[MASS RELEASE 2/5] CHAPTER 2 — PART 11: WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?

"What the hell is this?" I asked, my right eyebrow twitching so violently I thought it might detach from my skull.

The full-length mirror in the corner of the room offered no apologies. It just reflected the grim, absurd reality back at me.

Reina had prepared costumes for all of us. Apparently, since we were entering a martial arts tournament, we had to "look the part." We needed personas. We needed a spectacle to feed the crowds at Wrestle Locuras.

And mine was... outrageous.

I was wearing a heavy, suffocating black leather coat that swept down to my calves. Custom, pitch-black boots that felt heavy enough to shatter concrete. Beneath the coat was a pristine, pressed white button-up shirt and tailored black pants that hugged my frame just a little too tightly. But the worst part was the face staring back at me. Reina had forced me into a chair and applied pale, jagged, edgy makeup around my eyes, making me look like a sleep-deprived phantom who hadn't seen the sun in a decade.

"I'm going to kill you, Reina." The words came out flat, hollow, devoid of any real killing intent.

"I'm sure you will~!" Reina purred from the plush couch, kicking her legs in the air. "You certainly look like you have the capacity for it now!"

To my left, Katsumi and Shizue were currently in the process of suffocating. Actually, genuinely dying of oxygen deprivation. They were rolling on the hardwood floor, clutching their stomachs, tears streaming down their faces as they laughed like they had just witnessed the funniest, most pathetic spectacle on planet Earth.

But Orime was the one currently raising my blood pressure to stroke-inducing levels.

"I took so many pictures!" Orime announced proudly, her pink hair bouncing as she tapped furiously on her sleek phone. "And I just posted the best ones on my Limestagram."

"Why!?" I spun around, my heavy coat flaring out dramatically—which only made Katsumi laugh harder. "Delete them! Delete them right now, Orime!!"

I looked like a complete lunatic. I looked like the kind of person who would walk into a crowded bank and get tackled by security before even opening my mouth. I get it. I'm naturally withdrawn. I'm sarcastic. I'm edgy. But this? This was a caricature. The EdgeLord. The Blue Prince. It was an insult to my actual misery.

I looked over at Reina.

She sat there with that impossibly proud, seductive grin plastered across her face. But beneath the humor, I could feel the dense, suffocating weight of her Shadow Magic humming in the air. She wasn't just playing dress-up. She was building a theatrical armor for me.

I sighed deeply, the sound rattling in my chest.

I suppose that's just how they all saw me now. The brooding anomaly. The boy who brought violence wherever he walked.

My phone suddenly erupted. A rapid-fire staccato of notification chimes pierced the room, sounding like an assault rifle going off in my pocket. Ever since the day the entire school practically declared war on my existence, someone had taken the liberty of creating a squad group chat. The entire six-member exception team was in it.

And apparently, Katsumi had managed to take a blurry, incredibly unflattering picture of me mid-scowl and dropped it right into the server.

I pulled my phone out. My hands were actually shaking.

[CrimsonWolf]: Yeah... Yami-kun is definitely going to be mistaken for a wanted criminal...

[AbsoluteBlu]: Why is he wearing that absurd, tactical outfit? What exactly are you all doing without the rest of us?

[Chocolateconnoisseur<3]: I'm saving this image in maximum resolution... for purely academic reasons.

[StrongestHeroEver]: So, what's the verdict on his villain era, ladies?

[CrimsonWolf]: Ridiculous!

[AbsoluteBlu]: Childish and highly inefficient...

[Chocolateconnoisseur<3]: Dreamy...

[HammerGoBonk67]: Meh.

I stared at the screen. For some inexplicable reason, Hisoka's flat, unbothered "Meh" felt like a physical knife twisting between my ribs. It was worse than the outright mockery.

Whatever. I shoved the phone back into my pocket, the heavy leather of the coat squeaking against my wrist.

Reina had gone out of her way to procure this outfit. She had spent her own money, her own time. She was my trainer, the only reason my pathetic, atrophied NEET body was currently capable of surviving a five-minute sparring match without collapsing. The least I could do was not act like an ungrateful brat.

With a long, incredibly annoyed sigh, I forced myself to meet her gaze. I offered an ugly, strained glare that was supposed to be a smile.

"Hey... thanks."

Then I immediately looked away, staring a hole into the floorboards. My neck felt unusually warm.

"Oho~? Is that a genuine blush I see?" Reina was instantly on her feet, closing the distance between us with terrifying speed. She leaned intimately close to my face, her signature sensual smirk firmly in place. The faint scent of her perfume mixed with the metallic tang of ozone in the room.

From the corner of my eye, the laughter abruptly died.

I noticed Katsumi and Shizue standing up. The humor had vanished from their expressions, instantly replaced by pure, unadulterated murder. Their combined glares felt like physical pressure against my chest, a sudden spike in hostile mana that filled my lungs with absolute dread.

"Stop looking at me like that..." I muttered, taking a cautious half-step back from Reina. "And please, for the love of God, tell me you got everyone else an embarrassing outfit too."

The murderous aura in the room vanished, instantly replaced by sharp, hyper-focused interest.

"Did ya?" Orime asked, her bright eyes practically vibrating with excitement.

Even Katsumi leaned forward, crossing her arms defensively but failing to hide the anticipation in her posture.

"Nah." Reina shrugged smugly, completely unbothered by the tension.

"Of course..." Orime deflated like a punctured tire, her shoulders slumping. "She only cares about dressing up Yami..."

"Tch... that actually stings. I won't lie," Katsumi muttered, a thick, throbbing vein popping out on her forehead.

Shizue just stood there, completely frozen, a massive, metaphorical sweat drop hanging over her head as she processed the blatant favoritism.

"You all fell for it!" Reina suddenly burst into a loud, melodic laugh. "Of course I made outfits for everyone! Did you really think I'd let my girls walk into my arena looking like amateurs?"

"Yay..." Orime replied, her voice completely devoid of its previous energy.

"Cool..." Katsumi added dryly.

Reina had completely, thoroughly assassinated the mood with that joke. And honestly, looking at the deadpan expressions on their faces, I couldn't blame them in the slightest.

"It better be exactly as ridiculous as mine!" I yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at the bags in Reina's hands.

A flurry of chaotic movement followed. The girls were aggressively corralled and pushed into the far, obscured corner of the massive living room, hidden behind a tall, ornate folding screen to change.

I stayed on the exact opposite side of the room. I stood flush against the wall, nervously facing the wallpaper, counting the floral patterns just to keep my mind occupied.

Behind me, the chaotic symphony began.

The heavy rustling of fabric.

Zippers being violently pulled.

Clothes hitting the hardwood floor with soft thuds.

Hushed, frantic whispers.

A sudden, sharp argument between Shizue and Orime about who stepped on whose foot.

More fabric hitting the floor.

I closed my eyes, pressing my forehead against the cool plaster of the wall.

That was the exact moment the surreal absurdity of my life finally crashed down on me. How the hell did a rotting, miserable hikikomori who hadn't seen the sun in three years end up standing in a room full of incredibly powerful girls changing their clothes?

But the humor faded quickly, replaced by a cold, sobering reality.

Why the hell did I think participating in an underground wrestling tournament would help me get stronger? What was I supposed to do with erratic, volatile Light Magic and a handful of amateur grappling moves against seasoned killers?

I looked down at my hands. Even beneath the harsh makeup and the heavy leather, they were trembling. Not from nerves. From the lingering, phantom exhaustion of my magic.

I needed to get physically stronger. My magic tore my stamina to shreds. If I didn't build a body capable of handling the explosive output of Amai's inherited techniques, my own magic was going to rip me apart from the inside out. And worse, hovering constantly in the back of my mind was the dark, pulsating mass of Malice.

I wasn't here to play dress-up. I was here to forge a vessel capable of surviving the Grand Battle Maiden Royale. I was here so I wouldn't have to watch anyone else die the way my father did.

"Y-You better not turn around, you hear me!?" Katsumi's panicked shout shattered my dark train of thought. "I swear I'll beat you to a bloody pulp, Yami!!"

"I won't! I'm staring at a wall! Relax, Katsumi!" I yelled back over my shoulder.

"You better! Or I'll get pregnant!!"

"H-Huh!?" I violently choked on my own saliva, coughing so hard my ribs ached. "What the absolute hell does that even mean!? That's not how biology works!"

Her sheer, panicked gamer-logic made me want to curl up into a ball and weep for the future of our generation.

"So, that's how it works~?" Reina's voice sliced through the chaos, smooth as velvet and sharp as glass. "In that case, Yami, feel free to look at me whenever you want~!"

My entire body flinched. A violent shiver ran down my spine, and my face instantly flushed with blistering heat.

"Sh-Shut up, Reina..." That was all my paralyzed brain could manage to produce in response to something that blatantly outrageous.

I tapped my heavy boot against the floorboards. "Why the hell is this taking so long?" I muttered to the wall.

"Uh... because there are layers and layers of complex clothing," Orime called out from the corner, her voice muffled by fabric. "Reina actually tried really hard with the stitching on these."

I leaned the back of my head against the wall and squeezed my eyes shut.

"Oh, the poor boy~," Reina teased, her footsteps padding softly against the floor as she stepped out from behind the partition. "Trying so incredibly hard not to be tempted by his primal instincts. Honestly, it's quite impressive. A repressed virgin like you would normally just snap and go for it."

"Oi! I have actual morals, damn it!" I yelled, my voice cracking slightly. "I'm not that type of degenerate!!"

I needed them to know they were safe around me. I needed them to trust me. The Order already saw me as a monster, a ticking time bomb of Malice. If my own squad couldn't trust me in a dressing room, how could they ever trust me in a life-or-death battle?

"How noble of you~. I truly admire that restraint."

"You sound incredibly amused."

"I am amused. But also genuinely impressed."

"Tch... just hurry the hell up already."

After what felt like three consecutive lifetimes of cardiovascular stress, they finally announced they were ready.

Yeah. Let's call them outfits.

I turned around slowly, bracing myself.

The first one to step into the light was Reina.

And my brain instantly short-circuited. What the absolute hell was this underground BDSM nightmare!?

She was wearing a sleek, pitch-black leather leotard that clung to her curves with terrifying precision. It was tight as hell, leaving nothing to the imagination, with an actual, physical manifestation of her shadowy whip coiled and hanging dangerously from her hips. It was the Seductress.

I instinctively gulped, the sound loud in the quiet room.

"What do you think~?" Reina asked, doing a slow, deliberate twirl that showcased exactly how dangerous she really was.

"It... suits you to a T..." I managed to force the words past the sudden lump in my throat.

I couldn't look away. I was completely, utterly captivated. But it wasn't just lust. It was fear. Underneath the seductive exterior, I could sense the raw, coiled power of her Shadow Magic. She looked like an assassin masquerading as a performer. She looked like someone who could snap my neck before I even registered the movement.

Then, I forced my gaze away and looked at Katsumi.

And I flinched so hard my eyes practically bulged out of their sockets.

She was wearing a custom, heavily armored sports bra splashed with blindingly flashy colors, a massive, stylized "K" emblazoned across the middle. Her toned midriff was fully, unapologetically exposed to the cold air. A bright, heroic yellow cape hung proudly from her broad shoulders, contrasting sharply with her short blue combat trunks that looked almost like panties and heavy red kickboxing boots.

It was Starflare. She looked like a classic, justice-obsessed tomboy superhero ripped straight from the pages of a manga.

And because of the shockingly minimal coverage of that outfit... I could fully, undeniably see exactly how well-endowed my rival actually was.

Damn it.

My eyes flat-out refused to obey my brain's commands. They locked on target. Katsumi was stunning. Not just physically beautiful, but she radiated this intense, overwhelming aura of sheer heroic willpower. She carried the crushing financial debts of her father's sacrifice on her back, yet here she stood, wearing a cape and ready to fight the world.

Katsumi couldn't even speak. She was visibly shaking like a wet dog in a blizzard, her face flushed so completely red that the color extended all the way down to her collarbones.

"You have a truly spectacular body, Katsumi~," Reina said casually, adjusting her shadow whip. "Don't be shy now. Yami is clearly captivated by the view~."

Katsumi slowly, painfully shifted her gaze to meet mine.

Her face somehow managed to get even redder, the temperature in the room seemingly spiking.

He's looking... I could practically read the panicked thoughts scrolling behind her eyes. He's actually, really looking...

In the background, Shizue was groaning in absolute agony. I could see her clutching her fiery red hair; if only she hadn't let her tsundere pride get in the way earlier, she could have had an outfit too. She desperately wanted to be perceived, to be seen standing beside me on equal footing.

"Hehehe~ Step aside, let me take the center spotlight!"

Orime violently inserted herself directly between Katsumi and me, immediately striking a series of hyper-energetic, aggressive cute poses to show off her new aesthetic.

I blinked. Was this... a copyrighted superhero? A Kamen Ranger? No, wait...

Ranger Rider Pink Sparkle.

She wore a blindingly bright pink battle suit, but it was incredibly obvious that the armor was forged for her bubbly personality rather than actual military practicality. The reinforced material hugged her muscular Brute-type frame like a sleek athletic uniform. Crisp white lines ran down her sides, converging across her chest to form a massive, stylized heart crest. A short, pleated pink skirt sat over fitted compression shorts, ensuring the outfit looked aggressively cute while still allowing her the mobility to shatter someone's spine with her Rolling Death Embrace.

She wore pristine white gloves that extended past her wrists, heavy pink combat boots capped with silver steel-toes, and a tiny, fluttering cape that bounced with every movement. On her chest gleamed a polished emblem shaped like a sparkling star flanked by tiny angelic wings.

She looked heroic. Almost too heroic. Like she was fully prepared to strike a dramatic pose in front of a massive explosion while screaming the name of her ultimate attack at the top of her lungs.

Orime spun around like a top, her tiny cape whipping through the air.

"Tadaa! What do you think, Yami-kun!?" she asked, freezing in a pose with both hands thrown high into the air.

I stared at her.

I narrowed my eyes and stared even harder, trying to process the sheer visual whiplash.

"...You look exactly like a magical superhero mascot."

Her bright, beaming smile instantly froze, shattering like glass.

"A mascot!?"

"I mean it in a purely positive way!" I backpedaled immediately, my hands waving in defense. "You look cute. Like, violently, aggressively cute."

Her face lit up like a flare in the dark.

"Really!? You genuinely think I look cute!?"

"Y—Yeah. Just don't make it weird, Orime."

"Far too late for that!" Reina called out from behind us, laughing. "She's already making it incredibly weird~."

Orime's face flooded with a shade of pink that perfectly matched her costume. She slapped both hands over her burning cheeks and began swaying nervously from side to side, her massive Brute strength completely betrayed by her maiden-like panic.

"He thinks I'm cute..." she whispered frantically to herself, completely failing to be quiet.

Then, her eyes snapped back to mine, widening with a sudden realization.

"Wait! If I'm the bright, shining pink hero of justice... then you absolutely have to be my dark, edgy rival!"

"I already look like a clinically depressed, edgy rival," I deadpanned, tugging at the lapels of my heavy leather coat.

Orime gasped, her eyes sparkling. "You're totally right! We match the aesthetic perfectly!"

I shifted my gaze over to Reina.

She offered me a slow, knowing, incredibly smug grin. Of course she had meticulously planned this entire dynamic. She was a master manipulator. Reina and I were the dark, villainous-looking anomalies of the group. We were the shadows.

While Katsumi and Orime stood in the light, looking like the undisputed heroes of the story.

"Everyone! Collapse the perimeter! Get in close! I'm taking a group selfie for the feed!" Orime suddenly commanded, her Brute strength leaving no room for argument.

"Wait, what—"

I couldn't even finish my sentence before Orime physically dragged all of us together, squishing my leather-clad arm against Katsumi's bare, burning shoulder.

"Say cheese, everyone!" Orime yelled gleefully, thrusting her phone high into the air.

"C—cheese..." I muttered, feeling incredibly awkward, acutely aware of the warmth radiating from Katsumi and the predatory shadow looming from Reina.

Katsumi squeaked it out bashfully, hiding half her face behind her yellow cape.

Reina whispered it sensually, leaning her chin intimately close to my shoulder.

And snap!

The flash blinded me for a split second, permanently freezing that chaotic, absurd, beautiful moment in time.