figure of the class, reigning at the top of the caste.

Normally, his single word could set the class atmosphere.

But now his face was deathly pale, his knees shaking.

"Th-this is a joke, right? A prank, yeah? Where's the camera!? Come out already!"

He still couldn't accept reality, calling out to thin air for salvation.

A pitiful defense mechanism trying to force the slaughter before his eyes into the frame of "entertainment."

It was painfully ridiculous.

An "emperor with no clothes" who could only swagger in a peaceful bubble.

That was his true nature in emergencies.

No one was listening to his orders. His influence was zero.

(… Shallow.)

I observed the hellscape with cold eyes from my seat at the back, by the window.

They didn't know.

How suicidal it was to panic and rush into the hallway right now.

The goblins that had spilled into the schoolyard were already looking up at the school building, seeking their next prey.

Those who move, those who scream, those who stand out. They'd be targeted in that order. That was the iron rule of the hunt.

"Haa, haa… Kurose!"

Suddenly, someone grabbed my arm with force.

Sakaki.

His complexion was ashen too, but his eyes alone hadn't been swallowed by the torrent of panic.

His fingers digging into my arm were turning white.

"You saw it, right? Just now…"

"Yeah. Had a front row seat."

"How can you be so calm…!? Someone got eaten! The teacher, like that…!"

Sakaki nearly grabbed my collar, then stopped short.

Because my eyes, seen up close, were too calm.

No fear, no agitation, not even urgency.

Just the cold, detached eyes of a craftsman confirming the procedure for the "work" about to begin.

Sakaki's wild instincts made him realize his close friend had transformed into "something different."

"… You really do know something, don't you?"

"Even if I did, there's no time to explain now."

I removed Sakaki's hand and reached for the black case propped beside my desk.

A hard-type "fishing rod case" about two meters long.

The luggage I'd been carrying around these past few days, claiming it was "my old man's hobby."

Right before Sakaki's eyes, I yanked the zipper all the way down.

The long ripping sound cut sharply through the chaos.

The case split open.

"… Huh?"

Sakaki inhaled sharply.

What was stored inside wasn't a carbon fishing rod.

It was a long metal mass, wrapped carefully in oil-stained rags.

I unwrapped the cloth, revealing its contents.

A dull-gleaming, crude metal bar.

A 22mm diameter, 2-meter long deformed rebar.

Its bumpy surface reflected the classroom fluorescent lights, shimmering like sharkskin. The tip had been sharpened to a spear point.

"Wh… what is that? Rebar…?"

Sakaki backed away.

Of course. No student brings rebar to school.

But given the current situation, that brutal mass should have looked like a more reliable "answer" than any textbook or teacher's words.

"Sakaki, you're a smart guy. If you want to survive, do the opposite of Matsunaga and the others."

"Opposite?"

"Don't head for the exits. Get away from the windows. And grab something that could be a weapon. A desk leg, a chair leg, whatever."

I lightly swung the rebar with one hand and shouldered it.

Body Strengthening, 10% output.

Heat spread through every muscle in my body, making the heavy iron feel light as styrofoam.

Preparations complete.

"Kurose, you… you're serious? You're going to fight those things?"

"Damn right. Sitting around waiting to die isn't my style."

Just as I was about to move.

WOOOOOOO――!!

From the distance came sirens splitting the air.

Not just one. Multiple patrol cars racing this way at full speed.

Symbols of the everyday. Guardians of order.

"P-police!"

"Help is here! The police are here!"

The students who had been fighting at the exit snapped their heads up.

A ray of hope shining into the pit of despair.

State power. Officers with guns.

If they came, surely they'd end this nightmare.

Drive away those green monsters and return us to worrying about tomorrow's test.

The classroom atmosphere instantly relaxed into "relief."

"Thank goodness… we're saved…"

"Hey! Over here! Hurry!"

Matsunaga and the others rushed to the windows, waving and screaming frantically.

Girls hugging each other, crying with relief.

Boys slumping down, sighing in relief.

My warning hadn't reached their ears.

(… Idiots.)

I gripped the rebar tighter and sighed deeply.

Saved? The opposite.

That siren was nothing but a dinner bell announcing "new prey" to the goblins.

And I also knew that the pathetic revolvers carried by Japanese police couldn't possibly penetrate the magically-reinforced hides of these monsters.

"It's coming, Sakaki."

I fixed my gaze on the area behind the school building where the patrol cars were pulling in.

"Huh? The police?"

"No. A second helping of 'despair.'"

Before I'd even finished speaking, a loud screech echoed.

The sound of patrol car doors opening. Officers shouting.

Pop, pop. Dry gunshots.

And then, drowning them out, the goblins' triumphant howls.

Seconds until the classroom's relief would freeze again and turn to screams.

The opening bell for Act Two of the one-sided slaughter was about to ring.