Prologue

Chapter 2: The prophecy of Hagakure

Tartarus Keep

11:30

As Yume entered his room, I was left as the only person standing in the corridor, mimicking my condition right after I woke up. I knew there were definitely others trapped here in the same manner as I was; now was the time to go out there and meet them. After all, the balance sheet would not be balanced unless all items had been taken into account, be they assets or liabilities.

With one route closed at the time being, I headed for the other one. Along the hallway, there were plenty of cameras and monitors hanging from the ceiling, a feature that struck odd with the overall medieval feeling of the castle. I could not imagine who was on the other side watching us and waiting to make a broadcast. I knew for sure, however, that they were committing a severe violation of human rights by doing this. This was an infringement of both personal freedom and privacy. Even if this was nothing more than an elaborate prank, I would still sue whoever behind this for putting me here without my prior knowledge and consent.

Along the way, I asked myself what might have happened to my family. I did not respond to their last email which was three days ago. I now regret that decision. With no laptop and no signal on my mobile phone, there was no way I could be in touch with them at least for a while. I wondered how were they at the moment. Had the kidnappers informed them about my captivity? Were they blissfully enjoying their lives not knowing the peril I was in? Or could it be that this was all a joke and they were watching me from those cameras all along? Whichever the case, I hoped they were all right.

I was so deep in thoughts about my family that when a stranger stepped out from behind one of the decoration armors at the entrance to the next room from the hallway and pulled me in, I had little time to react, let alone resist.

"Let go of me," I demanded, which the boy complied, much to my relief. He gestured me to keep quiet, which I pondered whether I should comply or not. While I was certain at this point he meant no harm to me, the fact he pulled me into this spot when nobody else was around aroused my suspicion regarding his shady motive. "What is this all about?"

"Let's keep this conversation to ourselves," he said. He looked around for a few seconds to make sure the corridor was devoid of souls other than the two of us now that Rin and Yume had both retreated to their private quarter for the time being. He then continued, "What I am about to discuss is a matter of great importance, a matter of life-and-death for not only myself but each and every person locked in this place. The fewer people know about it the better."

"How so?" I asked. "If you do have important information, wouldn't it be wise to share it with the rest of the group? I mean, we can work together on this and get out of here together."

"You trust strangers too much," the fellow replied firmly. He was lanky and had fairly tanned skin. His hair was long and messy, resembling a birdnest rather than a human head. Given my own strength, the fact he was able to pull me in betrayed the strength beneath his rather unimpressive build. The fellow wore a voluminous beige trenchcoat with many pockets on the outside (and probably many on the insides as well).

"Then what makes you more trustworthy?" I asked.

"You can use your intuition to determine that," he said simply.

"Then why do you trust me?" I echoed.

The boy shrugged. "Intuition." His answers were far from helping me overcome my paranoia.

Perhaps sensing my agitation, the boy went on, "Look, Mason, I have been working on my own for long enough that I know who is trustworthy and who is not at the first sight. Believe it or not, my intuition has never failed me once." That was hardly convincing. As an accountant, the order of recognition from the highest to the lowest would consist of what was apparent before my very eyes, followed by what I had learned from credible sources, and then my intuition. Rationality dictated that intuition must only be used in the face of extreme uncertainty and that someone relied on it all the time was a contradiction to the value I held.

I frowned. "Have we met? How do you know my name?" I certainly had no idea who I was talking to.

"I overheard your conversation earlier with that police officer and that magical boy," he answered. "I must say, I am quite impressed by the way you kept a cool head like that around the Blue Devil."

"Losing my temper does not improve anything," I told him. So he knew about Rin's infamy as well. "It only makes things worse. And it's bad enough as it is."

"No need to fuss over," he assured. "I already know who you are so cut the introduction. Call me Fitzgerald. Scott Fitzgerald. I am the SHSL Private Detective. Now, onto business. Do you know the individual Yasuhiro Hagakure?"

Scott Fitzgerald

SHSL Private Detective

"Yes," I replied. "He is quite a famous fortune-teller. A couple of years ago one of my Japanese clients brought up his name. Apparently, thanks to Hagakure's prediction, the business won big on the stock exchange." I did a search on this so-called clairvoyant and found he was one of the most prominent members of the occult community with some referring to him as the Nostradamus of the twenty-first century. His predictions were reputed to have an up to 30% chance of success. According to the website, after taking into account the orthogonality principle, followed up by a Chi-square test, and deducting variances caused by malicious Scottish leprechauns, the accuracy figure became 80%.

Of course, I knew this was all a hoax to trick people with no knowledge of mathematics, statistics, or the fact leprechauns lived in Ireland, not Scotland.

"A fortune-teller?" Fitzgerald remarked thoughtfully. "I see. Very interesting. This is not the first time I have worked with one."

"What does he have to do in any of this?" I asked. "Is he helping your investigation?"

"On the contrary," said Fitzgerald. "It appears I have received a job from him. How and when I cannot recall, but I have this." He pulled out a folded piece of paper from his jacket and showed it to me. On it wrote:

Dark callings are heeded by the Titans

And on the path to memory, they shall embark

Blood of the guilty and the innocent paves their journey

The bonds between the scorpion and the frog steeled only to crumble into dust

Evil rises within duality

And the sack of Iscariot is laden with prizes

One way in one way out

Through despair, they will find the truth

The bottom of the letter was signed by Hagakure himself.

"Interesting, isn't it?" commented Fitzgerald. "What do you think of this?"

"I am not sure," I said. While not an expert in occultism, I did read a bit about such a highly controversial topic. From what I learned, prophecies were derived from an all-knowing being who, not wanting humanity to retard itself by accepting divine knowledge without effort, encrypted the messages in a way that the uncovering of its meaning could not be immediate but eventually as the related events unfolded. This was the reason why preventing the occurrence of a prophecy was so difficult and sometimes the act of changing the future inadvertently, in the end, could cause the predicted outcome to happen. Of course, there was no scientific proof to this, so I wasn't bothered much back then. Hagukare won big because Lady Luck favored him just as a gambler could make a fortune in one day and become bankrupt on the next. "Seriously, where did you get this?"

"I don't know," said Fitzgerald. "In fact, there are only a few things I can remember in my life. But that this note is somehow in my pocket cannot be a coincidence."

"How so?"

"The first line," Fitzgerald pressed. "Dark callings are heeded by the Titans. Tell me what you can make out of it."

I shrugged passively. "Titans might be a reference to us, the Ultimate Students. The place we are trapped in is Tartarus Keep, named after where Zeus imprisoned the rebelling Titans. However, we are not answering any calling. We are here against our will."

"Maybe," he said. "Maybe not. Do you remember how you got here?"

I racked my brain inside out and could not find it anywhere. The fact that I was here with any sort of explanation continued to baffle me. "No, I don't," I conceded.

Fitzgerald smirked. "Then we should not discount it yet. That is, unfortunately, as far as I can say about our situation. I will try to delve into this when I have the time."

"That is the way prophecies are supposed to work," I said. "Many times have the warnings given in advance and the subject still only realizes the outcome destined for them until it is too late. That is why prophecies are not to be trusted. There is are also self-fulfilling prophecies where actions to prevent damages from certain outcomes can lead to such outcomes. I can say with certainty that ninety-percent of them are scams and the genuine ones are presented in invisible messages between the lines. No one knows the future with certainty."

The private detective sigh half-heartedly. "For an accountant, you sure know much about this. Anyway, it was good meeting you. Now, if you would excuse me, I have my own businesses to tend to."

"Wait, this prophecy, shouldn't we disclose it to the others as well?" I suggested. "Someone here might know more than we do."

Fitzgerald shook his head. "What if the prophecy contains information that we all will die, or something really bad is going to happen? What if all of it is nothing but an elaborate lie? People are already distressed as it is. Let's not give them another reason to worry. Keep this between ourselves if you know what is good for all of us."

"Ignorance is bliss, is that what you are saying?" I asked. As much as I wanted to argue, I found his logic irrefutable. Perhaps it would indeed be wise to hold this back until more was known.

"That's right," said Fitzgerald. "It was an interesting conversation with you, Mason. I will see you around. But mark my words. Dark days are coming, and you had better be ready for them."

"Is that what your intuition is telling you?" I asked derisively.

The private detective chuckled, "I have collected sufficient evidence to prove that claim. But I'll tell you another time."

With that, Fitzgerald departed, leaving me to sink in his words. Though I felt guilty not telling this information to the others, I could not let Fitzgerald down. The fellow trusted me, and trust was something that should not be taken lightly. Still, I looked forward with hope that the prophecy and everything else in here was a prank, that a few moments later someone would come up and explain why we were here.

Tartarus Keep

12:00

I went ahead and entered a gallery of some sort opening up at the end of the corridor. The air here was much cooler and did not carry a sense of antique. The gallery itself was divided into two parts, each had displays presented in four columns of four, but only the one on the right was filled. There appeared to be no particular theme whatsoever, so I guessed this was a private group museum where members donated their private memorable stuff. At the foot of each item, I noticed the name of the contributor.

An elaborate piece of machinery that seemed to serve the sole purpose of shredding whatever placed inside ith its rows of razor-sharp blades, donated by someone calling themselves the Technomancer.

An ornated crown made from real gold with rubies and sapphire embedded on, though the fact it was caked in blood turned me away. This one belonged to the One True Queen.

A metal whip covered in many small razor-sharp edges. Completely impractical except for in a fantasy video game. It was also stained in blood and previously owned by the Death Driller.

Nothing, an empty glass. Except for a note that said the Armlet of Mephistopheles could only be seen through the eyes of those who had been through hell and back. The contributor was the Forbidden One.

All artifacts (except the aforementioned Armlet of Mephistopheles which was invisible) appeared to have been used in or obtained as a result of acts of violence, giving the whole gallery an eerie feeling. None of these items made any sense and none of the names of the contributors rang any bell, though I knew quite a few people who addressed themselves in such outlandish names. Dungeon Overlord, King of the Abyss, He-who-must-not-be-named, Son of Superman,... the variances were endless.

There was another person also going through the gallery. She had an athletically-toned physique with long limbs and tanned skin. Her was her face was hidden behind a wrestling mask, a gold-colored hurricane swirl decorated the forehead. The rest of her outfit included white sports bra, white wrestler tights with gold trims running down, and gold-colored wrestling boots. A massive belt with the title AAA and the geographic map of Mexico was worn proudly on her waist.

The girl noticed my presence and greeted first, "Hola!" Her voice was loud and boisterous with a thick Mexican accent, but unmistakably feminine.

"Hola," I replied. "Nice to meet you here. I am Amelda Mason, the SHSL Accountant."

"My name is Ruzia Maria Andre," she introduced herself. "But you and the others can call me El Viento!" She raised her hands and pointed to the air, doing some cool poses. "I am the shield that defends the weak, the whirlwind that wipes away all traces of evil. The luchador who fights in the name of family, honor, and traditions!

Ruzia Maria Andre (AKA El Viento)

SHSL Luchador

"Sounds awesome," I commented. "I have always been a fan of wrestling myself."

"Really?" she said excitedly. "It is a pleasure to see someone taking an interest in this type of sport. Tell me, who are your favorite wrestlers right now?"

"AJ Styles," I told her. "Have you ever heard of him? A major star in TNA, now playing for WWE. His performances are spectacular, like watching an episode of Power Rangers or something. "

"I have not familiar with him, though I am aware that WWE is the largest American wrestling federation out there. If he is as good as you said, then I would love to one day face him in the ring of glory." She gave me a good, warm, rib-breaking hug.

"Argh!" I screeched, feeling the bones and organs in my body relocated by the immense force. Though not as bad as summer camp, it was quite a painful experience. "Good Lord. Not too tight."

"Don't be coy," said El Viento. "We are classmates now, so let's get to know each other a bit. Starting with body strength."

She finally let me go. I could barely stand on my wobbling feet after that, my insides probably as messy as Lehman Brother's financial accounts. If there were an Ultimate Massager here, I would be grateful.

"Let us not do that again," I told her. "Ughh. It feels like getting an over by a steamroller."

"Ahahaha," the luchador burst into laughter. "You are quite a funny person. We can make good friends. Anyway, have you any idea why we are here or if there is a way out?"

"Not yet," I said, recalling my conversation earlier with Fitzgerald and the importance of keeping secret. "And you?"

"No luck here either," she said. "What the meaning of these displays do you think it is?" She gestured the two parts of the gallery, one full and one empty, sixteen slots in each.

"Looks to me like a private museum," I replied. "There are sixteen of us, right? I think we are supposed to fill in these slots with our own objects. The ones that are taken must have belonged to other students of Hope's Peak Academy. Our predecessors, perhaps."

"Well," said El Viento, "if that is the case, I will see what I can contribute so that my name will echo in the minds of future Hope's Peak students."

Suddenly, her mood changed and she grimaced, switching her stance to combat mode. "What is this feeling I am having? The aura of sickness and death shrouds this room. The Lady of the Shadow casts her veil on us."

"I think I could feel it too," I said. The smell medicinal chemicals was odoriferous in the air, followed by an aura of disease that anyone in Europe during the Black Death would have noticed without fail (which I barely registered).

And there it was, the source of evil: a zombie. The creature was obviously a female in its life, a tall and slim girl with skin as white as powder and black hair tied into small twin braids.

"God, it's a zombie!" I exclaimed.

"El zombi?" the luchador was terrified.

My following response was trigged by the hierarchy of belief.

What was apparent before my eye: a zombie was shambling in my direction, eager to devour my unhealthy (for the eater, not the possessor) cholesterol-rich brain.

What I had learned from a credible source, aka The Zombie Survival Guide by Max Brooks: zombies were undead creatures whose appetite for the living flesh could not be sated, even if they could not digest it properly and ended up leaving chunks of unprocessed meat in their own stomach. They had no memory of their past life and could not be reasoned with. The only thing left to do was put them to rest by ceasing their brain function.

And my intuition: A zombie! A freaking zombie! Here! Right here! But I would not despair. I knew what to do in a situation like this. Following the footsteps of Chris Redfield, Coach, and Peashooter, I was ready.

"Quickly," I urged. "That zombie must be dispatched. We need to remove its head or destroy its brain."

"Off with the head then," El Viento concurred.

The two of us rushed at the zombie and pinned it down. The creature was, as expected, very frail and offered little resistance in the face of our combined strength. I focused on holding its arms while the luchador locked her elbow around the creature's head.

"Be careful," I warned. "Do not let it bite you. One tooth and you are done for."

"Thanks for that," said El Viento. "Now, I will send you back to Santa Muerte."

Before she performed her finishing move, a shrill voice cried out, "Wait, stop! Not the head. Not the head."

We both froze on the spot. The zombie just talked. I could see two ways to explain this. One, the zombie had undergone evolution and developed intelligence of their own that somewhat resembled the living. Chances were that this new intelligence only confirmed the tastiness of brains in their own concept. Or two, maybe, just maybe, she was, somehow,…

"She's alive!" the luchador bellowed.

"Yes, but...not very long if you…keep your arms around my throat like this," the pretty-much-alive girl we previously thought dead replied. Flushing, both of us let go of her and helped her stand up. Her body was frail like a twig about to break any moment. The girl wore a white button-down shirt with red neck-tie, covered by a red Hanten. She also had grey pajama pants and white slip-on shoes.

"I am terribly sorry for this mistake," said El Viento. "My mask was impeding my vision, so I was unable to see it clearly."

Well, at least she had a good excuse. I had nothing. So I spilled the beans, "Forgive me for my rashness. I honestly thought you were a member of the living dead, so I…uhm, took measures. Sorry about that." I bowed my head apologetically.

The girl said wryly. "Oh, don't worry. I get that all the time. Because of my condition, people often mistake me as s ghost. A zombie is…first time." It was a matter of cultural difference, I thought. Zombies were the craze in North and Central America as much as ghosts were the main symbol of horror in Japan. "I am Inori Hayashi, the Ultimate Patient."

Inori Hayashi

SHSL Patient

"I am Amelda Mason and this is Ruzia Maria Andre aka El Viento," I replied. "We are the SHSL Accountant and SHSL Luchador, respectively. A great pleasure to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," Inori said as she tried to fix her neck. El Viento seemed to have a habit of dislocating body parts of other people; I should keep that in mind next time finding myself within her proximity. Nevertheless, such strength might be exactly what we need to get out of this place. As for Inori, I was glad we did not pull off her head in the end. That would be way too messy, not to mention a violation of human rights. Worse still, we were in a spooky castle and there was a good chance her decapitated spirit would continue to haunt the hallways like the ghost of Ann Boleyn.

"Ultimate Patient," said El Viento. "That is quite a strange talent indeed. I thought when you are a patient, that means something bad has happened to your health."

"Indeed," said Inori. "I have been diagnosed with an unidentified disease without a cure. It has reaped many people I knew and cared about, and it is also killing me. Yet, for long as its vines entangle me, I am immune to any other disease, so…I suppose that is a blessing."

"But still, you are stuck with this?" I asked, concerned.

The girl nodded. "Unfortunately so. The doctors performed many tests on me and injected me with many different sicknesses. It was…rather uncomfortable, but I am happy my talent could be of use to others."

"That is not ethical," said El Viento, outraged. "Doctors are supposed to treat you, not causing any more illness."

"That's fine," said Inori. "I don't bother. All the diseases they injected me with had no effect. Whatever condition I am in prevents any further illness from occurring. It's like blessing within a curse."

I had heard of such rumors before. That somewhere in Japan an experiment using human subjects was conducted in the hope of finding the cure for epidemics like HIV, Alzheimer's, or cancer. They claimed to have found the ultimate subject who could withstand all such diseases. In the end, the experiment failed to generate any result and was forced to shut down as well as in part because of the lack of funding but mainly due to pressure from human rights groups.

"Outrageous," El Viento declared. "Stuck down but unbowed. Your selflessness shall not go unrewarded. I hope they somehow manage to find you a cure one day."

"I hope so as well," I said.

"Thank you for your kindness," the patient smiled warmly. "But the truth is, it is very unlikely the case, as I have been told."

"We are not living in a world where anything can happen," I told her. "I have seen miracles in front of my very eyes. That is a fact. I am sure a cure for you is not unreachable."

"Whatever the case, I am willing to accept," said Inori resolutely. For such a frail person, she did have some strength in her words. "I will fight till the very end myself. I do not wish to become a burden to others."

I felt rather sad hearing that. The music was sad as well, filling the mood nicely.

Wait, the music? At first, I thought it was coming from within, but then I recognized the song. The Red-skinned Elephant, a song originated on the internet with no identified author and having garnered a great deal of popularity over the past few months for its message against discrimination.

The song was about a baby elephant that was rejected from the pack due to its bizarre color. Left behind, the red-skinned elephant waited for its mother to return, facing dangers from exposure and other unfriendly animals. Eventually, the grief-filled elephant mother returned, only to see her child had inexplicably disappeared from the world without a trace.

El Viento heard it as well and seemed to be on the verge of tears. Inori, on the other hand, looked as lively as ever (well, sort of for a terminally ill person who could easily be mistaken as a zombie).

As I turned around I spotted a boy in an orchestra suit playing the flute walking towards us. So focused was he on what he was doing that he barely noticed the other three people in the room. The music was beautiful, but also very sad. I had a feeling of loss and loneliness as I heard it. El Viento obviously received it much more vehemently that I did, and was visibly trembling. It was not strange to think how much music could influence the mood, considering the number of efforts given to design soundtracks for Hollywood movies, but I had never seen the effect so direct as if tangible.

"Who is that?" I asked.

"That is Kazuki Ishikawa," said Inori. "As for his talent, I am sure you can all guess what it is."

"The Ultimate Funeral Performer?" voiced El Viento. I resisted the urge to whack her with my elbow for the appalling comment. That would have been ten times more painful to me than her.

"The Ultimate Flautist?" I spurted out.

"You are correct, Mason," said Inori.

Kazuki Ishikawa

SHSL Flautist

At this point, Kazuki stopped his playing to take us all in. He bowed his head, saying, "Sorry for my lack of manner. I am as Inori has introduced. Nice to meet you all."

"This is Amelda Mason the Ultimate Accountant and El Viento the Ultimate Luchador," Inori did the introduction for us.

"Pleasure to meet you," I said.

"An honor to be your acquaintance," said El Viento.

"I hope my music did not cause you too much trouble," said Kazuki. "Whenever I feel something strongly, I have the desire to express. But actions and words cannot fully convey it, so I use my music as a means of letting it out."

I did not know what to say about it. On one hand, the sadness of the way he played his flute gave me a heartthrob, as if there were an invisible hand clutching on it. The beautiful melody reminded me of our situation: confused in a strange place and separate from anyone we knew. On the other, hearing it strengthened my resolve and steeled my nerve. As long as there were friends around here, friends who I could shoulder some of my weight on, I would not be confused or lost.

"That's all right," said Inori. She seemed quite comfortable with the sorrowful tone. Perhaps that was one of the perks of being the Ultimate Patient: with your life already as good as forsaken, you began to see everything in a positive manner no matter what. "You play very well. I love it. Perhaps you should perform in front of us. I am sure everyone would love to hear from your flute.

"Still, you are all trapped here," said Kazuki. "Perhaps it was imprudent for me to play a song that reminds us of that fact."

"No," I denied. "I don't mind at all. In fact, I am more spirited now thanks to your music."

"Only cowards would run away from the truth," El Viento announced loudly. As she was an entertainer, I could see how her moods could alter dramatically so quickly. "No matter the difficulty, no matter the danger. We shall face it with strength and dignity. And without a doubt, we shall overcome it."

"So you don't mind at all?"

"No," the three of us replied.

And so Kazuki continued playing. A more cheerful and uplifting tune this time. As hi music filled the gallery, I was imbued with a new hope as all the woe regarding my family and that dubious prophecy dissipated. I had definitely met some strange people around here, but everyone was a good person, and by working together, no matter how bad things might get, we would overcome our insecurity. We would all get out of here safely.

At least I hoped so.

Author's note: Alright, here is the next chapter in this. All 7 characters accepted on the submission have been revealed. The remaining 8 characters will be determined from those I have received until the end of next week, which is the 21st of May. If you want to have a character in this story, be sure to submit before then.

I hope you like how things are going so far. As I said, there will be some thoughtful moments in between the most frantic and cheesy plot.

Thank you for reading and submitting. I will see you soon.