Trembling, he wandered alone through the forest at night. The trees loomed over him like silent sentinels, their twisted branches clawing at the sky. Wolves howled in the distance, their cries piercing the silence and sending shivers down his spine. Fear gripped him as a cold breeze whispered through the trees, rustling the leaves with ghostly murmurs. Each step forward felt heavier than the last, but something compelled him onward.

Venturing further, he stumbled upon a massive cave, its entrance gaping like a monstrous mouth. The jagged edges of the opening were stained a deep red, almost as if the cave itself had been wounded. Confusion and fear battled within him, his instincts screaming for him to turn back. Yet, drawn by an inexplicable force, he stepped into the cavern's maw with cautious steps.

Inside, an eerie stillness replaced the wind's whispers. Strange and unblinking eyes fixed their gaze upon him from the shadows, their presence unnatural and unnerving. Twisted figures, grotesque and ghastly, seemed to emerge from the darkness, their forms half-seen yet utterly horrifying. They did not speak, but their very presence pleaded for something—blood. The walls, rough and uneven, bore markings in what looked like smeared, dried blood. It was as if they carried the weight of countless tales—terrible, creepy, and peculiar stories etched into their very stone. Everything about this place beckoned him into the depths of hell.

A movement caught his eye. Ahead, a bizarre figure stood waiting. It was clad in a ghostly mask, its expression frozen in a haunting grin. A massive scythe rested in its grasp, the blade gleaming under the dim, flickering light. The figure was shrouded in a black cloak, its form barely distinguishable from the darkness that surrounded it.

Tick tock... tick tock...

The sound echoed, unnatural and mocking.

Strange Figure: "Congratulations! You have died! Welcome to hell. I hereby assign you to the lower class of spirits. Welcome to the Controlium!"

(School bell rang.)

A sudden shift. The scene flickered and changed.

Small kids poured out of the school, their excited shouts filling the air as they rushed home. The seniors followed, strolling in groups, their laughter and chatter carrying a different weight. Among them emerged a group of bullies, their presence sending ripples through the gathered students.

Then, from the school doors, came the most popular student—Mike Jones. His posture was confident, his gaze unwavering. But as he moved forward, the bullies stepped into his path, forming a barrier between him and the way ahead.

Smith – "Oh, look, the most popular kid is in a hurry. Go on, who's stopping you?"

Mike met his gaze, unflinching. "A 5.7-foot, piece of shit."

Smith's expression darkened. "Bastard! Who do you think you are?"

Mike smirked, his voice as calm as ever. "A freaking nobody…"

Before anyone could react, Mike's leg shot up with a brutal precision. His foot connected with Smith's face, sending him sprawling to the ground. A gasp rippled through the crowd as Smith coughed up blood, stunned by the sudden violence.

Mike – "...who can kick your ass."

Without another word, he stepped over Smith and continued walking. The students remained frozen, their shock rendering them silent. Only one person seemed unaffected. Misa, a girl standing at the edge of the crowd, watched him with a curious gaze, her expression unreadable.

(The next day in the Principal's Office)

Mike sat in the chair across from the principal, his posture relaxed yet indifferent. The principal regarded him with a firm gaze, steepling his fingers as he chose his words carefully.

Principal – "Do you think what you did yesterday was the right thing?"

Mike exhaled, tilting his head slightly. "Well, if self-defense is a crime, then I suppose I could be one."

Principal – "One?"

Mike smirked. "Put your own words."

The principal sighed, shaking his head. "You are a popular and respected student. Don't you think this act could affect your reputation? What if someone else took your position?"

Mike shrugged. "What would be the fun of the hunt if there were no prey?"

The principal frowned. "Well, a new girl has joined our school. Her name is Misa, and I think you've got competition."

Mike's expression didn't change, but there was something in his eyes—interest. "A competitor, huh? That's good for you."

Principal – "Huh?"

Mike – "Good luck with your extended work hours, sire."

With that, he stood up and left the office, his movements deliberate and composed. The principal watched him go, exhaling slowly.