Anime Crossover: Tokyo Reincarnation Game — Chapter 77

Chapter 77: The Ominous Dagger and the God of War’s Hand Sanitizer

“How did you know…?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Asagiri tilted his head, his gray mask hiding any trace of a smile. He looked at the two stunned players with mild amusement.

“It’s only been a little over three hours since the instance began. In that narrow window, you managed to leave the starting zone, handle the route to Mercy Hospital, and arrive right at my doorstep. That alone proves you aren’t bottom-feeders.”

He took a slow step forward, his boots crunching against the debris. “Factor in real-world time. Today is a Wednesday. A workday. If you were fresh meat who had only survived the tutorial, system regulations dictate you’d have a full month before your next mandatory run. A normal person would have waited for the weekend.”

The first male player’s brow furrowed. “You deduced all that just from the day of the week?”

“Hardly.” Asagiri shook his head, his tone analytical and entirely relaxed. “If you were unemployed or worked freelance, you might jump in on a Wednesday. But as I said, your arrival time proves competence. You didn’t enter this instance to hide in a closet for ten hours. You came to hunt for the second clear objective. You didn’t waste a single second hesitating.”

He raised two fingers. “Since you have ambition, this can’t be your second run. It’s been exactly sixteen days since the game launched. Even if you queued on day one, the three-day wait and one-week cooldown make a fourth instance mathematically impossible. Therefore, you are veterans of exactly two instances, including the tutorial.”

The two men exchanged a heavy look. The calmer of the two finally nodded, his shoulders dropping in defeat.

“You’re right. This is our third run. And I agree with your proposal—trading our gear for the antibody reagent in your hand is a win-win.”

A lesser player might have thought to just bypass Asagiri. If he had already cleared the hospital, why pay his toll? Why not just walk in, search for the reagent themselves, and only trade if they came up empty?

But these two weren’t stupid.

The hospital’s interior was an unknown variable. What was known stood right in front of them. The man in black, his face obscured by a gray mask, radiated an absolute, suffocating confidence. He was blocking the entrance, actively soliciting trades. You don’t do that unless you have the power to slaughter anyone who disagrees.

Trying to pull a fast one? If they provoked him, they’d be dead before they could regret it.

Still, human nature demanded a compromise. They had agreed to trade valuable items, but the masked man didn’t know their inventory. They couldn’t offer literal garbage, but surely they didn’t have to surrender their absolute best gear?

As if reading the exact trajectory of their thoughts, Asagiri spoke up, his voice cutting through the chill air.

“Oh, a small addendum. If the items you offer genuinely impress me, I’ll throw in the underlying truth of this instance. You didn’t uncover the lore yourselves, but simply hearing it from me will guarantee a massive boost to your clear rating. Two minor grades, minimum. Maybe even a full major grade.”

The players stiffened. The bait was painfully effective. In their previous settlements, uncovering hidden rules had yielded massive bonus points. And this monster was offering the core truth on a silver platter?

“However,” Asagiri added, his tone dropping an octave. “I’m not running a charity. My patience is incredibly thin. You get exactly one chance. Offer me something mediocre, and you don’t just lose the lore. You lose the reagent.”

Silence stretched between them. The calmer player gritted his teeth, slowly extending his right hand. A dark purple glow materialized in his palm, coalescing into a jagged dagger. The weapon bled a faint, malicious aura. The man looked like he was physically sick parting with it.

“This is the best thing I own.”

“Let’s see.” Asagiri stepped into their personal space without a hint of hesitation. He tapped the dagger with his right hand while pulling out his phone with his left to scan the data. His utter lack of defensive posture terrified the two men more than a drawn weapon would have; he clearly didn’t view them as threats.

[Ominous Dagger: Equipment (Quality: Blue, Excellent)]

[A dagger forged from an unknown, highly durable material. Infused with a malicious aura. When dealing damage to biological entities, it amplifies the physical pain of the wound and inflicts severe mental interference upon the target.]

Asagiri read the text and gave a short nod. “Blue-tier weaponry. Acceptable.”

The older player swallowed hard, his expression twisting. His absolute best trump card… was merely ‘acceptable’ to this guy? What kind of monster was he dealing with? Had this masked freak scored perfect S-ranks in both his previous runs?

“And you?” Asagiri shifted his gaze to the second man.

The second player let out a long, defeated sigh. With trembling fingers, he produced a small, unassuming plastic bottle.

[Magic Hand Sanitizer (Disposable Item, Quality: Purple, Excellent)]

[A miraculous healing fluid most famously used by a certain fatherly god of war. Its restorative properties completely defy biological logic. Pouring this sanitizer over an injury instantly neutralizes all localized pain and forces the flesh to knit back together at a visible rate. Drawback: Bound by an obscure law of causality, the bottle loses all efficacy the moment it is opened. Even if only a single drop is used, the remainder becomes useless water.]

“Oh?” Asagiri’s eyes narrowed in genuine interest. “I didn’t expect you to carry something this amusing.”

The player’s heart bled at the praise. He knew the brutal economics of the early game. Skills, talents, and classes were king. Reusable equipment came second. Consumables were the absolute bottom of the barrel.

Yes, the sanitizer was a literal lifesaver. But it was a one-and-done panic button. In a high-speed deathmatch, you rarely had the luxury of unscrewing a bottle. He needed permanent power, not a situational insurance policy. Trading a purple consumable for a guaranteed high-tier clear rating and survival was the only logical play.

“We have a deal.”

Asagiri swept the dagger and the bottle into his inventory. He tossed the two glass vials of antibody reagent through the air. The players scrambled to catch them.

“Now, as for the truth of this hospital…” Asagiri leaned against the concrete wall, casually unraveling the dark lore of the instance.

Minutes later, the system confirmed their clearance. The two men dissolved into particles of white light, vanishing from the ruined courtyard.

The moment the air settled, Yuuki Asuna stepped out from the shadows of the hospital wall. She had been listening to the entire exchange in total silence.

She crossed her arms, her amber eyes studying him with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “I honestly thought you were going to take their gear and then butcher them. Or just torture them until they emptied their inventories.”

Asagiri turned to her, a dry chuckle escaping his lips. “Why would you assume that? Exactly what kind of psychopathic image do you have of me?”

Asuna’s lips curved into a knowing smile. She stepped closer, her tone light and teasing. “With your track record? I think it’s a perfectly valid assumption. Shouldn’t you be doing some self-reflection?”

“If I were playing solo, I probably would have bled them dry,” Asagiri admitted smoothly, his gaze locking onto hers.

He closed the distance between them, his voice dropping into a softer, yet entirely deliberate cadence. “But I’m your partner now. If I started slaughtering people who surrendered, it would upset you. A clash in our operational styles ruins our cooperation. Worst-case scenario, it drives you away.”

He reached out, lightly brushing a stray strand of chestnut hair from her shoulder. “And compared to a pile of mediocre loot, your position in my heart is infinitely more valuable.”

[Inorin’s Note: The “fatherly god of war” and his “magic hand sanitizer” is a famous Chinese gaming community meme referring to Ethan Winters from Resident Evil 7 and Resident Evil Village. In those games, Ethan survives horrific mutilations (like having his hand chopped off) and simply reattaches his limbs by pouring a bottle of First Aid Med—which looks exactly like a bottle of hand sanitizer—over the stump, earning him the ironic title of a “God of War”.]