ITB Chapter 6 More Explanation

The buzzing lights hummed overhead, flickering in their lazy, unnatural rhythm. Guts strode forward with heavy, deliberate steps, Dragonslayer balanced across his back, his lone eye scanning every corner of the endless yellow halls. Nezuko trailed just a pace behind him, her small sandals stepping against the damp carpet.

They had been walking for what felt like hours. The sameness of the Backrooms would have driven most people to madness—the peeling wallpaper, the mildew stench, the faint dripping that came from nowhere and everywhere—but the girl didn’t so much as flinch.

Guts glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Her face was the same blank, calm, pale pink eyes fixed straight ahead. No complaints, no sighs, not even fidgeting. Just… stillness.

He grunted under his breath. ‘Little girls shouldn’t be this tough. Is it resilience? Or is there somethin’ unnatural about her too?’

He didn’t dwell. There was no time for that. Not here.

—------------------------------

The next room was wider, the ceiling slightly higher, the buzzing lights casting long, sharp shadows across the stained carpet. They quickly noted that they weren’t alone.

At the center of the chamber stood a figure.

Tall. Towering. Its body was broad, bulky, swathed in black trousers, a long overcoat covering its body, boots and gloves completing the image of a soldier—or a corpse dressed as one. 

Its face made Guts’ lip curl.

Distorted. Rotting. Patches of skin sagged away with various stitches across holding its body together, it was lacking a nose and lips so it showed its crooked teeth exposed in a permanent half-snarl. One eye was stitched shut but he doubted it would matter as his lone eye was empty, and its breath came out in a faint mechanical rasp.

Strapped to its left arm, fused to the rotting flesh by bolts and plates of metal, was a rocket launcher. The thing gleamed under the buzzing light, oiled and clean despite the decay of the body it was attached to.

The monster didn’t move. It just stood, head twitching slightly as though waiting.

Nezuko tilted her head faintly, her expression unchanged.

Guts’ instincts flared. He didn’t need to guess. Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t a friend.

He pulled Dragonslayer free with a metallic scrape, the sheer weight of the weapon shaking the floor as he leveled it toward the creature. His eye narrowed, muscles coiled.

“Ugly bastard,” He muttered, voice low, dripping with contempt.

He stepped forward, deliberately putting himself between the girl and the enemy. His gauntlet hand flexed on the hilt.

“Stay back,” He growled over his shoulder.

Nezuko blinked slowly, her head lowering in a faint nod. She didn’t resist or argue. She simply shifted a step closer to the wall, her bamboo muzzle bobbing faintly with the motion.

The hulking man twitched.

Then the rocket launcher whined with a metallic click-chunk, locking into place.

Guts’ grip tightened on Dragonslayer, his teeth baring in a wolfish grin. “Figures. Let’s dance, freak.”

The mutant zombie’s head twitched unnaturally, the rotting mouth pulling into something that might have been a grin. Then the whine of hydraulics echoed through the hall.

FWOOOSH—BOOM!

A missile screamed from the launcher mounted on its arm, streaking down the yellow corridor straight toward Guts.

Guts didn’t flinch. He swung.

Dragonslayer came down like a guillotine, cleaving the rocket mid-flight. The warhead split in two, fire and shrapnel ripping harmlessly past him, tearing into the damp carpet and peeling wallpaper in bursts of smoke and sparks.

Another missile came. Then another. The monster fired in rapid succession, its mechanical arm jerking as the launcher coughed death.

Guts moved like a storm. His sword carved through each rocket, the blasts painting the walls in scorched black while his body plowed forward through the smoke. His single eye burned, teeth clenched.

“Gonna take more than fireworks to stop me.”

Then they both charged as the two towering figures met with an earth-shaking crash.

Dragonslayer roared downward, a slab of iron striking flesh and bone. The blade cut deep, splitting the monster’s torso in a brutal diagonal slash, tearing its chest wide open and nearly severing its arm.

Rotting ichor sprayed the walls. The zombie staggered, body hanging on by threads.

Guts spun, already bringing the blade back around to finish the kill. “Stay down, freak—”

But the monster twitched, its body convulsing unnaturally. Muscles writhed. Flesh knitted. With a wet, tearing sound, its chest and arm reattached, the gash closing into an ugly seam.

Guts’ eye narrowed. His stomach churned. “…Tch.” He spat blood from his lip. ‘Regeneration. Of course.’

This fight wasn’t ending with one clean blow.

The creature raised its arm and bellowed, a distorted growl vibrating the walls. Instead of firing another rocket, it swung the launcher itself, using it like a club.

CRASH!

Dragonslayer met steel. The impact thundered through the hallway, a spray of sparks lighting the damp, yellow gloom.

Guts grunted, his boots skidding across the soggy carpet, his arms burning with the recoil. “Heh. You’re stronger than you look.”

The monster pressed forward, its rotting face inches from his eye vacant but full of hate. It shoved with raw strength, forcing Dragonslayer back. Then it swung the launcher like a hammer, smashing down.

Guts rolled aside, the weapon denting the floor where he’d been standing, the carpet erupting with dust and debris. He came up swinging, the slab of iron cutting across the monster’s midsection—but this time, the monster blocked with the rocket launcher itself, the steel groaning under the strike.

Guts met blow for blow, Dragonslayer ringing with each clash. Sparks danced across the yellow walls, every strike leaving cracks in the carpeted floor. The room echoed with their duel—misshapen monster and cursed man trading raw violence.

Again and again, the two clashed—iron against steel, monster against man. 

From the back, Nezuko stood pressed against the wall, her wide pink eyes locked on the battle. She was in deep thought as she asked if she should help.

Her small hands clenched at her sides. ‘If he can’t finish it alone… then I’ll—’

Guts snarled, driving his weight into another swing. Sparks rained as Dragonslayer carved across the launcher, biting deep into the metal, nearly shearing it in half. The monster staggered but didn’t fall.

“You’re tough,” He growled, sweat dripping down his brow. His muscles screamed, his body shaking with the effort.

Then his grin widened into something savage. “But I’ve killed worse.”

The clash of iron against iron rang through the chamber, Guts straining against the brute strength of the mutant. Sparks hissed, filling the room with the stink of burning metal and smoke. The monster pressed hard, using the rocket launcher as both shield and hammer, its grotesque face twisting into a parody of rage.

Guts’ jaw clenched. His muscles screamed from the effort. ‘Damn thing won’t break. Gotta end this quick—’

Then, a new sound cut through the struggle as a sharp thud of bare feet against carpet.

Before Guts could glance over, a shadow blurred past him. Nezuko leapt, her body light but her strength monstrous. She came down hard, sandal striking the mutant’s skull with such force that its head smashed sideways into the wall. Plaster cracked, wallpaper split.

The thing staggered, crashing to the floor in a heap.

For a moment, Guts just stared. His single eye widened, not with fear but with a grim sort of admiration. The kid wasn’t a kid anymore. She’d grown taller, her limbs lengthened, muscles flexing under the sleeve of her haori. The quiet little girl had revealed herself for what she was.

‘She’s no normal brat… Is she a demon?’ Guts was about to strike the girl at the thought but quickly shook his head. ‘Doesn’t matter. She’s damn strong.’

The creature roared, rising again, its ruined face twitching. It hefted the rocket launcher, ready to resume its assault.

“Oi,” Guts barked, his voice low, edged with steel. “You—” He jerked his chin toward the girl. “Think you can keep it busy? I just need one swing and I’ll be able to take its head clean off.”

Nezuko turned to him, her pale pink eyes glowing faintly in the buzzing light. She nodded once, silent but certain.

Then she blurred forward.

The mutant swung its massive fist, aiming to crush her—but she shrank. In the blink of an eye, her form compressed, small enough to slip between the monster’s legs. Her hair trailed like a black-orange flame as she slid free, then grew again mid-motion, her body swelling larger as her heel drove upward into its jaw.

Guts blinked, lips curling into a smirk in a rare moment of amusement. ‘Changing her size?’

The battle turned into a grim parody of children’s games. The monster lashed out, fists like clubs, the rocket launcher slamming down, but Nezuko was always a step ahead. Small when she needed to dodge, larger when she needed to strike. Each kick, each stomp knocked the beast back, enraging it further.

Guts held his ground, biding his time. His eye tracked every twitch of the mutant’s movements, waiting for the one mistake. ‘Just one opening. That’s all I need.’

Nezuko ducked low, shrinking again as the creature’s swing whooshed over her head. She spun, growing tall, driving her foot square into its ribs. The impact sent the monster lurching sideways, arms flailing.

“There,” Guts growled.

He charged.

Boots pounded the soggy carpet, Dragonslayer arcing high. The monster turned, too slow, its ruined face twisting as the slab of iron came down.

With one mighty swing, Guts’ blade cleaved through its neck.

The head split from the shoulders in a spray of gore, the grotesque face still locked in a permanent snarl as it hit the carpet with a wet thud. The body stumbled once, twice, then collapsed in a twitching heap.

Blood pumped from the stump of its neck, staining the floor in wide rivers. The smell of rot and iron filled the room.

Guts didn’t relax. He stood over the corpse, sword raised, his one eye locked on the twitching body.

Nezuko, taller now, padded over and stood beside him, her hands balled into small fists, her mouth still bound by bamboo. Her gaze never left the corpse either.

The two waited in silence with the yellow lights continuing to buzz.

But the head did not reattach. The body did not rise.

At last, the twitching slowed and stopped. The bleeding didn’t.

It was over.

Guts exhaled through his nose, lowering Dragonslayer with a heavy thunk. His voice was a rasp, but a satisfied one. “Hnh. Guess even freaks like this die if you cut deep enough.”

Nezuko looked up at him, her pink eyes soft but steady. She gave the faintest nod, as though saying: Together.

But Guts stood still, Dragonslayer hanging at his side, its edge dripping with gore. His single eye, sharp as a hawk’s, shifted from the corpse to the girl who had fought beside him.

Her body had returned to its smaller frame now, her limbs once more delicate, her ribbon swaying gently as she tilted her head. Those wide, pale-pink eyes were fixed on him, blank yet strangely soft and innocent.

Guts’ grip on Dragonslayer tightened.

‘She isn’t normal. Not by a long shot.’

He replayed the fight in his head. Her impossible strength. The way her body grew and shrank as if her very flesh was clay molded at will. The way she had stomped the monster’s skull like it was nothing.

That wasn’t human.

He had fought demons who wore human faces, creatures that lured men in with the illusion of trust before ripping them apart. He had been betrayed more than once—by friends, by comrades, by the man he once called brother.

How easy would it be for this girl to pretend? To wait until his guard slipped, until he let her close, then strike?

‘If I cut her down now, it ends here. No surprises. No betrayal later.’

His jaw clenched. Slowly, he raised Dragonslayer, the massive slab of iron groaning as he angled it toward her. His muscles coiled, ready to swing.

Nezuko didn’t move.

She just stared at him, her head tilted slightly, pink eyes wide. Her expression hadn’t changed—not fear, not hostility, not even the tension of one preparing to fight. She simply stood there.

Waiting almost trusting.

Guts’ chest tightened, though his face betrayed nothing. His arms refused the order his mind screamed at them. ‘Damn it. Why can’t I—’

For a long moment, the two stood locked in silent battle—his suspicion against her stillness.

Then, with a grunt, Guts let Dragonslayer drop. He swung it up and over, slamming the hilt against his back, locking it into place. The clang echoed through the chamber like the closing of a gate.

He turned, not sparing her another glance, and started walking toward the next yellow hallway. His boots squelched against the soggy carpet, heavy and sure.

Nezuko blinked once. She followed, her steps light, her expression unchanged. If she understood the decision he had wrestled with, she gave no sign.

Guts’ thoughts churned with questions he would never ask. ‘What are you, girl? Why fight beside me?’

But he knew no answer would come. The girl was silent, and silence was all he could expect.

So he kept moving. Dragonslayer heavy on his back and Nezuko, quiet and inscrutable, walked at his side.

—-------------------------------

The corridor smelled of iron and damp rot.

Issei slumped against a yellowed wall, his chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged breaths. Every so often his body twitched, a reminder of the toll it had exacted.

Weiss and Yuuka flanked him, not daring to rest.

Yuuka’s knuckles whitened around her pipe as her eyes scanned the endless stretch of flickering halls. Her heart still hammered in her chest, memories of those crooked smiles gnawing at her mind. She kept expecting the laughter, the squeak of balloons, the wet slap of suction-cup hands against the carpet. But nothing came. Only the buzz of the lights and the steady drip of unseen water.

Weiss stood a little further ahead, rapier ready, blue eyes sharp. Even as her body cried for rest, she refused to lower her guard. ‘Complacency kills. This place thrives on weakness.’ The heiress had been taught to endure, and she would—because they couldn’t afford not to.

After all, the Grimm could appear at any moment. Or worse—things like those yellow-skinned monsters.

Behind them, Issei stirred, a faint groan slipping past his lips.

Yuuka’s head snapped toward him instantly. She crouched down at his side, setting her pipe aside with trembling hands. “Issei… hey, are you okay?” Her voice cracked slightly, but she didn’t care.

Weiss joined her, kneeling with practiced composure, though her eyes betrayed her concern. “You pushed yourself beyond reason,” she said quietly, her tone firm but softer than usual. “That power… it nearly tore you apart.”

Issei’s eyelids fluttered. He forced a weak grin, the kind that was meant to reassure them, even if his body screamed otherwise. “Heh… I told you guys… I’d protect you. Guess I wasn’t lying.”

Yuuka bit her lip. Relief flooded her chest, but anger too. “Idiot…! You nearly died! What if that power killed you instead of them? What would I– what would we have done?”

Weiss stayed silent, her hands tightening against her rapier’s hilt. She wanted to lecture him. To remind him that recklessness cost lives. That without him, she and Yuuka might already be dead. But when she looked at him slumped against the wall, pale and trembling, the words stuck in her throat.

Instead, she asked the question gnawing at her mind. “What was it, Hyoudou? That gauntlet… it changed. I’ve never seen that. And the voice…” Her eyes narrowed, frustration mixing with unease. “It announced itself as if it were alive.”

Issei blinked, his brow furrowing. “…I don’t know. Honest. It just… happened. I wanted to save you, Weiss. You were about to…” His throat tightened at the memory of her on the ground, those things closing in. “…and then it answered. That glove—no, that gauntlet, it gave me the strength I needed. But…”

He winced, his body twitching. “…it feels like it is tearing me alive every time it amplifies me. Like my body can’t keep up with it.”

Yuuka’s hands trembled as she hovered close, unsure if she should touch him, afraid she might hurt him more. “…Then maybe don’t use it again. Please. Not unless you absolutely have to.”

Issei smirked faintly despite the pain. “Can’t make promises like that, Yuuka. You know I’m not the type to just… watch and do nothing.”

Weiss exhaled sharply, her frustration finally spilling. “And what happens when your body gives out completely? What good will your so-called strength be then? You’d leave us defenseless!”

Her words cut, but not cruelly. They carried the weight of fear she didn’t want to admit.

Issei lowered his head, eyes closing. “…I’ll figure it out. Somehow. Because giving up isn’t an option.”

Silence followed. Only the buzz of the lights overhead filled the void.

Yuuka leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “…Just don’t die on us, Issei. I don’t think I could handle it.”

Weiss looked away, her face unreadable, though her grip on her weapon eased ever so slightly. She didn’t say it aloud—but she silently agreed. “For now just sleep and rest. Try to recover as much as you can, we'll keep watching until then.”

“Right, thanks. I’ll try.”

The three sat together in the quiet, surrounded by yellow walls that seemed to stretch on forever.

They had too many questions. About the monsters. About the gauntlet. About what any of this meant. But for now, all that mattered was the boy resting against the wall, the weight of his promise felt heavy on his shoulders.

And both girls knew, despite their fear, that they needed him, just as much as he needed them.

—-----------------------------------------

The buzzing of the lights faded. The damp carpet smell, the endless yellow halls, even the girls’ voices—all of it slipped away as though someone had pulled a curtain over reality.

Issei stirred with a sudden jolt, blinking his tired eyes open. But instead of yellow walls, he was met with a red sky.

Everything around him burned.

Flames stretched as far as he could see, endless waves of fire rolling over nothingness. There was no ground, no horizon, only fire and ash Yet somehow he was suspended above it all, floating as if gravity had lost interest in him.

He rubbed his eyes, half-expecting to wake again back in the Backrooms. “…Huh? Did I die? Please tell me I didn’t die. Weiss is gonna kill me if I just croak out like this…”

Despite the hellish scenery, a weird calm pressed against his chest. After hours trapped in the monotonous nightmare of the yellow halls, this fiery world felt almost… refreshing. At least it didn’t smell of mold and mildew.

Then the realization hit him like a punch: the girls weren’t here.

He twisted around, searching the skies. “Weiss? Yuuka?!” His voice cracked, swallowed by the roaring inferno below. No answer. His gut clenched tight. “Shit. Don’t tell me they’re gone—”

The air shifted. A low rumble, deep as thunder, rolled through the flames. Heat pressed down heavier, not from the fire but from something greater, something alive.

Then it appeared.

A shadow surged out of the fire like a living mountain. Wings spread wide, casting their own glow as the flames licked its scales. A dragon, blood-red, massive and intimidating. Its body radiated power in every movement. Eyes like emeralds locked onto him with an intelligence that felt older than the world itself.

Issei froze, heart slamming in his chest. Instinct screamed at him to run, but there was nowhere to go. So he did the only thing that made sense—he raised his fists, gauntlet or not, body trembling but ready.

“Y-Yeah, okay, giant fire dragon. Guess this is happening.” He tried to laugh, but his throat was dry. “Let’s go, then!”

The dragon lowered its head, smoke curling from its nostrils. But instead of fire, its voice came.

(Calm yourself, partner. We are not enemies.)

The voice rumbled not only in his ears but in his bones, shaking through him. Issei staggered back, wide-eyed. “Wait—you… you can talk?!”

(Yes.) The dragon’s maw curled into something close to a grin, though it was full of fangs. (And more than that. We need to talk.)

Issei blinked dumbly. His brain scrambled between panic and relief. “…Wait, wait, wait. Did you just call me partner?!”

(Indeed.) The dragon straightened, its wings beating once, stirring the firestorm below into a frenzy. (I am Ddraig. The Heavenly Red Dragon Emperor of Domination. The Welsh Dragon.)

The words carried weight, like titles carved into the bones of the world. But Issei only gawked.

“…D-Ddraig? Heavenly Red Dragon? Emperor? Welsh?” His hands flailed helplessly. “What the hell does any of that mean?! Where the heck am I? And where are Weiss and Yuuka?! If you hurt them I swear I’ll—”

The dragon’s eyes narrowed, but not in anger—more like amusement. (Calm yourself. Your physical body is still resting, recovering from your reckless awakening of the Boosted Gear. The girls you fret over are safe. At this moment, you are within your soul. This is where I reside.)

Issei stopped cold. His mouth hung open. “…My soul? You’re telling me this hellscape is inside me?!”

(Yes.) Ddraig’s voice boomed with certainty. (This is the reflection of your spirit. A world forged of fire and will. Where I, sealed within the Boosted Gear, dwell until summoned.)

It took Issei a long moment to process that. He scratched his head, muttering, “Okay… so giant flaming dragon in my soul, check. Girls still alive, check. I’m not dead… yet. But uh—” He raised a shaky hand, pointing at the towering beast. “—why the hell are YOU inside me?”

The dragon’s gaze sharpened, green eyes glinting with an almost nostalgic weight.

(Because you are the current bearer of the Boosted Gear. The Sacred Gear that is my prison, and our bond. A Longinus. One of the thirteen cursed and blessed arms forged by God himself—tools meant to allow humans to slay even gods.) 

Issei’s jaw dropped. His brain short-circuited at the words. “…Wait—WHAT?!”

The dragon didn’t pause.

(This is a long story so pay attention. Long ago, I fought against and alongside my rival, the White Dragon, Albion. Our battle scarred the world, shaking the heavens, and threatened all balance. During our battles we came across a war between the forces of Heaven, the Fallen and the Devils. Causing them to pause their battle and turn their weapons against us. In fury we decimated their forces for interrupting our battle, killing many. Until the God of the Bible intervened. Killing us and sealing our souls into sacred artifacts, the Sacred Gears, gifting them to humanity as weapons to defend themselves.)

Ddraig lowered his massive head until his molten eyes were level with Issei’s. The heat of his breath washed over him like a furnace.

(You, Hyoudou Issei, are the latest bearer of my power. You are my current host. But know this—every bearer before you has perished, crushed by the weight of this power.)

Issei staggered back a step, throat dry. His mind reeled with the enormity of it. God, dragons, holy weapons capable of killing gods themselves—words he never imagined he’d hear outside of manga or games.

“…S-So you’re saying I… me… some random pervy high schooler… got one of these… god-killing weapons?” He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s… uh, wow. Way above my pay grade.”

But beneath the nervous laughter, his chest tightened. Images of Weiss, of Yuuka, of the monsters they faced flickered in his mind. He thought of how powerless he had felt before that gauntlet erupted to life. How close he had come to losing them.

He clenched his fists. “…If this thing’s really mine, then I’ll use it to protect my friends. Even if it tears me apart, I’m not gonna sit back and watch them die.”

Ddraig’s grin widened, a low rumble like laughter echoing through the flames. (Hah. Bold words. Reckless. But that is what I expect of my partner.)

The firestorm dimmed slightly as Ddraig’s massive head lowered, his molten gaze fixed on Issei.

(But now,) the dragon rumbled, his voice like an earthquake muffled under oceans of flame, (We must speak of our current predicament.)

Issei’s shoulders stiffened. His hands curled at his sides, gauntlet faintly gleaming under the firelight. “Right! This whole endless yellow hell? Do you know something about it?”

His question hung sharp, desperate. If this dragon really lived inside him—if it had been watching—then maybe, just maybe, it had answers about where he, Weiss, and Yuuka had been thrown.

But Ddraig shook his head slowly, wings stirring embers. (No. Even to me, this place is strange. A maze of false walls and crawling shadows. I know absolutely nothing of this dimension. It is… foreign. And that makes it dangerous.)

Issei’s jaw dropped. “…Seriously? Even you don’t know? Great. Fantastic. Totally reassuring.” He threw his arms up in exasperation. “In case you haven’t noticed, I already figured out this place is bad news. I’ve fought skinless clowns, freakish monsters, and… don’t even get me started on the tall black things!”

The complaint spilled out with raw frustration, and for once, it made the dragon’s massive head tilt slightly, almost as if in amusement.

(You have already slain creatures of no small strength.) Ddraig admitted, his voice carrying a note of respect. (But do not let victories blind you. Danger lurks within every corner here. A single misstep could end your journey.)

Issei sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Constant paranoia mode. Don’t worry, Weiss already has that part covered.”

The dragon leaned closer, heat rolling off him like a furnace. (Then listen well, partner. Should you ever find yourself in mortal peril, remember this—Sacred Gears answer to the will of their host. Desire shapes them. And if your heart is strong enough, that desire may become reality.)

The words hit him harder than expected. Issei swallowed, thinking of Weiss lying bloodied on the carpet, Yuuka trembling but refusing to run. He thought of how much he’d wanted—needed—to save them. And how the gauntlet had answered.

“…So you’re saying… the more I want something, the stronger this Boosted Gear thing gets?”

(Correct,) Ddraig said, though his voice was edged with warning. (But remember this as well. For every action, every burst of strength, your body must pay the cost. The Boosted Gear does not grant miracles freely. Without stamina, without the will to endure, your body will collapse. Desire without strength is suicide.)

Issei’s face paled. He remembered the tearing pain, the way his muscles screamed, the blood dripping from his lip as if his body had been burning itself alive from the inside. He clenched his teeth, fists trembling. “…So that’s what that was.”

Ddraig’s eyes flared brighter, unashamed. (Power always demands a price. But those who survive the price… rewrite destiny.)

Before Issei could answer, the world around him shuddered. The skies trembled, the flames quivered as though the very fabric of this soul-realm was being pulled apart.

“H-Hey! What’s happening now?!” Issei shouted, spinning around, panic spiking in his chest.

The dragon’s wings spread wide, embers whipping through the air in a storm. (Do not fear. You are simply waking up.)

The shaking grew harsher. The flames blurred into streaks of crimson light. Issei felt himself being pulled backward, weightless, like he was falling through fire.

“Wait!” He yelled, desperation cracking his voice. “We’re not done here! What am I supposed to do now?”

Ddraig’s massive eyes narrowed, his voice a roar that echoed in every corner of Issei’s soul.

(Grow stronger, partner. Strong enough to survive. Strong enough that we may meet again without your body breaking. Until then—fight, survive, and dominate.)

And then, in a rush of flame and sound, the dragon vanished.

The world collapsed into a red light.

—----------------------------------------------

Until Issei’s eyes snapped open to the flickering yellow glow of the Backrooms. His lungs burned as he sucked in air, Weiss and Yuuka’s voices faint but urgent at his side.

They were right there, kneeling at his side, faces tense with worry, blue eyes sharp and wide. The sight of them cut through the fog in his head, loosening the knot in his chest.

He released a shaky breath and managed a weak smile. “Thank God… you’re both still here.”

Yuuka leaned closer immediately, the pipe forgotten on the floor beside her. “Issei, are you okay? You were… you were out for a while. You started twitching in your sleep, and we couldn’t wake you up. Did you… have a bad dream?”

Weiss stayed a little further back, but her posture betrayed her concern. Her rapier remained in hand, but her knuckles were white around the hilt. She studied him as if looking for cracks. “Yes, Issei, what happened? You looked… restless.”

Issei pressed his palm to his forehead. The images of fire and scales and green eyes still burned vividly in his mind. For a moment, he considered brushing it off. Say it was nothing. But no—if Ddraig was real, if the Boosted Gear was more than a freak accident, then they needed to know too.

“…It wasn’t just a dream,” He said slowly, voice rough. “I… saw something. Or someone. A dragon.”

That got both of their attention immediately. Yuuka’s breath hitched, Weiss’s brow arched in sharp skepticism.

“A… dragon,” Weiss repeated, voice cool, cautious.

“Yeah,” Issei nodded quickly, leaning forward despite the soreness in his body. “Big, red, terrifying, fire-everywhere kind of dragon. Said his name was Ddraig. The Heavenly Red Dragon Emperor. The Welsh Dragon. Apparently, he lives inside me. In my soul and that’s the reason I possess the red gauntlet called the Boosted Gear. That there was this big war that he interrupted against Angels, Fallen Angels, and Devils. And that god sealed him inside me. Apparently God gives Sacred Gears to humans to help them fight the supernatural.”

Silence followed, thick and heavy. Yuuka stared at him with her mouth slightly open, while Weiss blinked slowly as though trying to process the absurdity.

Finally, Weiss exhaled sharply through her nose. “Issei, are you sure you didn’t imagine this? You were unconscious, in pain, your body strained past its limit. Hallucinations would not be unusual in such a state.”

Issei groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “No, this wasn’t like that. It wasn’t fuzzy or weird. It was clear. And trust me, Weiss, my dreams don’t work like that. If it was a dream, there’d be beautiful girls in swimsuits with big breasts, not a giant talking dragon. And definitely not a male dragon. What would that have to do with—” He paused, holding his hands in front of him. “—you know, boobs?”

Both girls stared at him flatly.

Yuuka’s cheeks burned red as she looked away, muttering under her breath. Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose with a low sigh.

“Too much information, Issei.” Weiss said, tone icy but betraying a faint pink across her own cheeks.

“Yeah,” Yuuka agreed quietly, though her lips curved in the smallest of reluctant smiles. “Still… if what you’re saying is true, then…” She bit her lip, her blue eyes shimmering with unease. “That means our Earth, the normal Earth we came from, wasn’t so normal after all. Sacred Gears, gods, dragons… If even half of that is real, then everything we thought we knew is wrong.”

Weiss, ever the pragmatist, straightened her back and leveled him with a cool stare. “…Speculation won’t help us survive here. We’ll accept this for now. But I want proof. If this dragon is truly inside you, then summon this… Boosted Gear. I want to see it as I didn’t have a good look when you brought it out.”

Issei blinked. “Right now? Just like that?”

“Yes,” Weiss replied firmly. “If you can, then do it.”

Yuuka nodded encouragingly, though worry pinched the corners of her eyes. “You don’t have to strain yourself too much, but… if you can, maybe it’ll help us understand.”

Issei exhaled slowly. His heart pounded in his chest as he closed his eyes. He remembered Ddraig’s booming voice. ‘Sacred Gears answer to the will of their host.’

“…Alright. Let’s see if this works.”

He lifted his right arm and focused. For a moment, nothing. Just silence, the buzz of the ceiling lights. Then—

A flash of red light.

With a metallic clank that echoed through the halls, the Boosted Gear materialized over his arm. A deep red gauntlet with green jewels embedded into it, its surface sleek and intimidating, almost alive. The light shimmered along its edges, and the faint hum of power vibrated in the air.

Yuuka gasped aloud, her hands clasped together in shock. “Woah it’s more impressive than the red glove.”

Weiss’s eyes widened, her composed mask cracking. For once, she was speechless, her blue gaze locked on the gleaming weapon.

Issei flexed his fingers within the gauntlet, the metal responding like a second skin. He managed a grin despite the ache still gnawing at his body. 

The two girls exchanged a look, speechless for a long moment.

For once, Weiss had no cutting remark. And Yuuka, for once, had no joke.

The only sound was the hum of the gauntlet and the buzzing of the lights, heavy with the weight of what this meant for all of them.

The red glow faded as Issei willed the Boosted Gear to vanish. The gauntlet dissolved into light, slipping away into nothingness with a final echoing clink. His arm felt suddenly lighter, almost fragile in comparison.

Both Weiss and Yuuka watched closely, but when the last glimmer died, their eyes shifted back to him.

“So…” Issei rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward smile. “…now that we know it’s real, what do we do next?”

Weiss’s gaze softened, though her tone remained practical. “We stay put. For now.” She adjusted her stance, glancing down the corridor, her rapier gleaming faintly in the buzzing yellow light. “You’re in no condition to be moving, Issei. Unless you believe you’ve recovered enough to walk without collapsing, we’re not going anywhere.”

“I can move,” Issei said quickly, puffing his chest. The last thing he wanted was to look weak in front of them. With a grunt, he planted his palms against the wall and pushed himself up to his feet.

For a second, he actually stood.

Then the pain hit.

A sharp, burning ache tore through his muscles, every nerve screaming at once. His knees buckled, and he hissed through clenched teeth before flopping back down to the carpet with a thud. “Ow—damn it!”

Yuuka gasped, reaching for him immediately, while Weiss pressed her hand against her forehead with a long, suffering sigh.

“You’re hopeless,” Weiss muttered, shaking her head. She stepped closer, kneeling with a graceful precision beside him. Her pale hand reached out, hovering just above his chest.

“W-Weiss?” Issei asked, blinking at her sudden proximity.

Blue light bloomed softly around her fingers. Her Aura shimmered faintly, flowing like water as it sank into him. Warmth spread across his battered body, washing away some of the dull ache in his muscles.

Issei blinked, startled. “Wha—wait, why? You already said my Aura can’t be awakened.”

Weiss’s eyes narrowed, though her expression softened. “I know. But your body still responds when I share mine. It may not awaken your Aura, but it does accelerate your healing. We proved that much already.”

Before Issei could argue further, Yuuka slid down beside him too, her expression determined. She reached out, laying a trembling hand against his arm. Her Aura was less refined than Weiss’s, less disciplined, but it surged into him all the same, mixing with Weiss’s flow.

“Yuuka, you don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do.” She cut him off, voice trembling but firm. “You scared the hell out of me, Issei. If this helps you even a little, then I’m doing it.”

Warmth spread through him from both sides now. It wasn’t just physical—it was like their very essence was cradling him, reminding him that he wasn’t alone. His breaths grew steadier, the stabbing aches fading into a manageable throb. For the first time since collapsing, he felt… safe.

Almost too safe.

“…This feels… really nice,” Issei admitted with a faint, dazed smile, leaning back against the wall. His eyelids fluttered. “Like being wrapped up in a blanket. A really… uh… pretty blanket.”

Weiss’s eyebrow twitched, but her hand didn’t waver. Yuuka’s cheeks flared pink, though she stayed focused.

Then guilt stabbed through his chest. He grit his teeth, forcing his eyes open. “Wait—no. You shouldn’t do this. You’re giving me your strength, right? That means you’re draining yourselves. If something attacks while you’re empty, you’ll—”

“Shut it, Issei.” Weiss interrupted sharply, her hand pressing more firmly against him. Her tone was cold, but beneath it was steel-hard sincerity. “We can recover Aura by resting. You cannot recover your life if it’s lost. Learn the difference.”

Yuuka nodded, her lips pursed but her voice gentle. “She’s right, Issei. Don’t argue. Just… let us help you.”

His mouth opened, but no sound came out. For once, he couldn’t argue. The stubborn retort died in his throat. He slumped against the wall, the warmth of their power filling him, healing him in ways medicine never could.

“…Thanks,” He whispered at last, his voice low but sincere.

Weiss said nothing, but her eyes softened, just a fraction. Yuuka gave him a small, wobbly smile.

The three of them sat there in the endless yellow halls, silent except for the buzzing lights above and the faint glow of shared Aura. 

—----------------------------------

Far from where Issei, Weiss, and Yuuka were resting, the buzzing lights hummed on in another endless stretch of yellow corridors. The stench of mildew and damp carpet clung to the stale air, oppressive and heavy.

A sudden ripple broke the stillness, like a drop of ink spreading across stagnant water. And then—

Thud.

Boots hit the soggy floor, sharp and deliberate.

A girl stood there, not much older than Issei, though her presence carried a weight that far exceeded her years. Black hair tucked in an elegant bun, framing a face of striking sharpness. Her amber eyes burned like molten metal, full of fire and self-assurance. She wore red armor traced with golden embroidery, plates carved in the style of an imperial general, the kind reserved for those who commanded armies rather than followed them.

She swept her gaze across the strange new world with a smirk tugging at her lips, her stance radiating arrogance. She had expected to see something grand—perhaps a battlefield, perhaps a palace. Instead, what met her eyes were walls stained with peeling yellow wallpaper, lights flickering overhead, and the faint sound of dripping water that had no source.

Her smirk faltered.

“This… isn’t where I was,” She muttered under her breath, her voice sharp, tinged with annoyance.

The corridors stretched infinitely before her, a repeating nightmare of yellow and mold. She took a step forward, her armored boots squelching against the damp carpet, and for the first time in a long while, confusion crept across her proud features.

Her amber eyes narrowed, scanning the empty halls for some sign of life, some opponent to challenge her, someone to announce her presence to. But there was nothing. No soldiers, no servants, no enemies. Just silence.

The arrogance melted from her expression, leaving behind only sharp confusion. “…Where am I?”

The words echoed softly down the hall, swallowed quickly by the endless buzz of the fluorescent lights.

For someone who had always carried herself as if she owned the ground she walked on, it was a rare sight. That flash of uncertainty in her eyes, the faint tension in her jaw.

And in that endless maze of repeating yellow walls, her voice lingered, unanswered.

Finally done, comment and tell me if I made a mistake. Try to guess the monster Guts and Nezuko fight. My light and internet came back and I could finally finish this story. Whose the mysterious new girl?