The world unfolding before my eyes had descended into utter chaos.
Countless buildings that must once have brimmed with life lay collapsed and shattered, swallowed by seas of flame.
The frenzied screams of countless people echoed all around.
They screamed, collapsed, were slain, and died.
The sheer volume of blood flowing everywhere filled the air with the distinctive metallic tang of iron and the foul, rotting stench unique to death, making it hard to even breathe.
I observed the scene from what could barely be called my current "base"—a filthy, unsanitary ruin.
Boring.
A faint flicker of emotion told me that boredom was truly a frightening thing.
I had once thought despair was something unknowable, but after being shown it so many times, predicting it had become almost effortless.
In the end, what she had said was only temporary.
That much had always been obvious. Yet it was something I had wished would change.
Once again, the man acknowledged what it was he truly sought.
To find a place for tonight's meal, he began moving in search of a new base.
Even if the entire world were swallowed by despair and plunged into chaos, it meant nothing to him.
He possessed "luck," so death would never claim him. Even if he endured harsh conditions akin to "uninhabited island survival" day after day, he could live until his natural lifespan ran out.
After walking a short distance from his previous location, a town came into view. Without any particular caution, he stepped into it.
Collapsed bricks, scattered corpses everywhere, discolored blood clinging to the walls.
A shopping district that seemed to stretch endlessly along a wide road. High-rise buildings too numerous to count at a glance.
Naturally, both were heavily damaged.
This place, too, had once been full of life, but such changes could not halt the man's steps.
A few minutes later, thanks to his "luck," he found a place where food supplies still remained.
Lights were installed, making it easy to see. It was clearly a department store that had been maintained by human hands.
For the first time, the man halted—and at the same instant, shifted his body sideways.
"…!? Who the hell are you?"
The moment he stopped, a figure who had been hiding in the shadows closed the distance in a flash and swung a Japanese sword downward.
A massive cloud of dust rose from the spot where the blade struck. The sheer power made it clear that a direct hit would have been fatal.
The attacker was a woman—wearing a white outfit resembling a special-attack suit, a sarashi wrapped around her chest, red stains scattered across the fabric in an eccentric ensemble.
Her face showed surprise at missing what should have been a perfect opening for a preemptive strike, but it quickly returned to an expressionless mask.
She was not sane.
In truth, the vivid crimson eyes visible through her glasses swirled in multiple layers, as if drawing in some chaotic mess.
"A remnant of despair. If I recall correctly, a hitman who possessed the talent of a swordmaster."
"…What do you know?"
"Nothing."
Paying no particular attention to the woman who held no interest for him, the man turned his back toward the pile of supplies.
But the hand that reached out grasped not food, but the hilt of the Japanese sword. She had attacked again.
"At this point, I don't care who you are. But those supplies belong to the young master. I will not permit you to take them without permission."
"If you wish to 'guarantee ownership rights,' then offer a slightly more reasonable argument."
With those words, the man released the bamboo sword whose interior concealed a real blade.
At the same time, the woman took a backstep, adjusting the distance between them.
"I need no guarantee. Everything in this area has already been decided to belong to the young master. I have no intention of giving even a single fragment to a man like you."
"If you attempt to take anything next… as the young master's 'tool,' I will eliminate the intruder."
As she spoke these words calmly, the corners of her mouth gradually rose, eventually twisting into an eerie smile.
It was the smile of someone who took pleasure in murder.
"A tool that possesses emotion. Truly despair-inducing… Boring."
"Die."
"Stop right there, Peko."
At those words, the woman froze perfectly in place, dropped to her knees, and bowed her head.
The man who emerged from the shadows alongside two bodyguards looked at the mechanical movement of his "tool" and laughed with genuine, heartfelt amusement.
"Yo, visitor. I'm the one who rules this area."
"And?"
"Those supplies? They're mine. If you want them, leave something of equal value. A 'contract' of exchange. If you can't do that… then die right now."
The small-statured boy wearing a hat and concealing his right eye with an eyepatch spoke with a grin.
Boring.
History had proven it time and again, yet here was another "incompetent tyrant" clinging to oppressive rule solely for personal gain—nothing more than that level of existence.
Like the woman, the small boy's eyes were a chaotic swirl of mixed emotions.
"Demanding I enter into a clichéd contract?"
"Yeah, not a bad deal, right? That way, you get to keep your life."
"Boring."
"…Then there's no helping it. Peko—as my 'tool,' I order you to kill him."
No one intervened to halt the rapidly escalating exchange.
"Yes, young master. As you command."
In that space, the girl charged forward at a speed that surpassed human comprehension.
The ravaging began.
.
.
.
"You're finally awake, Kamukura-kun."
As I opened my eyelids, the first thing to enter my vision was the dazzling glare of the midsummer sun.
The light was too intense for me to make out anything clearly, but a clear, beautiful voice reached my ears alone.
My mind accelerated without any lingering drowsiness, grasping the situation in an instant.
A dream—at the same time, a memory tucked away in a corner of my mind.
It was a rare phenomenon, and though I felt a faint inward reaction to it, I directed my attention toward dealing with the present.
"Putting your feet up on the bench is bad manners, you know."
The beautiful voice coming from directly beside me stimulated my hearing once more.
I turned my face toward the person producing that calm tone.
A beautiful girl with translucent, pale aqua hair that caught and reflected the sunlight.
My classmate, Hiyori Shiina, was gazing at me with a captivating, enchanting smile.
"It's a habit."
I lowered the leg that had been resting on the bench and placed both feet on the insulated ground.
It felt no different from asphalt, I noted, as I visually confirmed the endless summer sea stretching out before me.
"A habit, is it?"
"Fufu, I did think I should scold you a little more, but since I got to see something nice, I'll let it go for today."
"Something nice?"
Smiling gently, she placed the paperback she had been holding onto her lap and rested a hand against her cheek.
"Kamukura-kun's sleeping face."
"Isn't that boring?"
"No. A childlike expression I could never imagine from the usual you—it wasn't boring at all."
She continued speaking with the same smile as before.
The pure, malice-free praise somehow made me feel uncomfortably itchy.
—Without reason, and without stirring any interest.
"I poked your cheek, but you didn't wake up, so you must have been quite exhausted."
"…It seems so."
For Izuru Kamukura to fall into deep sleep in front of another person, and to remain unconscious even when touched—it appeared I had unconsciously judged her to be harmless.
"Fufu, but I understand the feeling. This warm sunshine, the clear sea breeze that wards off the heat… On such a wonderful ocean, anyone would want to take a nap."
Sea breeze. On the ocean.
The reason I could feel them was simple, we were currently traveling across the sea.
"The school is quite generous, isn't it? Giving high school students a trip this luxurious."
The rays from the divinely radiant sun passed through an infinite, cloudless sky and were swallowed into the sea that carried endless breezes.
The deck of the luxury cruise ship that welcomed us was a work of art.
This view alone could serve as one cherished memory of summer vacation.
Amid the long-awaited start of summer break, why were we able to enjoy such extravagance?
The reason is every first-year student and their homeroom teachers at Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School were, starting today—August 1st—embarking on a two-week, extraordinarily luxurious trip.
To briefly explain just how extraordinary it was...
The plan was to spend the first week enjoying summer at a pension built on an uninhabited island, followed by a week of lodging aboard the ship.
The artistic vista visible from the deck I mentioned earlier.
A theater fully equipped for entertainment, a high-class spa.
Multiple private pools on the rooftop, available at any time, with swimsuits available for borrowing.
Numerous other luxurious services—all provided free of charge. Truly extravagant.
To put it plainly, it was abnormal.
"Are you suggesting, as before, that there's something hidden beneath the surface?"
"Yes. We must remain cautious even while enjoying ourselves."
The school's educational policy—having students practically experience and internalize what is necessary for society—was admirable in its own way, but this time it carried a nasty edge.
The vast gap between the possibility of being dropped from paradise into hell would surely give rise to a flood of negative emotions.
As expected, Hiyori's expression twisted slightly at my words.
While a heavy atmosphere lingered, she shaped her own thoughts into words.
"If something happens from now on, could it perhaps involve physical activity? I'd really prefer to avoid that if possible."
"There will definitely come a time when physical ability is required. Though I don't know if it will be this time."
"…Kamukura-kun, I'm terrible at anything athletic. Will I be all right going forward?"
Her eyes darkened slightly as she self-deprecatingly revealed her weakness.
It was clearly a longstanding concern.
"You won't be."
"…That's harsh."
Hiyori Shiina was indeed intelligent, possessed strong academic ability, and while not quite superhuman analytical skill, her analytical prowess was still considerable.
Yet the school was not lenient enough to evaluate students solely on those qualities.
The proof is she was in Class C. If judged only on academics, there was reason she could have reached Class A.
For her, physical ability was precisely the obstacle.
"You aren't being pressed for immediate improvement, so simply overcome it gradually. That's all."
"Fufu, you're right. It seems I'll have no choice but to work at it slowly, over time."
"…By the way, Kamukura-kun—have you finished the book I lent you?"
Shifting abruptly from her earlier gloom, she directed a sparkling gaze at me. It was frankly irritating.
The book she had lent me—The A.B.C. Murders—was indeed finished.
Yet I felt sorry for her expectant eyes; it hadn't been particularly interesting.
Precisely because I had finished it, I had been sleeping here until moments ago.
Without lingering in the afterglow, I closed the book and surrendered to the drowsiness born of the warm, comforting sunlight.
"I did."
A perfunctory reply.
I was aware of my own lack of sociability and curt demeanor.
"That expression means it was boring, doesn't it?"
"Not quite to the point of boring. To be precise, it served well enough as a way to kill time."
"…But I'm still happy you read it."
Even at my pointed manner of speaking, she smiled gently just as before.
Yet she was human too—so deep down, a faint stirring of anger and bewilderment at the unnecessary harshness must have been swirling within her.
"I do have some thoughts on it."
It was time to humor her a little.
She twitched, her body reacting with the swift eagerness of a hungry fish snapping at a lure before it even began to mimic real prey, leaning her face closer to mine.
"Even just a little—was there something interesting!?"
"No, not exactly interesting. It's just that the version of The A.B.C. Murders I read before was entirely in English, so I noticed some differences in expression compared to the Japanese translation."
"I see. That's a fascinating observation."
She rested a hand on her chin, letting out a thoughtful hum as she considered it.
She was probably pondering the differences in expressive techniques between English and Japanese, though expecting a mere high school student to grapple with that topic was asking a bit much.
For example, even something as simple as expressing time differs between the languages.
English is strict about time; Japanese is far more relaxed.
English has fixed grammatical structures for tenses—present, past, future.
In Japanese, there are countless ways to say "eat" like taberu, kuu, kuchi ni suru. In English present tense, it's simply "eat." Past tense versions like tabeta, kutta, kuchi ni shita all become "ate." If you decide right now to eat later, it's "will eat." If the future is already set, "be going to eat." If you're just about to eat, "be about to eat."
Compared to that kind of cumbersome complexity, Japanese is straightforward; for present, end the verb with "suru"; for past, "shita"; for future, "suru tsumori da" or "suru yotei da."
There's no need to change the expression for minor temporal nuances.
Ever since classical Japanese, the only past-tense auxiliaries were "ki" and "keri," so it hardly seems strange that the language is lenient with time.
Of course, Japanese can convey time or season without explicit past markers, but pursuing that further would make this too lengthy, so I'll stop here.
Even skimming the surface yields this much information, which shows that the interpretive differences introduced by translation—the so-called language barrier—are no small obstacle.
"...I'll work harder on my English. I've realized once again that without breaking through the language barrier, truly understanding a book is impossible."
As she spoke, fierce curiosity blazed like flames in her eyes.
Her hands were clenched into fists, her posture radiating determination.
"So, Kamukura-kun... um, if you wouldn't mind... could you teach me Eng—"
The moment she started to ask, the surroundings erupted into noise.
A swell of excited voices drowned out her soft, delicate one.
"W-What is it? What's going on?"
She gripped the deck railing and scanned the view.
The island was now clearly visible to the naked eye.
It seemed we were arriving.
"Huh? It's... circling?"
Hiyori's bewildered voice rang out.
The ship, which everyone had assumed would dock, inexplicably bypassed the pier and began circling the island.
"...That's odd."
I agreed. It might simply be giving us a full view of the island where we'd be staying.
But everything suspicious should be treated as suspicious.
There had been philosophers who doubted every phenomenon to arrive at truth, so a degree of skepticism—and caution toward anything unnatural—was warranted.
Unnaturally hollowed rock formations. A forest maintained to a certain height.
Cabins that stood out precisely because they were made to blend with nature, making them feel unnatural instead. Caves—no, caverns, perhaps.
An iron tower and a fallen giant tree.
And a beach with what appeared to be artificially planted palm trees.
The island's area was roughly 0.5 km², with a peak elevation of 230 meters.
Far too large for a little over a hundred people to spend their time.
Ah, yes—I nearly forgot something important.
After surveying it all, I realized there was no pension or anything resembling one on the island.
Where, and how, were they planning to have us live?
Any intelligent person could guess the answer.
Dropping people onto an island with no base for living, and making them do one thing.
That was—
"—Survival."
"...What do you mean?"
"You'll understand soon enough. Besides, it's almost time."
I stood from the bench, holding the book I'd borrowed from her.
Then I turned my back and began walking away.
The last glimpse I caught of her face showed clear unease, but there was no need to explain.
She would figure it out on her own soon enough.
[We will now disembark onto the isolated island owned by the school.]
[All students are to change into jerseys within thirty minutes, thoroughly check your assigned bags and belongings, ensure you have your mobile phones, and assemble on the deck.]
[Please leave all other personal items in your rooms. Additionally, as there may be no opportunity to use the restroom for some time, please take care of that beforehand.]
As expected, the announcement regarding disembarkation played.
...
Wearing the jerseys used even in physical education classes, we began disembarking, starting with Class A.
All first-year students gathered near the shore where the sandy beach was clearly visible.
Some moved briskly and efficiently; others strolled lazily while chatting.
Seeing such a varied, disorganized mass of people all uniformed in identical jerseys felt almost comical.
A short while after disembarking, attendance was taken simultaneously across all classes, and we submitted the mobile phones we had brought.
Once that was done, a tall teacher stepped forward and ascended a prepared white platform.
His well-trained physique made him look like a coach, but he was actually the English teacher and Class A homeroom instructor, Mashima-sensei.
"I am glad we have arrived safely at this location today. Yet at the same time, I deeply regret that one student was unable to participate due to illness."
Bad luck.
But it didn't matter who was absent, so I shifted my focus to what actually interested me.
The teachers wore grim expressions. Dozens of adults in work clothes were setting up special tents and preparing electronic devices like computers.
If my prediction was correct, those were preparations to ensure the students' safety.
Mashima-sensei, who had been silent until now, slowly scanned each student.
The natural sounds like the gentle lapping of waves and the sea breeze were overshadowed by artificial mechanical noise.
The students began to show signs of confusion in that atmosphere.
Finally, Mashima-sensei delivered his cold declaration.
"Now, we will commence this year's first special exam."
The air filled with questions; nearly everyone was still lost in illusion.
I surveyed the crowd for those who weren't immersed—those remaining calm.
From Class A is several like the bald student who stood in contrast to me, the blond boy among Sakayanagi's entourage, and... a girl named Masumi, if I recalled correctly.
From Class B is several as well. Ichinose maintained a dignified composure, and the well-featured boy beside her was equally calm.
From Class D is an exception, it's just only one. The eccentric who stood ramrod straight while making his nails gleam under the blazing sun, Rokusuke Kouenji.
—And the king of Class C, grinning with an eerie smirk.
"The exam will last one week, ending at noon on August 7th. For the next seven days, you will live as groups on this uninhabited island—this will be the test."
"Live on an uninhabited island... does that mean we're staying here instead of on the ship?"
A student from Class C, standing a couple of rows behind me, raised their hand despite clear confusion and posed the obvious question to Mashima-sensei.
"Correct. Boarding the ship during the exam is not permitted without valid reason. You must provide all clothing, food, and shelter yourselves on this island."
"At the start, each class will be supplied with two tents, two flashlights, one box of matches, and one toothbrush per person.
"As a special exception, female students may request unlimited sanitary products. Please speak to your homeroom teacher. That is all from me."
The flow was exactly as predicted, and boredom crept back in.
A sense of lethargy wrapped around me, and to stave it off, I turned my gaze toward nothing in particular.
Still unable to accept the situation, a Class D student I'd seen before in the library shouted at Mashima-sensei.
Mashima-sensei responded calmly and convinced them.
Such exchanges continued.
My interest was piqued only after hearing that the theme of this special exam was "freedom."
"In this uninhabited island special exam, the fundamental rule is that each class will be granted 300 dedicated exam points."
"You can use these points wisely to enjoy the exam. A manual has been prepared for that purpose."
He held what appeared to be that manual—a thick booklet.
"It lists everything obtainable with points, from daily necessities to entertainment. For example, if you want to hold a barbecue, equipment and ingredients can be provided."
As he spoke, the students' expressions gradually softened.
"Let me be clear. There will be no negative impact on the second semester or beyond. And there is nothing difficult about it."
"As I said earlier, this exam is entirely about freedom. There are minimum rules for group living, but none are hard to follow."
He preemptively addressed the boring questions that would likely arise to keep the explanation smooth.
At this rate, it sounded like nothing more than a pleasant vacation disguised as an exam.
The fact that the full picture of the test remained hidden offered a slight thrill, but the next revelation reduced it to nothing.
"Upon completion of this special exam, all remaining points in each class will be added to your class points and reflected after summer break."
A distinctive "kuku" laugh reached my ears.
It seemed his prediction had been correct as well.
In short, by enduring one week, a class could gain up to 300 additional class points starting next month.
And academics played no role—after all, this was survival.
Thus, the class point rankings, which had never truly shifted before, would finally change.
A true—class war.
"Each class will receive one manual. Reissues are possible in case of loss, but they cost points, so keep them safe."
"Additionally, the student absent from this trip is from Class A. According to the rules, if a student retires due to poor health or similar reasons, the class incurs a 30-point penalty."
"Therefore, Class A will start with 270 points."
Hmm. So the absent one was Sakayanagi.
I'd wondered when I didn't see her—given her condition, this uninhabited island would indeed be harsh.
"That concludes the explanation. Does anyone have questions or anything unclear?"
No one responded to his deep voice over the megaphone.
He scanned the students one by one for final confirmation.
Yet a hand shot high into the air.
It was mine.
There was no advantage in asking questions here.
It would only give hints to those who still hadn't grasped the situation.
I could almost hear Ryuuen scolding me later, "Ask that crap privately."
But that didn't matter.
Allowing this boring exam to proceed as-is would be far more tedious for me.
"You have permission to ask."
Every gaze in the place turned toward me.
No tension.
Rather, this kind of attention was a fate I'd shouldered ever since being born as the Ultimate Hope.
"I have two questions. First, you said there would be no negative effects going forward—but what happens if the 300 points fall below zero?"
"That will not be an issue. Points cannot go below zero. Even if you use them all, the minimum remains zero."
"I see. Then the second."
Perhaps because my wording wasn't the usual polite student-to-teacher tone, I drew disapproving glares from Class A students.
Ignoring them, I continued.
"Are the 300 points—transferable...?"
Silence.
A sea breeze swept across the midsummer beach, kicking up grains of sand.
Students from other classes wore expressions of "What is he talking about?"
Ichinose, Ryuuen, Kushida, the bald student, the black-haired beauty from Class D, and even the plain-looking boy—all the same.
In an exam where enduring meant a substantial allowance of class points in the second semester, my question implied giving that allowance away—an absurd notion.
Trying to understand or discern my intent would seem foolish.
Indeed, scattered mocking laughter broke out.
"...It is possible. Just as points can be spent to purchase items, they can be spent in the sense of 'investing' in another class."
"Incidentally, anyone may use points by reporting to their homeroom teacher each time. However, the point transfer you mention is not available to just anyone."
"That will be explained later by each homeroom teacher in relation to the 'leader,' so ask there."
Mashima-sensei answered my question seriously.
I heard mutters from all directions—"What would you even use that for?"—but I ignored them.
I didn't consider it absolutely necessary at this stage either.
Yet, as I had said hours earlier, doubt everything doubtful.
To exploit the rules' loopholes, one must fully grasp every rule and defy others' predictions.
This was part of that process—a means to thicken the path toward the desired outcome and raise the probability of success.
Because I possess luck, victory is guaranteed without obsessing over process.
In other words, the result comes on its own.
...Truly boring.
The only thing I can enjoy is the process itself.
"No further questions? ...Then this concludes the announcement. Dismiss by class."
Perhaps because my question had eaten into the time, Mashima-sensei wrapped things up quickly.
Afterward, another teacher with a megaphone appeared and directed us toward our respective homeroom teachers.
The classes began to gather and keeping distance from one another.
***
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