The air-conditioning was on and music was playing inside the empty casino where chips and cards were strewn everywhere. But fortunately, there were no red slimes or half-melted victims.

"Truth."

As we continued deeper in, Anastasia climbed over a bar counter and tossed me something large. I caught the heavy case that reminded me of a container of industrial cleaner.

"Orange juice?"

"It's important to stay hydrated. Especially that Cla.s.s Rep of yours since jetlag can be taxing on the body."

Since it came from behind the bar counter, was it a c.o.c.ktail chaser?

"But how many liters is this? How many weeks does it take for an American to drink all of this?"

"I can't tell you anything about liters. This is the country of pounds and gallons, remember?"

Even after I poured a gla.s.s for each of us, there didn't seem to be any less of it in the container. It was too heavy and bulky to carry, so we left the bottle after drinking a gla.s.s each.

"Oh, is that it, Truth?"

We found it in the very back, but in a location where the customers on the floor could see it.

The thick metal door was of course closed, but that did not matter. We pried it open with a cyber attack and walked right in.

The secret underground pa.s.sageway unavoidably reminded me of the Bright Cross which had taken root deep below Kukyou City.

The walls and floor made of silver stainless steel were lined with entirely sterile fluorescent lights.

"(...Tch. I guess the floor isn't reflective enough to see up the Cla.s.s Rep's skirt.)"

"Truth?"

"No one cares about yours, little girl."

"That kind of hurts, you know!? It's not that I want you to see, but I don't like being entirely ignored either!!"

We continued our conversation while grappling a bit.

"Is this a normal sort of facility that any casino would have?"

"Don't ask me. But this is Vegas. We'll do anything to ensure our trust in money. The most common timing for bank robberies isn't in transit or at the vault; it's when the money is being loaded into the transport truck parked at the back entrance, so it would make sense to have a secret exit."

Anastasia smoothly answered me in her unnecessarily feminine j.a.panese.

Las Vegas was a casino city, so if each of those casinos had a secret like this, wouldn't the ground under the city be full of tunnels?

Once we entered a very long and straight pa.s.sageway, we found a lot of people there. A man in a pricey suit leaned against the wall, a bunny girl sat on the floor, and an elderly couple was holding each other close... The people here were definite survivors. When the commotion had begun, they had ignored the surrounding screams and prioritized their own safety. ...And of course, we were no exception.

Anastasia gestured us onward.

"Focusing on the people here won't change anything. Let's keep going, Truth."

"R-right."

I really didn't want to use this phrase when we were up against those gels, but this was a fluid situation. This place would not be safe forever and then the people here would leave like water being pumped out.

I think the pa.s.sageway was more than a kilometer long.

It took me a while to notice the rail embedded in the center of the floor. There may have been an electric vehicle used to quickly travel its length.

"Pant, pant. We shouldn't have left that orange juice. If I'd known this was coming, I would have at least filled up a bottle with tap water. I mean, that could make you sick if you're unlucky, but this is no time to be picky and demand $4.99 bottles of carbonated water or mineral water. Right, Truth?"

"...Oh, that's right. Water and food are going to become an issue from now on."

The gels seemed to prey on living creatures, but it was unknown if they would eat "dead" food such as the meat and vegetables in the supermarkets. But if they would just devour everything, this would be a major problem indeed.

Needless to say, we could not function without food and water. That could lead to conflicts between humans and not just versus the gels.

And if they could eat more than just humans, their movement patterns would be even more difficult to predict. They would probably physically trap us and go in for the attack.

"It's looking like Vegas might be done for."

"Yeah, maybe so..."

I chose not to provide a clear statement and stuck to a "maybe".

"The situation is progressing at an accelerating rate," said Maxwell. "If the damage spreads exponentially, it is easy to predict a scenario in which all people have vanished from Las Vegas and only those gels wander the streets."

"Maxwell, is the damage limited to Las Vegas? Is this happening anywhere else?"

"No. There are some cases of misinformation being posted for amus.e.m.e.nt, but there is no objectivity to those reports. For the time being, I can say the damage is being contained to Las Vegas only."

...Contained, huh?

That made it sound like things were a lot better than they could be.

But to be honest, I found it difficult to imagine Las Vegas's administration making a counterattack. I mean, these liquid monsters could crawl through even the tiniest gap. Even if the actual danger went away, the damage to their reputation would remain. The desert was a large place, so some would find it simpler to build a new casino city than to restore this one.

Once our conversation started to die down, a stairway leading up finally came into view. It really was a single straight pa.s.sageway. I had to wonder how many other unconnected secret pa.s.sageways ran below this city. It felt like walking along just one of the pieces of yarn in a hand-knit scarf.

We pressed our ears against the metal trap door to see what we could hear outside.

"...I don't hear the wind anymore," said Anastasia.

"Let's hope that isn't just because the door is so thick."

"No. Based on the personal site of a civilian meteorologist, the sandstorm has officially ended. I am currently checking several other sites to confirm..."

I pressed my palms against the door and took a deep breath. After preparing myself, I slowly opened the trap door.

A sudden gale...did not blow us away.

It was quiet.

The sandstorm had apparently settled down. But it was dark. That had nothing to do with weather conditions. It was simply close to sunset. But I could not appreciate the beautiful setting sun of that desert city. At the moment, it felt like running across a raging fire.

After I slowly climbed outside, a sour smell stung my nose. We were at a trash dump behind a restaurant. The casino couriers may have packed the cash and gold bars in trash bags and buckets before sending them underground.

And a question occurred to me.

"...Why is it so quiet?"

Las Vegas was known for having more outside tourists than actual residents. The average number on a weekday was more than four million. If that many people were fleeing from the gels, I should have heard heart-rending screams from every direction.

"You're kidding, right?"

Anastasia sounded dazed as she nervously poked her head out.

The Cla.s.s Rep held that 11-year-old from behind to help calm her unease. Or did her silk clothing just feel that good to the touch?

"Satori-kun, does this mean...?"

"Yes."

This was the worst case scenario.

I placed that hurdle before us while praying that someone would prove me wrong.

"Everyone has already been wiped out... Those things have taken over Las Vegas."

That changed how I thought about any presences I sensed.

The word "survivors" vanished from my mind.

I saw something move out of the corner of my eye.

That presence was like a ma.s.s of fattened pride that did not even try to hide itself. What was it that appeared from further down the alley? It was of course a translucent red slime the size of a home refrigerator.

It was bigger than they were before.

...Or was this several of them combined?

We did not have time to sit around and think about it.

I kicked a rock at my feet to break a nearby restaurant window. The gla.s.s noisily shattered, the improved ventilation sent the wind blowing through the building, and the sand made its way inside the restaurant. Without even waiting for the gel to follow, I gestured the Cla.s.s Rep and Anastasia.

"(Run.)"

The gel had come from further in the alley, so we were forced to flee toward the main road.

But things were even worse there.

The Cla.s.s Rep flinched back like the sight had physically struck her.

"Uuh!?"

There was red everywhere.

It filled the large street which was as wide as a runway. It was like a river of jelly. We had known there were a lot of these things in Las Vegas, but wasn't this a little too many!?

"Perhaps they can multiply or split apart," suggested Maxwell. "If so, you need to quickly learn the conditions behind it."

"...No."

I audibly gulped.

On a closer inspection, I could tell this river was not a single solid ma.s.s. L-shapes, long bars, X-shapes, and fat clumps... A few different huge and malformed ma.s.ses were packed in together like something from a falling block puzzle. It was just hard to tell since they all had the same color and texture.

"Apparent volume and actual ma.s.s doesn't always match up. Like a chrysanthemum flower, a cheerleader's pompoms, or the petticoat giving volume to the long skirt of a princess's dress. There are several ways to increase volume."

That would mean this was a collection of thin membranes...but it was still a threat.

The gels would dissolve and absorb anything biological they came in contact with. So even if this was only a change in appearance, the greater surface area was a threat.

I couldn't tell the sidewalk apart from the road. Not even a martial arts master could have walked through there without touching a single drop.

"They weren't doing this before," said Anastasia. "Are they learning how to use their bodies?"

Whatever the case, we had to turn back.

It was all over if they noticed us.

I gestured to the Cla.s.s Rep and Anastasia again and we slowly walked back the way we had come.

Just then, the previous red gel returned to the alley through the broken window.

We could not go forward or turn back.

There was no time to spare.

"Run!"

With the main road and back alley both blocked, we had no choice but to run into the restaurant before even checking inside. Just as I tackled the gla.s.s door open, I clearly sensed the entire city's atmosphere crawling. I had made an enemy of Las Vegas. That was how it felt.

The red gel immediately charged in through the broken window. If we just ran around on the ground, we would be killed. Our only hope was what Maxwell had mentioned earlier.

All three of us desperately jumped over the counter and entered the kitchen. I had built up too much momentum and my back slammed into the oven door. It was an industrial oven that could probably cook a full pig.

And then the gel rushed in at me.

I could not focus on anything else.

I opened the oven door and rolled to the side. The gel missed its target and ended up inside the cooking device, so I slammed my shoulder against the door to force it shut.

I felt a squeeze at my heart when the gel plastered itself against the heat-resistant gla.s.s a centimeter away from me. Fahrenheit? The units were unfamiliar, but I shouted out as I grabbed the k.n.o.b and turned it as far as it would go.

The gas quickly ignited and began a merciless cremation.

With no mouth, the gel could not scream, but I did not have time to worry about that. From the way it thrashed around, it seemed to be suffering and in pain. Whether this would kill it or not was another matter.

A way to drive them back was enough.

I grabbed a few metal objects from the countertop, but the kitchen knife and fruit knife were too short and would leave me at risk. I had no choice but to duct tape one to the end of a mop handle and then switch on a gas burner. Even if blades had no effect on the gels, they would probably fear heated metal.

"Cla.s.s Rep, there are some small gas cylinders for a portable stove there, so grab a few of them."

"S-sure..."

"Um, Truth, are you trying to build a bomb?"

"In the culinary world, there are handheld burners used to add scorch marks to fish. If we use one of those to periodically heat the end of this knife spear, it won't lose its effectiveness. ...But a bomb might not be a bad idea. Maxwell, locate any strong drinks with a high alcohol content. If we mix that in a bottle with some liquid cleaner, it should work as a Molotov c.o.c.ktail."

"Warning: Spreading fire in a disaster environment is not recommended."

"It's an emergency. Please."

Using the data displayed when I viewed them through my smartphone, I selected a bottle from among the alcoholic drinks lined up on a shelf.

That was when a low tremor shook the entire restaurant.

"What was that? An earthquake?"

"No," replied Maxwell. "Rather than traveling through the ground, the vibration appears to be in the walls. It is likely caused by an irregular disturbance in the air."

The Cla.s.s Rep looked around worriedly with several gas cylinders in her arms.

Anastasia gulped.

"Hey, this is bad, Truth. Your handmade weapons might not be much help."

"You don't mean..."

"Sure. I have completed the air fluid dynamics calculations based on the shaking of the outer wall. It seems the 'river' outside is reacting."

"W-wait. That was only increasing its apparent volume, so its actual weight didn't change, right? So it should only be able to float around like a balloon or styrofoam, right!?"

"Sure. However, whether it is made of steel or plastic, there is no difference in the disturbance to the air - that is, the wind gust - created by a fan of the same size. If that great volume is waved all at once, it can likely create the same force as a hammer of air."

I didn't even have time to scream.

I abandoned my half-made Molotov c.o.c.ktail, grabbed my knife spear, and ran for the back entrance. Just as we all ran out into the alley, the entire restaurant was flattened as if a giant hand had slapped down on it. The force was so great that it felt like we were reading a surreal children's book.

The oddity stared down at us like a brontosaurus made by patching together several malformed bags of water.

It swung its head around. If that hit us, we would become mincemeat even without the powerful acid effect. It wasn't like it could help, but I still threw the heated knife spear.

To that thing, it had to have been like a fairy throwing a toothpick.

And yet.

Nevertheless.

As soon as the knife spear hit it, the red brontosaurus writhed in pain, failed to support its own weight, and flipped over. I saw something like translucent red flower petals scattering into the sky. It may have been returning to its original puddle-like body because it could not maintain the extra volume of a cheerleader's pompom or a princess's long skirt.

But that was all it took?

The effect was so dramatic that I wished I hadn't let go of the knife spear.

"Anyway, we need to get out of here. Cla.s.s Rep, Anastasia!"

The same miracle might not happen twice. Since we hadn't held repeated experiments, it could always be something other than the heat that caused it. If we could run away, we had to do so. That had to be our fundamental strategy.

"What do we do now, Truth!?"

"The sandstorm is gone, so the job for the rescuers will be the same. They'll be coming from the sky, so we'll have to wait for rescue while providing some kind of signal near a heliport!"

"No," said Maxwell. "The situation has changed in the past few hours. I can detect no cellphone signals being sent out in vain. The digital screams have gone silent. Other than the few survivors underground, we should a.s.sume everyone has been killed."

...I knew that.

We had to a.s.sume most of the four million people in Las Vegas had been swallowed up. If those things could increase their apparent volume like flower petals, they could form a bridge between buildings and even break down a building wall using that air hammer. That restaurant was a good example. Holing up in a solid fortress and waiting it out was no longer an option. And if the outside rescuers decided the city was utterly destroyed, they might not even send out any more helicopters.

But.

Even so.

I had to bet on the possibility with the greatest odds of success. After all, it wasn't just my life at risk here. The Cla.s.s Rep and Anastasia were here too. I at least wanted to get them on a helicopter. No matter what.

Just then, the Cla.s.s Rep threw a question my way as she ran behind me.

"But are you really okay with that, Satori-kun?"

"Kh."

This was the best option.

This was a humanitarian way of thinking that would most reduce the risk of death.

But the Cla.s.s Rep gently said more.

As if gently stabbing me.

"I mean, if you do that, you can't save Erika-san or Ayumi-chan."

The unfortunate debris accident during extravehicular activity the other day has raised a new concern. If an astronaut does die during an experiment, where will their body be kept and preserved? How can we best preserve the s.h.i.+p's hygienic environment? We wish to prevent the spread of disease. Both for the health of the astronauts and to reduce the risk of contaminating the lunar surface with bacteria from earth.

The view of outer s.p.a.ce as a great emptiness is changing as our architectural and s.h.i.+pbuilding technology increases. If we continue building stations above a certain size, there is a risk of breeding our own greatest enemy out in s.p.a.ce.

It is possible we earthlings could create the aliens ourselves. Even if it started out as perfectly normal intestinal bacteria, it is unknown what effects the cosmic rays, weightlessness, and other aspects of an extraterrestrial environment could have, so we cannot ignore this. We must not produce casualties on a greater level than the Spanish flu or the bubonic plague.

Russia has suggested we solve this problem using preservation technology. Similarly, we have contacted Herbal Science. We have decided to begin experimentation using some of the preservatives used for Archenemy development.