Respawn Queen

The next checkpoint led them to a ghostly room where mist swirled thickly across the floor, curling around their ankles. The silence was broken by the soft clink of Miyuu’s armour as she stepped cautiously forward, her eyes narrowing at the centre of the room.

There it was: a massive lever. Chibi Miyuu’s eyes lit up the moment she spotted it, sparkling with glee. Before Miyuu could stop her, the little menace bolted forward, arms outstretched like she was running toward the gates of a theme park.

“Wait!” Miyuu lunged, her fingers grasping at empty air. “Don’t—!”

Too late. Chibi Miyuu’s tiny hands gripped the lever and yanked it down.

The lever clicked ominously into place. Miyuu froze, the hairs on the back of her neck standing at full attention. The air seemed to thicken, heavy with the weight of something watching. Slowly, she turned, her stomach plummeting as her eyes met the skeletal frame now standing behind her.

It was draped in a tattered black cloak that billowed dramatically. Its hollow eye sockets stared into her soul—empty and dark. In one skeletal hand, it clutched a wickedly sharp scythe, it looked like it could split atoms.

Miyuu managed a nervous smile, which was probably not the right reaction. The skeleton did not seem amused. With one smooth, merciless swing, the scythe arced toward her.

“Oh, for fu—” was all she got out before everything went black.

"Losing your head a little, are we?” Frowl’s voice chirped with entirely too much cheer as the scene reset.

Back at the checkpoint, Miyuu didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Chibi Miyuu by the front of her coat and yanked her up, holding the pint-sized terror at eye level. “What is wrong with you!?” she exploded. “Did you think the giant, ominous lever in the middle of a haunted room was some kind of candy dispenser? Next time, try not triggering the obvious death trap, yeah? Or do you want me to kill you myself?”

Chibi Miyuu’s face turned beet red, her cheeks puffing out like an indignant pufferfish. “N-No, no! Don’t do it!” Miyuu squeaked, holding her breath like that would somehow save her.

But, of course, it was too late.

Chibi Miyuu unleashed a piercing, ear-splitting wail. The virtual ground trembled beneath them, the sky darkened, and Miyuu barely had time to register the growing shadow above her.

“Aw, come on,” she muttered, glancing up just as it happened.

WHAM!

An absurdly large, cartoonish anvil came hurtling down, flattening her in one blow. Pixels and pigtails scattered in every direction.

Her ghostly form floated upward, complete with a harp and a sparkly halo, doing a dainty twirl as it ascended. Below, Chibi Miyuu sniffled, her foot stomping petulantly on the ground.

Still hovering mid-air, Miyuu’s ghost yelled, “Alright, alright! I’ll try harder, okay?!”

“Oh my,” Frowl chimed as the scene reloaded. “That was quite the display of emotional control, Miyuu. I must say, it’s almost like you enjoy dying.”

Respawning, Miyuu inhaled deeply and muttered with a smug grin, “Totally worth it.” The satisfaction lingered for precisely three seconds before the reality of their situation pressed in again. She rolled her shoulders, forcing herself to refocus.

"Alright, Chibi-Me," she began, her voice dropping into an overly sweet tone. "What do you think might happen if you just pull random levers all willy-nilly?"

Chibi Miyuu froze mid-step, her little head tilting dramatically as she cast a pouty glance at the offending lever. “Um… bad things happen to you, and you come back?” she ventured, her wide, innocent eyes blinking up at Miyuu with the audacity of a practiced liar.

Oh, she was smirking. This little gremlin knew exactly what she was doing.

“Yes,” Miyuu replied through gritted teeth, her tone still syrupy sweet, though the cracks were starting to show. “I die, horribly, and come back. Again and again. But if you ever want to get out of here and go home, we’re going to have to work together. Sound good?”

Chibi Miyuu considered this, scratching her head like she was pretending to think really hard. Finally, she nodded. “Maybe… we don’t pull it right away?”

Miyuu blinked, momentarily stunned. “See?” she said, forcing a tight smile. “You can learn.”

Together, they started combing through the misty room, Miyuu subtly nudging Chibi Miyuu’s attention toward the wall. Her eyes landed on a series of small, rusted gears embedded in the stone, each engraved with symbols matching those on the lever. She crouched down, pointing them out. “Look at these. Maybe there’s a pattern.”

Chibi Miyuu squinted at the gears, as she traced the engravings with her tiny fingers. “Hmm... maybe they go in order?”

“Could be,” Miyuu said with a casual shrug, though she was dying to just shout the answer and be done with it. But no—this was a reflective mission. Which apparently meant letting the toddler-brain figure things out while she stood there with her soul slowly leaking out through her ears.

After a few gentle nudges and the occasional well-timed “Hmm,” Chibi Miyuu finally pieced it together. Her tiny hands trembled as she approached the levers again, carefully pulling them in the sequence the gears suggested. One by one, the gears began to turn with a satisfying clunk, their rhythmic clicks filling the room.

Miyuu held her breath as the final lever was pulled. The gears groaned into motion, and with a low, rumbling creak, the door on the far side of the room slid open, revealing the path forward.

Chibi Miyuu turned back to her, her cat tail swishing with pride and her grin wide enough to make Miyuu almost—almost—smile.

“Nice job,” Miyuu said, ruffling the kid’s hair in an uncharacteristically affectionate gesture. “See? You didn’t even have to kill me this time.”

Chibi Miyuu giggled. Miyuu sighed, standing and dusting herself off. “Let’s keep moving,” she muttered, heading for the door before the kid could find another way to nearly get them both obliterated.

They trudged onward through the labyrinth, solving puzzles one excruciating step at a time. Each success felt like yanking out a stubborn tooth—painful, but deeply satisfying in a twisted way. Together, they pushed glowing buttons, dodged precarious trapdoors, and even endured an impromptu dance battle with a crew of breakdancing zombies.

It was a cruel circus, but Miyuu couldn't deny the flicker of pride she felt watching her pint-sized counterpart’s confidence grow with each victory. Sure, Chibi Miyuu was a brat, but she was her brat. And maybe, she was kind of rooting for the little gremlin.

The labyrinth, however, was relentless. It stretched on forever—a hellscape of mind-bending obstacles that seemed designed by someone with a grudge against joy. There was a maze with rotating floors that made Miyuu question the laws of physics, followed by a sliding puzzle with boulders hurtling in from every direction.

Miyuu lost her cool so many times she lost count. Every outburst ended in her meeting yet another grisly demise: crushed by a massive foot; swallowed by an abyss after tripping on a strategically placed banana peel; and that one particularly humiliating encounter with a rogue octopus. She didn’t even want to think about that one.

At long last, they stumbled into a grand chamber, its high, arched walls glowing with a dusky amber light. Above the final archway, neon letters blazed: “FINAL ROUND.” The sign pulsed like an over-caffeinated heartbeat.

Directly ahead stood the prize—a shimmering, golden portal with a sign that cheerfully read: “Home: This Way!”

Miyuu’s lips curled into a feral grin. Finally. She could almost hear the despairing groans of the student council when she strutted out of this VR nightmare, flipping them the double bird. The victory would be so sweet.

She glanced at Chibi Miyuu, who gazed up at her with those wide, hopeful eyes, her ridiculous cat tail swishing in excitement. They had clawed, screamed, and death-looped their way through every trap, puzzle, and challenge this labyrinth had hurled at them. Now, they stood on the brink of victory.

“This is it,” Miyuu muttered, snickering. “The council can eat my ass—I’m about to win.”

But just as they approached the final puzzle, the chamber erupted in chaos. An ear-splitting alarm blared through the air, shrill and obnoxious, like the unholy spawn of a fire drill and an airhorn.

Miyuu froze, her heart sinking as the ground beneath her feet began to dissolve into inky nothingness. The portal, the walls, even Chibi Miyuu—all swallowed by the encroaching void.

“What the—?!” Miyuu’s voice rose, tinged with panic as she stumbled, now floating helplessly in the pitch-black abyss.

And then it came. That voice. Slithering out of the darkness.

“Oh, my dear, sweet Miyuu,” Frowl cooed, his grating cheer slicing through her nerves. “It seems your time has… expired.” His laughter fluttered around her.

Miyuu snarled, rolling her eyes so hard they practically threatened to roll out of her skull. White-hot irritation bubbled inside her—the kind she reserved for the student council, people who sent “k.” texts, and, apparently, condescending AI birds.

“You’re kidding!” she snapped, throwing her hands up. “We were right there!”

Frowl hovered far too close. “Almost there, Miyuu. But almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, doesn’t it?” His beak clicked mockingly. “Three hours—and tell me, what did you learn? Perhaps you’re not quite as clever as you thought?”

Miyuu’s hand shot out in a futile attempt to swat him away. “I swear, Frowl, if one more featherbrained syllable leaks out of that beak, I’m going to deep-fry you and serve you with fries.”

“Oh, Miyuu, you wound me! I sense the lesson hasn't quite sunk in.” Frowl cooed.

Miyuu’s fists clenched at her sides, her glare could’ve fried circuit boards. “Save it for someone who cares, you psychotic feather-duster.”

Frowl gasped, his expression morphing into exaggerated horror. “Such venom! Clearly, we’ll just have to try again soon, won’t we? Practice makes perfect after all!” His voice took on a syrupy purr that made her want to find the nearest virtual frying pan and test if his smugness was flammable.

Before she could unleash another tirade, Frowl abruptly exploded into cheers, his wings flapping with manic enthusiasm as streams of holographic confetti rained down around them. Party horns blared at full volume, and Miyuu flinched at the sudden chaos.

“Congratulations!” Frowl crowed. “You’ve set a new record for the most failures in a single session!”

Miyuu’s jaw dropped as she struggled to catch her breath. Her glare deepened. “Seriously? What is wrong with you?”

“Why, Miyuu, I’m simply celebrating your accomplishments!” he said, tilting his head like he was perched on a pile of her shattered dignity. “It’s not every day someone’s so exceptional at losing.”

Her eyes narrowed into slits. “I swear, if you—”

“Oh, wait!” Frowl interrupted. “Shall I send you the highlight reel? Look, this part’s my favourite!”

A holographic clip flickered to life in front of her, and Miyuu’s heart sank as she recognized the scene. There she was, creeping toward a treasure chest like some kind of amateur burglar. The moment her fingers grazed the latch, the chest sprang to life—jagged teeth snapping open, revealing a grotesque, writhing purple tongue.

The mimic lunged, clamping down on her with an audible chomp! and yanking her across the ground. Miyuu flailed wildly, her butt sticking out at an undignified angle as she shrieked every profanity in her vocabulary. Her legs kicked uselessly, flopping like a fish gasping for air, before the mimic swallowed her whole with a final, slimy gulp. The screen faded to black, save for a few lonely pixels floating in the aftermath.

Miyuu’s hands flew to her face, cringing so hard she thought she might implode. “Delete. That. Now!” she hissed through gritted teeth.

Frowl chuckled, his voice a maddening blend of mockery and joy. “Oh, Miyuu, it’s far too priceless to delete! Think of the inspiration it’ll bring to future students! I think I’ll keep it safe… for posterity.” His laughter bounced in her ears as the room began to shrink and fade around her.

Miyuu groaned into her hands, muttering darkly. “When I get out of here, I’m building a feather plucker. Specifically for you.”

Miyuu blinked, the real world snapping back into focus as she gasped for air. The VR chamber’s metallic walls loomed around her, a reminder that, no, she hadn’t actually escaped to somewhere better—just back to reality. She yanked the neural-link headset off with a growl, her fingers trembling.

Welcome back, Princess, K.A.T.O.’s voice crackled to life. He sounded equal parts amused and relieved.

A surge of relief flooded her. For once, she was genuinely glad to hear his voice. It was like having her brain click back into place after hours of forced solitude.

“Don’t even start,” she muttered, her voice hoarse. “I’ve had a day.”

K.A.T.O. chuckled softly, the sound crackling through her neural link. I can tell. Your vitals look like you just wrestled a cyber-dragon.

Before she could retort, her student device let out an obnoxious ping. She glanced down, scowling, only for her irritation to peak as her eyes locked on the notification.

The subject line read: "Reflective Mission Highlight Reel!"

Miyuu’s scowl deepened as she opened the message. Sure enough, that green menace had really sent her the entire humiliating reel, complete with Frowl’s commentary and a soundtrack of cheerful kazoo music.

“Oh, for the love of—” Miyuu choked, her free hand balling into a fist as the first clip began to play. There she was, getting dragged by the mimic, butt-first, kicking and flailing while a jaunty tune played in the background.

K.A.T.O. was unhelpfully quiet for a beat before chiming in, Well, at least your form is consistent.

Miyuu groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “If I ever see that bird again, I’m going to turn him into a rotisserie special.”