Anime Crossover: Tokyo Reincarnation Game — Chapter 95

Chapter 95: The Corridor of Evil Spirits

“Necro, fall back,” Asuna said, her brow furrowing slightly. “They’ve already given a warning. Pushing forward now is just asking for an ambush.”

Kotoko nodded, her deep purple eyes scanning the suffocating darkness ahead. She shifted her weight, foot hovering as if to press on, but ultimately shook her head and pivoted back toward safety.

Before Asuna could even let out a breath of relief, the shadows shifted. Less than five meters behind Kotoko, a figure slithered out from the canvas of a framed oil painting. It wore a filthy white dress smeared with sickly, vibrant streaks of paint. Bare feet touched the floorboards without a sound. Matted black hair obscured its face, leaving only a pair of eyes burning with pure, concentrated malice. It began a slow, creeping advance toward Kotoko’s exposed back.

Asuna and Megumi stiffened. Both opened their mouths to shout a warning, but Kotoko simply raised her left hand, her back still turned, and flashed a crisp silencing gesture.

Oblivious to the silent exchange, the paint-stained evil spirit stalked her prey.

Seven meters. Five meters.

When Kotoko stepped within five meters of the living room door, the spirit paused. As if deciding the prey had left its hunting grounds, the entity stopped, slowly turning its grotesque frame to crawl back into the canvas.

Crack.

Kotoko casually raised her cane and swept a framed oil painting off the wall. The sharp, violent shatter of glass ripped through the dead silence of the corridor, freezing the evil spirit mid-turn.

“Oh dear,” Kotoko chimed, tapping her head lightly with her knuckles and sticking her tongue out. “I’m just so clumsy today.”

Hat Mita, waiting obediently by the door, watched the display. Like a perfect mirror, the NPC mimicked Kotoko’s playful gesture, tapping her own head and sticking her tongue out, silently competing to see who looked cuter.

The malice in the evil spirit’s eyes flared into a raging inferno. But before the creature could lunge, Kotoko raised her cane and, dropping the cute act entirely, smashed a second painting to pieces.

That snapped the final thread. The spirit unhinged its jaw, unleashing an ear-piercing shriek. It threw itself forward, paint-drenched claws swiping madly at Kotoko’s back.

“Violet, help me~” Kotoko sang out.

“Coming.”

Hearing the screech closing in, Kotoko dashed two steps forward and dropped into a sudden crouch. The moment she ducked, a longsword shimmering with cold, lethal light filled the spirit’s vision.

“Stinger.”

A blinding flash erupted from the tip of the Exorcist Longsword. The blade crossed the three-meter gap in a fraction of a second, burying itself deep into the evil spirit’s shoulder.

It wasn’t a miscalculation on Asuna’s part.

“Leader!” Asagiri watched Asuna ride the momentum of her thrust right into the creature’s face. He spoke a single, quiet command.

“Castling.”

The air warped. Asuna vanished from the corridor, and Asagiri materialized in her exact position, his hand resting casually in his pocket.

The evil spirit’s eyes widened in renewed hatred, but it didn’t dare attack the man standing inches away. Instead, it scrambled backward, desperate to retreat into its canvas.

“Demi-Fiend.”

Before the spirit could take a single step, two pitch-black, spectral hands erupted from the void, clamping down on its shoulders like a vice.

The moment the grip tightened, the spirit let out a shrill, agonizing wail. The sheer frequency of the scream shattered the glass of every framed painting lining the corridor walls.

Dozens of canvases crashed to the floor in unison. From the ruined frames, dozens more paint-stained evil spirits began to drag themselves into the real world.

“Calling for backup, huh…” Asuna murmured. She stepped forward, her blade flashing in a merciless arc, mirroring Asagiri’s brutal efficiency from the Hotel dungeon. With a few sickening shlucks, she severed the first spirit’s limbs entirely. Grabbing the shrieking torso by its matted hair, she dragged it backward toward the living room door.

By now, the vanguard of the newly spawned evil spirits had closed in on Asagiri.

“Netherworld Grip.”

Before their filthy claws could graze his clothes, a colossal, pale ghost hand tore through the space above them. The massive fingers snapped shut, crushing several spirits into a bloody paste of ectoplasm and paint, accompanied by a chorus of dying shrieks.

“Leader!”

Hearing Asuna’s call, Asagiri turned. She had already hauled the limbless ‘human stick’ into Hat Mita’s apartment. He didn’t waste a breath. Commanding the Demi-Fiend to hold the chokepoint against the surging horde, he sprinted for the doorway.

He was less than two meters away when an inky, trembling hand shot out from a fallen canvas, its cold fingers wrapping tight around his ankle.

A flash of deep purple steel cut through the gloom.

Kato Megumi, who had been standing silently by the door frame the entire time, brought her ominous dagger down. Her face was a mask of absolute serenity, but her strike was ruthless. The blade plunged straight through the back of the spectral hand, pinning it to the floorboards.

“Hurry and go in,” Megumi said softly. The previous dungeon had sharpened her; even surrounded by screaming horrors, her voice didn’t waver.

Asagiri and Megumi crossed the threshold. Hat Mita slammed the heavy door shut, throwing her shoulder against the wood to secure the lock. The moment the latch clicked, the chaotic shrieking of the corridor vanished. The apartment was dead silent, as if the hallway outside belonged to a different dimension entirely.

“What… what exactly were those things?” Mita asked, her eyes wide with lingering panic.

Megumi stepped closer, her tone gentle. “Mita, have you never seen those things before? Did you not know they existed?”

Mita shook her head, nervously clutching her hands. “I don’t know… I didn’t even know there were other places in this world besides my own home. This room was my entire world.”

A brief wave of pity washed over Asuna. She opened her mouth to offer comfort, but Mita suddenly smiled brightly. The girl skipped right past them, throwing herself to Asagiri’s side with that familiar, swaying, cutesy motion.

“But as long as Player stays by my side, even if it’s just this one room, I’ll be very satisfied~”

Asuna and Kotoko’s expressions instantly darkened. Before either could voice their displeasure, Megumi drifted between Asagiri and Mita like a phantom, neatly wedging them apart.

“Mita, we can’t fully trust you yet, so please stay a bit further away from him, okay?”

Mita blinked, seemingly unable to process the hostile atmosphere. She just stared past Megumi, trying to read Asagiri’s face.

“That’s enough,” Asagiri said, his voice flat and commanding. “This is a dungeon. If you want to fight over a Shura field, save it for when we get back.”

He turned his attention to the limbless evil spirit dangling from Asuna’s grip. It had stopped screaming, opting instead to glare at everyone in the room with pure, unadulterated hatred. Asagiri walked over slowly.

Reading his intent, Asuna lifted the mutilated ghost like a plastic bag of groceries and presented it to him.

“Can you speak?” Asagiri asked.

The spirit said nothing. It just stared, its eyes burning with the desire to rip his throat out.

Asagiri raised his right hand and delivered a brutal, echoing backhand across the spirit’s face. Because Asuna was holding it by the hair, the force of the slap sent the limbless torso swinging back and forth like a gruesome pendulum.

“Woohoo~” Mita clapped her hands from the sidelines, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Let me hit it, let me hit it! It looks like so much fun~”

“Be my guest,” Asagiri said dryly.

Under the slightly disturbed gazes of Kotoko, Megumi, and Asuna, Mita skipped right up to the swinging ghost. A solid wooden baseball bat materialized in her grip. She casually adjusted her hat with one hand, planted her feet, twisted her hips to generate torque, and swung the bat directly into the spirit’s ribs.

BANG!

The impact was deafening. The sheer kinetic force turned the spirit into a fleshy yo-yo. Its long black hair wrapped tightly around Asuna’s forearm, carrying the body in a violent arc before it dropped down, swaying erratically.

“Woohoo~ Home run~” Mita cheered.

Asuna stared at the cheerful girl, a complicated expression on her face. “Mita, aren’t you scared at all?”

Mita tilted her head, genuinely confused. “Scared of what?” Before Asuna could clarify, Mita beamed. “Oh, I understand what you mean! But it’s okay. As long as Player is by my side, I’m not afraid of anything~”

Asuna sighed heavily, massaging her temples to ward off an incoming headache. “Alright, alright, I know you like him a lot. Can you stop emphasizing it?”

She really didn’t know how to handle this. Logically, as Asagiri’s official girlfriend, hearing another girl constantly confess to him should trigger jealousy. But Mita was literally programmed as a dating sim NPC. They had invaded her digital territory, and this bizarre affection was just a mechanic of her existence.

Asuna watched the playfully cute NPC swaying back and forth, completely unfazed by the mutilated ghost bleeding on the floor.

This dungeon, Asuna thought wearily, is pure psychological torture.

[Inorin’s Note: A “Shura field” (Shuraba) is Japanese slang often used in anime and manga to describe a chaotic scene of romantic conflict, jealousy, or a messy love triangle, likened to a battlefield of Asuras.]