—It's time…
I slowly raised my gaze.
The smile beneath the mask never faded.
—For you to witness the clown's specialty…
I spun the balloon sword between my fingers with elegance, the plastic creaking softly.
—The swordsman.
The silence grew dense, almost suffocating.
Then I laughed—low and slow—letting the sound bounce off the alley walls.
—I… a mere clown… will defeat you with this.
I raised the balloon sword in front of him, the faint light of a distant streetlamp reflecting off its glossy surface.
—And when you fall…
I tilted my head.
—Your "lord"… will be the first to laugh at you.
His eyes trembled with pure rage, the purple veins pulsing visibly beneath his skin.
—You'll wish you had never called him that.
Pause.
—Come.
The man exploded in fury.
He lunged at me with a distorted roar, the purple veins writhing like living serpents beneath his skin.
I vanished.
Reappeared behind him.
He turned with unnatural speed, his fist slicing through the air with a sharp whistle.
I vanished again.
Appeared above.
His strike hit nothing.
An illusion.
My laughter echoed around him, multiplied, mocking—bouncing off the walls like a broken circus laugh.
—Was that it?
—You… and the previous one…
—Number 15…
—You're not that different.
My voice lowered, almost sympathetic.
—Both… disappointing.
The air shifted.
My aura expanded—heavy, oppressive—like a sheet of lead crushing the chest and stealing breath.
The man trembled.
And then—
It appeared.
A purple eye.
Floating above him.
Crying.
A thick, gleaming tear fell.
And everything changed.
The man's body twisted violently.
His skin turned dark purple, stretching and splitting in places.
The veins vanished, merging into a single pulsating mass.
His face broke apart.
Exposed teeth.
Torn flesh.
Eyes without eyelids.
I whistled.
—Interesting…
I tightened my grip on the balloon sword.
—Now…
—This is getting fun.
He lunged.
I didn't move.
Just one step to the side.
A clean turn.
The sword fell.
Slash.
Silence.
Both arms dropped to the ground with a wet, heavy thud.
His body collapsed.
But—
Another tear fell.
Flesh regenerating.
Twisting.
More grotesque.
—…
My gaze lifted.
The purple eye floated, watching me.
—Ah…
I vanished.
Reappeared in front of it.
But I didn't strike the man.
The sword pierced the eye.
The world trembled for a second.
The eye cracked with a wet, crystalline sound.
And disappeared.
Absolute silence.
—Now then…
I looked down at him.
—You're alone.
I walked toward him slowly.
—Your lord isn't here.
Pause.
—And you…
—Are not on my level.
His body began to deform further.
He screamed.
Roared.
Lost his human shape.
I smiled beneath the mask.
—Good…
I pulled out more deflated balloons.
One.
Two.
Five.
Ten.
I inflated them slowly.
The sound of air filled the space—soft, unsettling.
Shapes formed.
Weapons.
Many weapons.
I let them fall around me.
—Then…
I grabbed another.
—Let's play for real.
The man—or what remained of him—lunged again, a mass of purple flesh and uneven teeth.
This time, I didn't use illusions.
I faced him directly.
The balloon sword clashed against his deformed claws.
The impact echoed.
—Pathetic.
I turned.
Slash.
One leg fell.
He roared.
Regenerated.
Another tear—despite the eye being gone.
—…
—Your lord really gave you a defective gift.
I teleported behind him.
Kick.
His body slammed into the wall.
Concrete cracked.
—Come on…
I raised the sword.
—Show me something worth my time.
The monster screamed.
Lunged again.
Stronger.
More desperate.
More distorted.
I smiled beneath the mask.
—Good…
—Now we're actually playing.