Date a Bride (Date A Live Fanfiction)

"W-What the—!"

"!"

Chaos erupted in an instant. The staff at the control panel scrambled to undo the commands, their frantic voices overlapping in a cacophony of panic.

The worker inside the experiment chamber froze, his eyes snapping back and forth between the now-free spirit lying motionless on the floor and the people beyond the reinforced glass.

His mind struggled to process what had just happened, the shock rendering him momentarily paralyzed.

In that fleeting moment of stillness, his gaze locked onto the horrified faces of his colleagues outside.

They were just as confused and panicked as he was, their faces pale and eyes wide with disbelief. The only one who seemed calm—unbothered, even—was Westcott.

He calmly stepped back to his spot in front of the reinforced glass, hands casually tucked into his pockets, a faint smile playing on his lips as if he were watching a mildly interesting show.

"What the hell is going on?!"

The head of the session's shout jolted him back to reality. Desperation carved into his boss's face, the man slammed his fists against the reinforced wall, hitting it with all his might, his teeth clenched as he demanded answers.

Yet, the world outside seemed to crawl in slow motion. The staff at the control panel furiously typed away, their frantic voices climbing over one another in a chorus of panic as they scrambled to regain control.

Alarms blared without pause, their relentless shrieking punctuated by the chaotic strobe of flashing red lights.

"Open the door!"

"OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!"

Turning his gaze, the man saw the remaining two team members pounding desperately on the metal door separating the two chambers. But there was no response from outside.

The entrance to the experiment room was designed as a dual-door system, with a narrow, sterile chamber in between to form an unbreachable barrier. The door couldn't be opened manually from the inside—it was controlled exclusively from the panel control in the observation area.

"Huh?"

Just as his sense of time and reality began to slip away—whether from shock or disbelief at the situation—he felt something gripping his leg.

It was only then that he remembered the freed spirit—the one they were now trapped inside with.

A surge of survival instinct crashed over him, forcing him to steady his racing thoughts. She's too weak, he told himself, a mantra to keep the rising panic at bay.

Her Reiryoku is nearly depleted. Her body's broken, shattered by years of torture. Deprived of sleep for so long, she'd be in a deep slumber by now... Even if she weren't, she'd be too weak to move. Too weak to stand. She couldn't possibly—

Yet, as he clung to these reassurances, he made no effort to glance down at what was gripping his leg.

There wasn't time.

"!"

Those allowed inside the experiment chamber were equipped with special white suits made from reinforced material, designed to be both lightweight and durable.

These suits were engineered to withstand extreme conditions: sudden temperature drops, corrosive chemicals, and even electrical surges.

From head to toe, the suits covered the wearer completely, leaving no part of the body exposed.

However...

Just as the technicians outside managed to shut the alarms down, a sudden noise broke the fragile quiet inside the experiment chamber.

A sound that, under normal circumstances, might have been mistaken for something as harmless as a balloon popping.

But in the current situation—especially for those who turned their eyes toward where the spirit was supposed to lie motionless, whether by instinct or mistake—the source of the noise became horrifyingly clear for them.

The reinforced white suit, designed to protect its wearer from even the most extreme conditions, bulged grotesquely for the briefest of moments before it burst.

Blood erupted in a violent spray, painting the pristine walls and floor in streaks of crimson.

"Eh?"

The two men at the door and their boss slowly shifted their heads toward the source of the popping sound, noticing the horrified expressions of the staff outside.

Their gazes trailed to the spot where the outsiders were looking, toward where their colleague had been standing just moments ago.

He was gone.

One moment, he had been there, suited and upright. The next, all that remained was a ruin of torn fabric and splintered bone.

"W-What the..."

From the wreckage, a jagged, thorn-like structure shot upward, black and glistening, its sharp edges dripping with blood. It moved too fast to fully comprehend, rising and twisting into a shape that was almost human—It reached the ceiling and began to spread, slowly filling the chamber.

Everything fell into a suffocating silence. The only sounds were the faint, mechanical hum of the experiment lamps flickering on and off, their light casting erratic shadows across the blood-splattered walls and the bloodied white suits of the workers trapped inside.

Time seemed to stretch, the seconds dragging like hours, until one of them realized—the spirit was nowhere to be seen.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

The scream tore through the silence, raw and primal, as one of the workers clawed at the door, their bloodied gloves leaving smears of red on the metal.

"OPEN THE DOOOOOOOOR!"

Another joined in, their voice cracking under the weight of panic. They pounded on the door with fists that were already bruised and bleeding, their cries desperate, pleading.

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"

"SAVE US!"

"..."

The session's head watched in horror as his workers desperately called for help. He tore his gaze away, forcing himself to look down, trying to steady his ragged breathing.

His hands trembled as he pressed his palms against the cold, reinforced glass. His eyes flicked toward the staff at the control panel, searching for any sign of action—any attempt to save them.

But they were frozen. Whether from sheer terror or the crushing realization that nothing could be done, they stood motionless. Their faces were ghostly pale, their hands hovering limply over the controls, as if touching them might make the nightmare worse.

Finally, the session head's gaze shifted to their last hope—the one person who might have had the authority or the means to intervene.

"!"

He was smiling.

Not just smiling—grinning, his eyes wide with uncontainable excitement, like a child who had just been handed a new toy.

Beside Westcott, his gaze suddenly met Ellen's. Her eyes were darting back and forth between him and Westcott in panic, as if she were waiting for orders to act. But no words were spoken.

...

Not long after, just as the man was about to lower his eyes in despair, Westcott's gaze suddenly shifted upward.

And without thinking much, driven by instinct, he followed Westcott's line of sight.

"!"

There was no time for even his brain to process what he saw before the entire glass wall was painted red, a wet splash of blood and viscera spreading across the surface like a grotesque canvas.

The room trembled violently, equipment rattling and lights flickering as a deafening— sickening crunch reverberated through the room as if a giant leg had slammed into the ground, shaking the very foundation of the facility.

"A-Ah... HA?"

The two remaining workers froze. One collapsed to his knees, while the other stared at the ground, his eyes wide with terror, as if questioning every life choice that had led him to this moment.

Just as the dust began to settle, they heard it—something closing in. The chamber's flickering white lights sputtered and died, plunging the room into complete darkness.

It wasn't long before a weak, eerie blue emergency light flickered to life, casting long, jagged shadows across the blood-streaked walls.

...

Silence filled the space beyond the reinforced glass. The only sound that could be heard was the faint mechanical hum of the emergency blue light.

The staff at the console exchanged uneasy glances, unsure if it was truly over. There had been no screams, no sickening sounds of flesh being torn apart—nothing like what they had imagined.

They weren't even sure if the remaining workers were still alive. The blood coating the glass wall, combined with the weak lighting and the destroyed cameras inside, made it impossible to know...

"T-The suit vitals readings..."

One of the staff suddenly spoke, drawing everyone's attention. The idea had just crossed his mind—the suits the workers were equipped with had a system that tracked their vital signs.

They only needed to check those readings to know if the workers were—

"!"

The entire facility trembled once again, but this time it was from an impact—as if something had exploded inside.

"W-What...?"

The impact had come from deeper within the chamber, likely near the back wall.

Is the spirit trying to escape? But why didn't she attack the glass wall instead? Even though it's reinforced, she'd have a better chance of breaking it...

The confusion among the staff made them momentarily forget about checking if their colleagues were alive. Though slim, there was still a chance the spirit hadn't noticed them... yet.

But that idea was quickly shoved even further to the back of their minds as their eyes took in the impossible...

"Hey, open the door."

The unmistakable white suit—despite the blood-smeared glass, they could still make out the human shape. One of the two workers was tapping on the glass wall, gesturing for them to open the door.

"W- What about the spirit? W-What happened inside? Where's your colleague?"

The worker inside froze, standing completely still for a moment, before answering.

"The spirit... she made a huge hole through the wall and escaped. She took her first chance and just... left. As for him..." the worker gestured weakly toward the corner of the chamber. "He's over there, by the door. He's... not doing well. Traumatized. Shaking. We need to get him out—now."

Their faces were unclear—whether due to the darkness inside or the blood-streaked glass, they couldn't make out the workers' expressions or even their full faces.

Yet, driven by the human instinct to hope for the best in the worst situations, none of them dared to dwell on it too deeply.

They simply exchanged uneasy glances. Some even let out a shaky breath of relief—if the spirit was gone, they were safe, at least for now.

"..."

However, one of the technicians, sharp-eyed and observant, furrowed his brow. Something didn't add up.

Behind the wall where the worker claimed the spirit had broken through, there was nothing but reinforced metal and solid rock—a dead end with no further facilities beyond.

They were deep underground, tens of meters below the surface. Even in her inverse form, the spirit was far from her full power, especially after years of containment.

Breaking through that much material should have been impossible. And even if she could, why go to such lengths? Why not simply blast through the front door?

"Wait... could it be...?"

The technician's eyes narrowed as a sudden thought struck him. He recalled a detail buried in the reports about the Spirit Angel's abilities.

His heart skipped a beat, and his gaze darted to the monitor displaying the workers' suit data. The readings were still coming through—faint but steady.

Too steady. The heartbeat was too slow for someone who had just been on the verge of panic, moments from death.

...

"Activate the erasing protocol."

"!"

Westcott's voice froze everyone in the chamber in place, their attention snapping to him—including the technician, who was still grappling with what was real and what wasn't.

"T-The Protocol?"

"S-Sir?"

The staff's voices wavered, their confusion palpable. To them, the order seemed sudden, unnecessary for the current situation—and they had every right to think so.

The Erasing Protocol was one of many fail-safes put in place in case the spirit ever broke free.

The protocol unleashed a sea of flames, hotter than the surface of the sun, generated by millions of microscopic nozzles embedded throughout the experiment room.

These nozzles, invisible to the naked eye, were designed to saturate the chamber in an inferno so intense that nothing—organic or inorganic—could survive. It was a final solution to an unsolvable problem.

But the spirit had already escaped. The only ones left inside were the two workers—one of whom was still tapping frantically on the glass without altering a word.

Why would Westcott give such an order now?

Among the sea of confused faces, only two seemed to understand the reasoning behind Westcott's command: the technician, who had sensed something was wrong from the beginning, and Ellen, who had been poised to act the moment the order was given.

"I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU!"

The room's confusion suddenly turned to shock as one of the staff members suddenly stood up, his finger jabbing accusingly toward Westcott.

"Hm?"

"Not only did you risk our lives by setting that monster free, but now you dare to give such idiotic orders when we're finally safe? Do you hold a grudge against the very people risking their lives for you? Huh?"

"H-Hey! What are you doing?!"

"Shut up and let me talk!"

One of his colleagues tried to grab his arm and pull him back, but the man simply shoved them away, his eyes locked on Westcott.

"The spirit's already gone! But now you want to kill those who survived your reckless decisions, huh? Is that what you—W-Wha—!"

A sharp crack of a gunshot echoed through the room and the words seemed to die on the man's lips.

The staff around him flinched, scrambling backward as his body crumpled to the ground. Blood pooled beneath him, spreading from the gaping hole in his head, staining the floor in a dark, glistening puddle.

For a moment, the room was frozen in silence, the only sound the faint hiss of smoke curling from the barrel of Westcott's gun.

He stood with one arm casually extended while the other casually in his pocket, the gun still aimed at where the man had been standing moments before.

His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, as if he'd just finished a mundane task rather than ending a life.

"Hm... my shooting skills are still as good as they were 30 years ago, huh? Should I consider joining the Olympics?" Westcott drawled, bringing the gun up to scratch the back of his head with the barrel.

"Oh well, maybe if I get the time... but for now," Westcott's gaze swept over to the remaining staff, who stared back at him with a mix of fear and disbelief.

No one dared to move, let alone speak.

"Anyone else feels like questioning my orders? No? Good."

As his eyes scanned everyone, eventually settling on one individual—one who seemed to be more aware of the situation inside the experiment room than the others. The technician who had noticed something was wrong from the beginning.

"You!" Westcot pointed a finger at him. The technician snapped to attention, his posture stiffening as a bead of sweat trailed down his chin.

"Activate the protocol."

"R-Right away, sir!"

As the technician hurried to carry out Westcott's orders, something caught his attention from behind...

"Hm?"

A chilling, killing instinct prickled at his back. When he turned around, the reason became clear.

It was like something out of a horror movie. The worker, who had been frantically tapping on the glass wall moments earlier—pleading to be let out—had suddenly gone still. Motionless. Not even breathing.

His eyes, now deep black voids without pupils, locked onto Westcott's. They stared with an unnatural intensity, as if peering into his very soul.

"Good thing we don't allow kids here..."

Words out of place were once again slipped out from Westcott's lips, as the terror in the room grew more horrifying. At some point, only Westcott's eyes remained fixed on the scene, not shut or turned away .in fear.

The chilling sound of tearing flesh and crunching bones echoed through the speakers—the very ones Westcott had insisted on installing years ago.

The worker's mouth began to open slowly, unnaturally wide, his jaw stretching far beyond the limits of a normal human. His head and limbs twisted grotesquely as his body seemed to elongate, stretching upward in a horrifying, unnatural transformation.

Then, with a sudden, violent impact, the creature began slamming itself against the glass wall. Each strike sent cracks spiderwebbing across the reinforced surface, the sound reverberating like thunder through the room.

Beside Westcott, who hadn't flinched once, Ellen stood ready, poised to act if the creature managed to break free. But thankfully, it seemed that wouldn't be necessary.

The technician pressed the final key, and the room inside was suddenly bathed in a red and orange hue, erupted in a blaze of flames, roaring to life with a ferocious heat that seemed to warp the air itself.

The fire clung to every surface, devouring the space in a chaotic dance of light and shadow. It was as if the room had become the heart of an inferno, the flames licking hungrily at the walls and ceiling.

The creature let out a guttural, ear-piercing scream—a sound that was neither fully human nor entirely animal. Its twisted body writhed violently, thrashing against the glass as the flames engulfed it.

The black, pupil-less eyes widened in agony, its grotesquely stretched jaw opening even further as if to release another unearthly howl. Its limbs, already contorted, flailed wildly as its flesh began to blister and peel, the fire consuming it from the outside in.

"H-He was still alive... not just a puppet..."

"Hm... a zombie? Didn't know she was capable of something like that... but that's really a painful way to go."

Just as Elen adjusted her pose, watching the once-human form crumble into black ashes, Westcott casually stroked his chin, his expression thoughtful.

"What about the spirit... I can't see her—"

"She's there..."

"Huh?"

Ellen shifted her eyes toward Westcott, as if seeking his clarification for such an assertion. But seeing the expression on his face, she found herself reluctantly forced to accept it without much explanation.

Westcott eventually turned his attention to the staff at the control console, issuing his final orders.

"She's disguised as the other worker—the one who was supposed to be traumatized. She was planning to make you believe she had run away, tricking you into opening the door for her. That way, she could sneak in and take down the real threats: the wizards."

"Over the years, she's learned how things work here. She knew there were plenty of machine wards and strong wizards guarding the place, so she planned to pick them off one by one until she regained her powers and stamina. Long story short—don't open the door until Ellen is there to assist you. Keep the flames at maximum power for the entire day. Eventually, she'll be under control."

Westcott turned away, already making his exit.

"Ellen, prepare the carrier and all necessary procedures. We're transferring this Spirit."

"Transferring—to where?"

A brief silence hung in the air between the question and the answer. Westcott's eyes momentarily drifted over his shoulder toward the reinforced glass wall before he settled them back on Ellen.

"Tengu City, Japan."

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(A/N): Chapters 19, 20, and 21 are available for free in mznovels. com!

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