ITB Chapter 4 Dragonslayer

The air was thick with the stench of blood, iron and rot. Screams echoed, choked off as a blade tore flesh apart.

A towering figure moved through the carnage, each step heavy with his breath ragged. Broad shoulders, a ragged cloak of black trailing behind him. His black armor was slick with gore, dents and scratches marking where claws and blades had struck but failed to kill him. Strapped to his back was a slab of metal so massive it could barely be called a sword, the Dragonslayer, and in his hands, it moved with brutal, merciless precision.

The Black Swordsman, Guts, was in the middle of a storm of monsters. His face was locked in a scowl. His single eye burned as if the rage inside him could set the world aflame. His body was a map of scars, fresh cuts adding themselves as he pressed forward through an endless sea of grotesque monsters.

The ground around him was littered with severed limbs, pools of blood reflecting the moonlight. Screams, snarls, and the wet rip of flesh tore through the night air as more of the twisted, misshapen creatures threw themselves at him.

They came in all shapes, hulking beasts with too many teeth, pale humanoid figures with faces stretched into eternal screams, winged horrors that swooped from above—but none of it mattered.

Guts’s only answer was to kill.

He swung the Dragonslayer in great arcs, the sheer weight of the blade smashing through bone and armor alike. The impact of every strike shook his body, sending jolts through his arms and into his already scarred muscles. The sword was swung in arcs that split demons apart like they were nothing but meat. One swing severed arms and torsos, another crushed a beast’s head like an overripe fruit. Blood sprayed in thick, hot ribbons, coating the ground and him with each brutal swing.

A massive horned demon lunged, teeth gnashing, but the blade came down like a guillotine, splitting its head clean in two. Another tried to flank him. He spun his body to dodge, then dragged the weapon’s edge through its torso until it fell apart in two twitching halves. Claws raked across his pauldron, biting through to flesh beneath, but he ignored the pain, lips curling into something between a snarl and a grimace.

Every step, every kill, every grunt of effort was fueled by the same burning core. Griffith.

The man who had destroyed everything. The man who had condemned him to this cursed existence. Every demon he killed was one more thing that wasn’t Griffith, but every swing brought him closer to the day they would meet again.

Minutes—or maybe hours—later, the battlefield grew quiet.

Only the crackle of a nearby fire and the sound of his own breathing remained. The corpses of monsters lay in heaps around him, a grotesque garden of broken forms. His body ached, his armor weighed heavy, but his grip on the Dragonslayer didn’t loosen until he was certain there were no more enemies waiting in the dark.

Finally, he let the blade hang at his side, its tip sinking into the blood-soaked earth with a wet thunk.

“…Hnh.” He exhaled, letting the tension bleed from his shoulders just slightly.

Then he took a single step forward.

And the world changed.

—---------------------------------------------------------

The crunch of grass beneath his boots was gone. The metallic tang of blood in the air vanished in an instant. The open field, the night, the corpses—they were gone.

In their place… was a hallway.

The walls were a sickly shade of faded yellow. The ground was covered in a matted, grimy carpet that squished faintly underfoot, carrying the damp, unpleasant scent of mildew.

Overhead, fluorescent lights buzzed in a way that was too loud filling the air with a droning hum that seemed to burrow into his skull.

Guts’s one good eye narrowed. He turned, expecting to see the open battlefield at his back—but there was only more hallway. Endless, stretching on in both directions.

“…The fuck?” Guts muttered, his voice a gravel growl.

His grip on Dragonslayer tightened.

No sky. No wind. Just this suffocating, endless hall of yellow. The air was warm, stale, heavy in his lungs. Every instinct screamed that this was wrong—another trap, another cruel game from forces he couldn’t see.

His lip curled into a sneer. “Is this your game, Griffith?!” Guts roared, voice echoing down the endless halls. 

It was always him. Every curse, every twist of fate, every time the world yanked the ground out from under him, it all led back to that white-haired bastard. If he wasn’t the one who had put him here, he was at least the reason Guts was cursed to walk into places like this.

Guts shifted his stance, ready for an ambush. His eyes scanned the halls for movement, his ears straining past the drone of the lights for footsteps, breathing, anything. But the silence here was… wrong.

The muscles in his jaw flexed. His heart wasn’t racing but his body knew this place was dangerous. He wanted something to cut. Something to bleed. But there was nothing.

When no enemy came, his scowl deepened. ‘Tch. If nothing’s gonna come at me, then I’ll find a way out myself.’

He slung the Dragonslayer back over his shoulder, the weapon’s great weight settling against him like an old companion. With one last glance at the endless walls, he started forward.

The buzzing lights followed him, their rhythm never changing.

The hallways seemed to stretch and bend in ways they shouldn’t, but he kept moving, boots heavy against the carpet. He didn’t know where he was or how he’d gotten here—but that didn’t matter.

One step at a time, until he found an exit.

And if something decided to get in his way, whether it was a demon, a man, or something else entirely…

He still had his sword.

—---------------------------------------

The buzzing of the fluorescent lights continued. As three teens continued to walk through the backrooms.

Step after step, the trio walked, Issei at the front with his eyes darting from corner to corner, Weiss at his side with Myrtenaster lightly poised in her grip, and Yuuka close behind gripping her pipe like it was a lifeline.

Yuuka’s breath was steady, but her eyes kept flicking to the shadows that bent too far or the corners that stretched at odd angles. Weiss kept her posture stiff, though Issei had already noticed the subtle tension in her knuckles on her rapier.

The hallway twisted again, stretching into a larger room with scattered junk strewn across the floor—paper cups, a tipped-over chair, what looked like a broken typewriter smashed against the wall. Among the mess, something stood out.

“Huh, I wonder what’s that.” Issei muttered, walking over. He crouched down and tugged a dusty, dark-green backpack from the floor. The zipper was half open, frayed from wear.

Yuuka tilted her head. “A… backpack?”

Weiss’s eyes narrowed. “Things really do just appear here randomly.””

Issei slung it over his shoulder anyway. “Doesn’t matter. This could be useful. If we keep finding random stuff. It might help us later and we can use this to carry it.” He gave it a shake. The sound of clinking metal came from inside. Surprising the three, making them wonder what may be inside.

Yuuka perked up. “Maybe supplies?”

Opening it carefully, Issei pulled out a dented canteen, and what looked like a rusted multitool. He smirked. “Better than nothing.”

Weiss eyed the items with distrust. “Just don’t let your guard down. Who knows were these things come from.”

They continued on, the buzz of the lights filling the silence once more. After a while, the weight of the endless halls pressed too heavily on their thoughts, and conversation started—not because they wanted to, but because they needed to.

Weiss was the one to break it first. “Tell me something. About yourselves.”

Yuuka gave her a skeptical glance. “Why? Getting bored?”

“To avoid dwelling on the thought of dying in this place,” Weiss said flatly.

“…Fair enough.”

“Hmm.” Issei grinned, raising his fist with enthusiasm. “In that case—allow me to share with you… my dream!”

Weiss cast him a wary side-eye. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

Yuuka groaned. “This better not be what I think it is.”

“It’s exactly what you think it is!” Issei announced proudly, puffing his chest. “I’m gonna be the Harem King!”

Yuuka blinked in disbelief. “Wait—you’re serious? That’s… that’s your life’s goal?”

Weiss almost choked on her own breath, stopping in place to glare at him as if he’d just declared himself a lunatic. “A harem?! Are you completely out of your mind?!”

Issei just grinned sheepishly. “Hey, I never said I was normal. Besides, why hide your dreams? The moment I get back home, I’m doubling my efforts. Beautiful girls with big breasts, warm smiles, all surrounding me—it’ll be paradise!”

“You perv.” Weiss muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Yuuka shook her head, staring at him as though she wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. “You’re actually serious, aren’t you? You… want to be surrounded by a bunch of girls?”

“Of course, I do. It’s the dream of any hotblooded man.” Issei said with a smile.

Weiss then narrowed her eyes. “Tell me, Issei, why? Why such a… ludicrous goal?

“…Why, huh?” Issei’s expression faltered for the first time. He slowed his pace, his face more thoughtful than they had ever seen.

Both Weiss and Yuuka exchanged a look. They had expected him to laugh it off, to say he just wanted to be popular, or that he was a hopeless pervert who wanted to drown in pretty faces. But instead, he stood there quietly, staring at the ground as if her question had pierced something deeper.

“…Honestly,” Issei muttered, scratching his cheek. “I never really thought about the ‘why’ before.” 

The silence stretched as the two girls waited, curiosity and a hint of worry gnawing at them.

Finally, Issei looked up, his eyes more serious than they’d ever seen. “I guess it's because I want a big family.“

Both girls blinked.

He looked up at them with a small, earnest smile. “Don’t get me wrong, I have two caring parents back home. But to me that isn't enough as I want more. I want a family that I created with my own two hands, one that loves me and one I can love back. Where no one feels left out, no one’s abandoned. A place I can belong.”

Weiss’s lips parted slightly, her sharp reply dying in her throat. She expected something foolish, but not such honesty.

Yuuka stared at him, her grip on the pipe tightening as something uncomfortably familiar twisted in her chest.

“…A family,” Weiss echoed quietly, more to herself than to him.

Issei nodded once, his expression firming into quiet determination. “It’s selfish. But that’s why I can’t die here. I haven’t built it yet. And I’m not giving up on that. No matter what.”

He adjusted the strap of the backpack on his shoulder and resumed his walk down the yellow hallway. His steps were firmer now, carrying an unspoken weight.

‘A family… huh?’ Yuuka lingered for a moment, watching him, her mind suddenly full of memories of her single mother and the loneliness of the missing father.

Weiss didn’t move right away either. The heiress of SDC, who once would have sneered at such a foolish dream, found herself without words. Because hearing it from Hyoudou’s lips, said with such honesty, such unflinching sincerity… It made something in her chest ache.

As the only one she could actually call family was her big sister. But just like Issei, she too had been desperately searching for a way to have more. ‘If I get out… What do I actually want my future to be?’

Wordlessly, the two girls began to follow him, their footsteps echoing softly against the carpeted floor.

The silence pressed heavier with each passing minute, so it was Yuuka who finally spoke, her voice quieter than usual. “…I guess I should… tell you guys a bit more about myself.”

Issei glanced at her, surprised by the sudden seriousness in her tone. Weiss slowed her stride, giving her attention as well.

Yuuka tightened her grip on the pipe. Her gaze wasn’t on them, though — it was fixed on the ugly yellow floor beneath her feet.

“I come from a single-parent household. My mom raised me on her own because… my shitty father abandoned us.”

Issei blinked. Weiss’s lips pressed thin.

Yuuka continued giving a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “Funny thing is… we actually came from money. My grandparents, on my mom’s side, were the proud owners of a massive business. Commerce, trade, all that stuff. My mom… she was supposed to inherit it. She was the heir. She was smart and hardworking.”

She laughed quietly, but there was no joy in it.

“But my grandparents wanted her to marry a promising business partner. You know, keep the company strong, keep the money in the family. That man ended up being my sperm donor.”

Her voice sharpened with anger. “Turns out my grandparents weren’t the best judges of character. The guy married my mom, took the business from her, and then tossed both of us to the streets like trash. Mom lost everything. The name, the legacy, the company. All because of him.”

Issei’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “That’s… that’s messed up.”

Weiss’s eyes widened. She stared at Yuuka, her mind flashing back to her own mother, Willow Schnee, who’d been married to Jacques, losing everything as well. Wallowing in the comfort of alcohol.

‘It’s almost the same,’ Weiss realized, heart sinking. ‘Her mother… and mine… both used in the end as pawns.’

Yuuka kept going, her voice steadier now, though her eyes glimmered faintly in the fluorescent light. “Luckily, Mom had just enough saved up to keep a roof over our heads. We survived. But… because of my shitty dad, I grew up hating men. Couldn’t trust them. Didn’t want anything to do with them.”

The hallway buzzed louder, or maybe it only felt that way because of the silence that followed her words.

Issei scratched the back of his head awkwardly, his tone softer than usual. “Then… me being this close must be… a bother, huh?” He then gets uncomfortable as he doesn't know what to do. “Should I… move a bit further away?”

For a moment Yuuka didn’t answer.

Then she turned her head, blue eyes narrowing slightly, not in anger but in disbelief.

“Don’t be ridiculous,”She said, cheeks tinged with pink. “After everything you’ve done… saving me, fighting those monsters, never once making me feel unsafe… there’s no way I could hate you.”

Before Issei could respond, Yuuka reached out.

Her hand brushed against his, then closed firmly around it.

Issei blinked, startled, his face heating as the warmth of her palm pressed against his.

Yuuka looked away quickly, blush deepening. “S-so… just shut up and walk.”

Weiss glanced between them, her mouth opening as if to say something, then shutting again. She didn’t know what to say and instead turned her eyes forward, gripping Myrtenaster tighter as her thoughts churned.

The three of them continued forward. 

—------------------------------------

The Backrooms carried its endless hum, but something else stirred within its sickly yellow halls.

A massive tide of gGrimm come out running as they feel the hate that pulsed through the air like a beacon. Every Grimm within earshot felt it in the marrow of their being.

They hungered for it.

From the twisting halls came the thunder of claws on carpet, paws pounding like war drums. Beowolves, their red eyes burning like coals, snarled and tore through the corridors. Creeps ran on their two legs while their tail slithered low to the ground, their tongues flicking, jaws unhinged to taste the promise of flesh. Towering Ursa crashed through walls, the wallpaper tearing, the air vibrating with their enraged bellows.

Their instincts screamed to destroy, to tear apart the source of that hatred before it spread. The more they followed it, the stronger it grew. 

A wide, low-ceilinged chamber stretched ahead, the buzzing of the lights almost drowned out by the growls of the pack. And at the center of the room stood a lone man, his back straight, his single eye glinting like cold steel beneath the shadow of his black armor.

“…More of you, huh?” Guts’ voice was low, almost as if a growl.

The Dragonslayer rested in his hands, its slab-like edge already stained with blood from battles past. He didn’t flinch at the sight of the charging horde. He didn’t move until the first Grimm leapt, claws outstretched.

The Beowolfs lunged, jaws wide, eyes glowing with malice.

The Dragonslayer roared to life.

A brutal sideways sweep carved through three Beowolves in a single motion, the sheer weight of the weapon crushing their bodies mid-leap. Black ichor sprayed, spattering the walls and dripping onto the filthy carpet. The massive blade then cleaves through a beast’s skull and shoulder, splitting it into two shrieking halves. Before its body even hit the ground, he pivoted, dragging the weapon through another that had leapt at his side, cutting it down with the same contemptuous force. 

The corpses twitched and then dissolved into smoke… and vanished.

“Hnh.” His grunt was low, more annoyance than surprise.

Dozens of Grimm charged at once, their black bodies blending with the shadows, their bone masks gleaming like teeth in the false light. Guts moved with fury-fueled strength, each strike of the Dragonslayer sending shockwaves through the floor. Claws raked at his armor, teeth bit into his shoulder, but he didn’t falter. He instead continued swinging his sword, slaughtering all that came.

Then the next wave came fast. Creeps skittered toward him, their bodies hugging the floor, jaws snapping. Guts swung downward, the Dragonslayer splitting one clean in half, the shockwave of impact throwing two more across the room with broken spines. Creeps tried to swarm his legs, only to be pulped under the weight of his blade as he slammed it down like a butcher’s cleaver.

An Ursa roared, towering over him, its claws like tree trunks as it charged. Guts planted his feet, muscles tensing, and met the beast head-on. His blade arced upward, cleaving through the Ursa’s chest in a brutal diagonal strike. The monster howled, black smoke already eating at its body before it collapsed and faded away.

One after another, they threw themselves at him—biting, slashing, howling for his blood. And one after another, they died.

Guts fought like a storm. Every swing was wild yet precise, his strength overwhelming, his stamina inexhaustible. He bore the scratches and cuts that got through, but ignored them, his rage burning hotter than any wound.

The room was filled with the sound of steel meeting flesh, of roars cut short, of the buzzing lights above drowned out by the symphony of slaughter.

Finally… silence.

The last Grimm crumbled under the weight of his blade, its head split open, body collapsing to the ground. Guts stepped back, panting faintly, Dragonslayer dragging across the carpet as he let it rest.

The corpses dissolved into nothingness, the floor littered with only the faint black stains of smoke that seeped away into the carpet.

Guts stood among the empty space. His chest rose and fell with deep, steady breaths, his eye scanning the room for any survivors. 

He exhaled, a rough scoff escaping him. “…Tch. The hell was that?”

His eye narrowed as he studied the strange emptiness left behind. Monsters didn’t just disappear into smoke. At least, not in his world. Apostles bled, demons screamed, men died ugly deaths. These things… they simply vanished.

Still, he didn’t dwell on it. He never had the luxury of sitting around wondering why.

Shifting the Dragonslayer back into place across his shoulder, he turned toward the nearest hallway. The endless yellow walls stretched before him, buzzing, waiting.

“Where the fuck is the exit?” His voice was a growl, low and guttural, echoing off the empty walls.

He spat on the carpet and kept walking.

No matter where he was—whether it was a battlefield, Hell itself, or this cursed maze—it was always the same. If something got in his way, he’d kill it. If the world itself tried to swallow him, he’d cut his way out.

The hatred in his chest never lessened.

—-------------------------------------

The yellow hallway opened into another wide chamber, the buzzing of the lights louder here, almost rattling in their ears. The carpet smelled worse than usual—damp, moldy, with a faint metallic tang that turned Weiss’s stomach.

Issei stepped through first, his red glove flickering faintly with residual light. Weiss followed at his shoulder, rapier ready, her eyes narrowing at the peculiar shadows writhing at the edges of the room. Yuuka brought up the rear, pipe clutched in both hands, her heart pounding so loud she swore the things in the walls could hear it.

Then they moved.

Shapes emerged from the dim corners—humanoid, but wrong. Twisted, shuddering figures made of solid black mass. Their bodies warped as if they were shadows pretending to be people, arms too long, heads jerking unnaturally as they lurched forward. Dozens of them.

Weiss froze for half a heartbeat, her chest tightening. “…What are these things?”

The nearest one screeched—a sound like metal tearing—and charged.

“Stay behind me!” Issei didn’t hesitate. His body moved before his brain could catch up, his fist colliding with the creature’s face. Twice critical flared, the impact sending the black mass flying back into a group of its own kind.

“Weren’t these things Grimm?!” He shouted as another one of the creatures swung an elongated arm at him like a whip, but Issei ducked low, pivoted, and drove his fist upward into its chest so hard the sound reverberated through the floor.

Weiss gritted her teeth, Myrtenaster spinning to a Dust chamber as she summoned a flurry of glyphs beneath her feet. She dashed forward, stabbing through one, spinning, and slashing across another’s throat. “No! These are not Grimm! Grimm have white bones sticking out of their body! These… these are something else entirely!”

Another lunged for her side; Weiss pivoted and drove her blade up through its chest, twisting sharply. Black matter clung to her weapon before sliding off as the thing collapsed.

Issei ducked under another lunge, twisting to slam his gloved fist into the thing’s head. The impact popped it like a water balloon, its body collapsing into quivering ooze. “Then what the hell are they?!”

Yuuka’s voice rang from behind them. “Whatever they are, they’re everywhere!”

She swung her pipe with a cry, smashing it into the skull of a shadow-creature that had crept behind Issei. Its head folded in like wet clay, dissolving under her frantic blows. She swung again and again, her arms shaking, breath ragged—but the need to keep them off Issei and Weiss gave her strength she didn’t know she had.

Issei noticed her effort and smirked in the middle of his own flurry of punches. “Nice one, Yuuka! Keep watching our backs!”

Yuuka’s cheeks flushed, but she didn’t dare let herself get distracted.

Issei moved under another swipe, twisting his fist into the thing’s stomach and sending it crashing into the wall. His chest was heaving, the weight of adrenaline and confusion gnawing at him. ‘If these aren’t Grimm, then what the hell are they?’

“Weiss!” he shouted, slamming another aside. “If they aren’t Grimm, then what the hell do you think these are?!”

Weiss spun in place, glyphs flashing, Myrtenaster leaving silver arcs as she slashed through three in one smooth motion. Her face was pale but composed, her voice sharp and commanding. “I told you—I don’t know! I’ve never seen anything like them before. They don’t fight like Grimm, and they certainly don’t die like them either!”

And indeed, as one of Yuuka’s targets crumpled, its body didn’t stay. Instead, it melted, seeping into the carpet, dissolving into black sludge before evaporating into smoke. One by one, all the bodies faded, leaving only the smell of damp carpet and the echo of the buzzing lights.

The battle continued, the room filled with the grotesque shrieks of the creatures and the hiss of steel cutting through them. Weiss moved like a dancer, glyphs lighting beneath her as she dashed between enemies, rapier piercing through black flesh with ruthless grace. Issei fought raw and brutal, each punch leaving deep cracks and splatters. Yuuka swung wide, protecting their blind spots, her pipe smashing down in rhythm.

The silence after the battle was deafening.

The last of the creatures shrieked as Weiss’s rapier skewered its chest. Its body shuddered before collapsing into a pool of tar-like ooze. Slowly, like smoke on the wind, its form dissolved until nothing was left but a dark stain on the carpet.

Yuuka leaned on her pipe, panting, sweat glistening on her brow. “Then… what are they?” Her voice trembled despite her attempt to keep it steady.

Weiss stood rigid, staring at the empty stains on the floor where the creatures had vanished. Her knuckles whitened around her rapier. “…Another mystery we don’t have answers to.”

Issei lowered his fist, the red glow of the gauntlet dimming slightly. He exhaled hard, looking between them. “Figures. This place just keeps throwing more crap at us.” His attempt at sounding casual couldn’t hide the frustration twisting in his chest.

Weiss pressed her lips into a thin line, her blue eyes lingering on the smoky residue. ‘More monsters exist than Grimm. Just what kind of place is this?’

Yuuka swallowed and adjusted her grip on the pipe. “We should keep moving. More could come out if we stray here.”

Issei nodded grimly, shifting the strap of the backpack on his shoulder. “Right, we just have to make sure we’re ready the next time they come crawling out.”

The three of them exchanged glances—fear, determination, uncertainty mingling in their eyes. And together, they turned back to the yellow hallways, walking deeper into the maze, knowing that somewhere out there, more things waited.

—-------------------------

The buzz of the fluorescent lights followed her like a swarm of insects.

A young girl’s sandals made the faintest scuffing sound against the damp carpet as she wandered the twisting halls. Her pale pink eyes scanned the endless monotony of yellow walls, every turn leading to yet another stretch of the same. She tilted her head slightly, her long black-and-orange hair brushing her shoulders, swaying with each step.

Her hands touched the wallpaper once, fingers curling against it. It felt sticky in places, rough in others.

Her lips parted around the bamboo muzzle, but no sound came. Still, her thoughts were loud. ‘ Brother…!’

A flicker of worry made her chest ache. He had been there one moment, his presence close and reassuring, and then nothing. Only yellow halls and that horrible buzzing.

So she ran, her expression a mask of calm, though her heart pounded beneath the folds of her pink kimono. ‘Where are you, big brother?’

As she kept running the halls changed again, opening into a wider room. The air was heavier here. But then the young girl froze, her body lowering slightly, a predator’s caution settling in.

Something was coming.

The ground trembled faintly with each approaching step. Heavy, deliberate. Not the quick scuttling of beasts, but the stride of a man.

And then he appeared.

A broad silhouette emerged from the far end of the room, his presence filling the space before he even stepped into the light. Black armor clung to his frame, scarred and dented from countless battles. A massive blade, too big to be called a sword, more like a slab of iron, rested across his shoulder. His single visible eye glinted beneath the shadow of his hair, sharp and unforgiving.

The young girl blinked slowly, tilting her head. She smelled blood, so much blood. lingering on him like a second skin. Not fresh, but old, caked into his armor, his clothes, the very steel of his weapon. 

He stopped a few feet away, his gaze narrowing on her small form. “Who?” His voice was gravel, deep and tired, but wary. He studied her carefully, the strange clothes, the bamboo muzzle, the inhuman stillness in her pink eyes.

For a long moment, neither moved.

Nezuko’s expression remained calm, almost blank, but her body shifted ever so slightly into a ready stance, one hand curling at her side. She didn’t know him but she felt that he was dangerous and ready to attack at any moment. She could feel it radiating off him.

Guts tilted his head, eye narrowing. “You’re no demon.” The word rolled off his tongue with the weight of countless hunts. His grip tightened on the Dragonslayer regardless. “But you ain’t human either, are you?”

Nezuko blinked again, lips pressing against the bamboo muzzle. She couldn’t answer him.

Instead, she lowered her guard—just slightly—her eyes softening.

Guts frowned. His instincts screamed at him not to trust anything in this place, least of all a silent girl dressed like she had walked straight out of a dream. And yet… she didn’t attack. She just stood there, watching him with that same strange, unreadable calm.

“Who are you?” He asked as he shifted the Dragonslayer on his shoulder. But the girl didn’t answer.

The two of them stood in silence, surrounded by buzzing lights and yellow walls.

Guts stood still, his one eye narrowed on the small figure in front of him. The girl couldn’t have been older than twelve, delicate in frame, swathed in pink and patterned cloth. But her eyes… pale pink, wide and unblinking, stared back at him without fear.

It made his skin crawl.

‘What the hell’s a kid doing in this place?’ He thought, as his hand reached for the hilt of his sword. This maze was no place for men hardened by war, let alone a child. And yet, here she was, calm, quiet, as if the nightmare around them was no stranger to her.

Suspicion flared. His whole life had taught him not to trust what looked innocent. Too often, it was the opposite. Demons whispered from mouths that smiled kindly. A child, lost and alone? That was too easy. Too convenient.

His hand twitched. The Dragonslayer shifted slightly.

But still… she didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t even reach for him. She only… watched.

Minutes dragged on, the two of them locked in a silent standoff. The lights buzzed overhead. Somewhere, water dripped into the carpet.

Finally, with a grunt, Guts let out a long breath and released the tension in his shoulders. The sword dropped with a heavy thunk against the ground, his stance loosening. He wasn’t about to cut down a child. Not yet.

“I will ask you again. Who are you, girl?” His voice was a low growl, the sound scraping against the walls.

Silence.

“Where’re you from? You know what this place is?” His eye narrowed further, searching her face for any flicker of recognition.

But again, nothing. Just that same blank stare, her bamboo muzzle catching the light.

He frowned. “Hnh. Can’t talk, huh?”

On impulse, he reached forward, massive fingers closing around the wooden muzzle. With a tug, he pulled it free. “Who the hell sticks something like this on a kid…” He muttered, turning the object over in his hand before tossing it aside.

But still, she said nothing. Her lips parted faintly, her expression unchanged. Only her eyes followed him, unblinking.

Guts scratched the back of his head, exhaling sharply through his nose. “Great. Dumb or just can’t talk. Figures I’d run into somethin’ like this here.”

For a moment, he considered leaving her behind. He wasn’t a nursemaid. He had his own ambitions, his own revenge to chase. What use did he have for a mute girl?

But when he turned and took his first step, the sound of small sandals padded after him.

He looked over his shoulder, brow furrowed. Sure enough, she was following, quiet as a shadow, her long hair brushing her haori with every step.

“…Tch.” He clicked his tongue, dragging a hand down his face. “Perfect. Just what I needed.”

He shifted the Dragonslayer back onto his shoulder, shaking his head with a frown. “Guess I’m a damn babysitter now.”

The two of them walked side by side, swallowed by the yellow halls. The buzzing lights followed. The endless maze stretched on.

And though neither spoke, there was a strange rhythm in their steps—as if, despite himself, Guts had accepted her presence.

—----------------------------------------

The three of them finally slowed to a halt, their steps dragging, breaths uneven. The endless yellow halls had begun to blur together, and the oppressive hum of the lights seemed to gnaw at their very nerves.

They found themselves in yet another room, this one slightly larger than most with two entrances open at opposite ends.

Issei lowered himself against the wall with a heavy sigh, sliding down until he sat on the floor. He ran a hand through his messy brown hair. “Man… this place doesn’t let up. Feels like we’ve been walking forever.”

Weiss sat down beside him, her movements stiff and careful, her rapier set across her lap as though she’d need it at any moment. Her usually perfect posture had slumped, fatigue creeping in, though she tried to hide it behind a frown. “This… this is ridiculous,” she muttered, her voice carrying both anger and exhaustion. “No end, no sense of direction. Just… walls, halls, and more walls. How can anyone endure this?”

Yuuka dropped down on Issei’s other side, her pipe clattering faintly against the floor as she set it down. Sweat clung to her forehead, strands of her long black hair sticking to her cheek. She pulled her knees up to her chest and exhaled shakily. “We really don’t have a choice. We can only just… keep moving.”

Silence followed, heavy and uncomfortable. Each of them glanced toward the doorways every so often, paranoia keeping them alert despite their exhaustion. The shadows in those hallways never stopped looking like something could crawl out of them at any second.

Finally, Issei broke the silence. He pushed himself a little straighter and looked at the two of them, determination softening into a rare seriousness. “Hey. If you guys want to sleep, go ahead. I’ll take the first watch.”

Both girls immediately turned their heads toward him, blinking in surprise.

“What? No. That’s not—” Yuuka started, but her words were cut off by a sudden yawn that escaped her lips. Her cheeks flushed red, and she quickly looked away, embarrassed.

Weiss also opened her mouth to argue, her blue eyes sharp. “You can’t seriously expect us to—” A quiet yawn slipped past her lips as well, betraying her fatigue. She stiffened instantly, cheeks burning with irritation at her own body’s betrayal. “Tch…”

Issei chuckled, the sound light and warm despite their grim surroundings. “See? You’re both dead tired. No point in pushing yourselves right now. I’ll keep watch, and when it’s my turn, I’ll wake one of you up. Promise.”

Yuuka looked at him for a long moment, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. She wanted to argue, she hated feeling like dead weight, but the heaviness dragging at her body was undeniable. Weiss, too, lingered in hesitation, her pride urging her to refuse. But exhaustion dulled her sharp edge.

Eventually, neither of them could muster the strength to fight his reasoning.

“…Fine,” Weiss said quietly, voice clipped. “But only this once.”

“Same,” Yuuka added reluctantly, shifting in place. “Don’t overdo it, though.”

Issei grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Relax. I’ll be fine. Just trust me, okay?”

Yuuka gave a small sigh and, after a moment’s hesitation, leaned against his right shoulder. Her hair brushed against his sleeve.

Weiss, after a tense pause, did the same on his left side. She stiffened at first, glaring sideways as if daring him to say something smug. But Issei didn’t. He just smiled softly, staying still so they could rest comfortably.

Within moments, their breathing slowed. Yuuka’s hand loosened around her knees, and Weiss’s grip on Myrtenaster slackened slightly, though her fingers never fully let go.

Issei sat between them, staring out into the room. The two entrances loomed like waiting mouths, shadows shifting as though watching him..

His heart was heavy. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up. He wasn’t sure if they would ever escape this maze. But as he felt the soft weight of their heads on his shoulders, something stirred inside him—a responsibility, a purpose. ‘I must keep them safe.’

Finally done. This was kind of hard to write as this story is kind of different from the rest as the Backroom's gloomy atmosphere makes emotions run wild. Making you see things or hear things that aren't there. Kind of a jerk move to give Yuuka and Miki’s backstory here and not on Dimensional Watch. If people want to know it they will just have to read this story. What do you think of our two new characters? Do you think I wrote them correctly? Comment and tell me if I made any mistakes.