The crematorium was a tense battleground, with multiple factions locked in a volatile standoff.
The three NPCs remained utterly indifferent, yet every player knew—should anyone draw them into the fray, the retribution would be swift and merciless.
Erik displayed her firearm, a silent yet potent deterrent to those eyeing the cremator behind her. She had intentionally positioned herself between the furnaces chosen by the white-robed female ghost and the mother-child pair. Any player attempting to seize the ashes she held would inevitably risk provoking the NPCs—a secondary yet deadly threat.
Thus, Erik carved out a fragile moment of respite. She had neither the intention nor the strength to embroil herself in the players' conflict; all she needed was to protect the vital clue to her own escape.
To her, a deathless run in this dungeon seemed nearly impossible. By this point, who didn't realize how critical the ashes were?
Players who missed the earlier opportunities were desperate to turn the tide, while those who had risked everything to obtain their clues were equally desperate to protect them—or snatch back what had been lost.
It was a death match, with no room for retreat.
No one knew who struck first, but chaos once again erupted within the crematorium.
This fight was more brutal than the one on the bus. Each blow aimed to permanently eliminate an opponent—because so long as everyone had points to purchase healing kits, no fight would ever truly end.
In the melee, Erik was ambushed. It seemed more a test than a full assault—she didn't fire her gun, but spun and slashed, her cleaver cleaving through the attacker's arm in a single, decisive stroke.
"Aaagh!" the player howled, clutching the stump.
"Don't try me. I have more than just a gun—I have knives, and plenty of them," Erik said coldly, flicking blood from her blade. Crimson droplets spattered the floor like falling plum blossoms.
No matter how fiercely the players scoured the crematorium for makeshift weapons, none could match a real blade.
After that, no one dared approach her again.
Those who lost fled or were captured and restrained. The blistering heat radiating from the cremation furnaces mingled with the coppery scent of blood. To Erik, the room was filled with flickering silhouettes and fountains of scarlet.
The battle spilled outside. Only after a long time did the storm settle—Carson's stolen corpse was reclaimed by Alice, who joined forces with Jax and others. Erik saw Alice crawling on the ground, clutching Carson's leg in her teeth. Carson, wielding a box he had acquired from who knows where, struck her head repeatedly, yet she refused to let go.
Not everyone managed to hold on to their corpse. Erik overheard murmurs:
"Let's ask the driver if we can go back and start over."
"It's our only option now…"
Eventually, all the bodies were delivered into the furnaces. By then, Erik's cremation chamber had only eight minutes left to complete the process. She became even more vigilant. To her, every other player was a potential threat—none would be allowed to come near.
The final eight minutes crawled by. Two of the NPCs' furnaces lost power briefly; the white-robed ghost and the young male ghost left and soon returned with urns to collect the ashes and unburned remains. Erik didn't wait for an urn. As soon as her furnace door opened, she used a shovel to scrape the remains into a bag, securing them immediately.
Without delay, she left the crematorium. She knew another wave of chaos would erupt once the rest of the corpses were finished burning.
Outside, she saw several players bound to pillars and windows. They struggled, glaring at her with eyes full of fury—two of them she recognized from the morgue.
If this were a drama, they would be the "good guys" who'd had their treasures stolen by "villains." But Erik didn't dare untie them.
She too now possessed a "treasure," and she was alone. If those players couldn't reclaim what they'd lost, who's to say they wouldn't come for hers?
It didn't matter who the corpse had originally belonged to—now, the world was split into those with ashes, and those without. The two groups were natural enemies.
Unless the bus driver was willing to take them back through the incense shop and the hospital, there was no way to untie this deadlock.
Moving swiftly, Erik found where the NPCs had placed the urns. She took one for herself, then grabbed a few extras to stash in the supermarket—just in case.
Wasting no time, she found a quiet corner to transfer the remains into an urn, then headed for the crematorium gates.
In the guard booth by the entrance sat a few players—neutral ones who had chosen not to get involved. They didn't want to stay on the bus, either. The driver was too unnerving, so they waited outside.
As Erik approached, a female player stood and asked, "You're done?"
Erik recognized her and gave a nod.
"What about the others?" Julia asked.
"No idea. Should be soon," Erik replied, not bothering to ask why they hadn't returned to the bus. She walked on alone.
As she neared the vehicle, she saw players frantically speaking to the driver. Listening closely, she caught snippets.
"…just take us back… say something, please—we'll pay, anything you want…"
"Is the driver mute? I don't think I've ever heard him speak…"
"…what do we do if he refuses… should we hijack the bus…"
At the word "hijack," Erik's heart lurched. She dared not approach.
Ever since the game began, the driver had remained eerily silent, his demeanor disturbingly content. Even when the white-robed ghost killed someone on board, the bus hadn't so much as swayed. Would such a man allow the bus to be seized?
Steadying her nerves, she slipped into a shadow nearby.
Just as she settled in, she looked back toward the bus—and saw the players were gone. Only the three NPCs remained.
Had they really all gotten off in just a few seconds?
The driver turned his head and met her gaze.
Erik inhaled deeply, but didn't avert her eyes.
He looked away and resumed his frozen pose behind the wheel.
Unseen by her, three humanoid bulges slowly sank into the floor of the bus. Only their terrified faces remained visible—until the first new passenger boarded, and those visages were consumed.
The white-robed ghost licked her lips at the sight but, catching a glimpse of the driver's head, she said nothing. She simply stroked the urn in her arms.
Erik quietly boarded the bus, choosing a seat close to the door.
Soon, Julia and the others returned and took seats in the back.
Inside the crematorium, ashes were being sorted and packed. Jax and his companions moved in unison, protecting each other as they carried their urns away.
"They're gone! Someone let them out!" Alice exclaimed.
"Must've been one of the escapees," Isabelle warned.
Their group had dwindled to four—Jax, Piper, Alice, and Isabelle. The other players in their alliance, having lost their corpses and failed to reclaim them, had turned against them. Only these four remained. Isabelle was agile, Alice fearless, Jax strong, and Piper—silent but fierce. It was only through their perfect cooperation that they'd preserved their ashes.
"We shouldn't board just yet," Jax said. "Let's lie low a while."
"Should we find the girl with the storage item?" Alice asked. "We could put the urns in her item, so no one can steal them."
Piper nodded immediately. But Jax shook his head. "Not a good idea."
Alice protested, "She seems trustworthy. And she already has ashes—she wouldn't covet ours."
"That's not the point," Jax replied. "She can take care of herself. But if we store our ashes with her, others might figure it out. If she's targeted and we can't protect her, we'll lose everything."
Isabelle added firmly, "I won't entrust my key to someone else."
So they dropped the idea.
Once the crematorium cleared, a player dragged in a corpse and moved to lock the door—only for another figure to dart inside.
"Don't attack! I'm not here to steal—I've got my own!"
Swearing an oath, the newcomer relaxed only after confirming the door was still unlocked and then helped bring in his own corpse.
Both were fresh. Neither questioned the source. One had been snatched during the earlier chaos near the bus; the other, found outside.
They shared a glance and a small smile—no need to ask too many questions.
Once the door was bolted, the bodies were fed into the flames.
*Crash!*
*Clatter!*
Glass shattered. Both players scrambled for weapons, eyes blazing.
The intruder climbing in through the window looked equally vicious. In this hellish game, survival meant one thing—kill or be killed.
Back on the bus, Erik saw the next group arrive—Jax and his allies.
They exchanged quiet greetings and sat together, united by common cause.
Other players, emboldened by the sight of urns in multiple hands, began boarding. Jax joked, "Aren't you afraid we're just holding empty urns?"
The new arrivals startled, stepping back as if they'd walked into a lion's den.
"Kidding," Jax grinned. "Take a seat."
Then he turned to the window, counting how many players still hadn't come aboard.
Outside, in the shadows, a different kind of group had gathered. Those who sought to steal ashes now vastly outnumbered those who held them.
But no matter the odds, the urn-holders had no choice but to defend what they'd earned.
In the darkness, the hungry eyes of the waiting players glinted like wolves. Through the glass, they could see the silhouettes of urns cradled within.
"Let's go for it," one of them whispered.
"Do it! If we don't, we die anyway."
"That girl said there would be revenge for killing…"
"That's later! Right now, we have to live!"
Clutching their weapons, they prepared to make their move.