The Marshal left them with a warning and disappeared into the gray smoke. Jin slipped away too, silent as a memory. And suddenly— Alex and Mei Lin were alone again. The alley felt wider without the soldier’s presence. Wider… and watched. A cold wind pushed between the broken buildings, carrying the faint smells of burnt rubber, wet stone, and something else—something metallic and bitter that Alex recognized too well. Fear. Real fear. The kind that spreads faster than infection. “Let’s move,” Alex said. Mei Lin nodded. She didn’t argue—not this time. The adrenaline from the confrontation with the Marshal had faded, leaving behind a sharp tension in her jaw. They walked toward the Old Arcade, passing damaged storefronts and burnt-out vehicles. The city looked like it had been bitten. Hard. Every step echoed through the empty street. The world was too quiet. No birds. No engines. No children. Just the distant, broken sirens and the occasional scream too far away to sa

Night dropped over the Old Arcade like a curtain soaked in ink. No moon. No stars. Only the faint glow of dying streetlights and the cold hum of the Soul Lock anchored inside Alex’s coat. The market had changed. The stalls were the same. The people were the same. But the air— The air was wrong. It murmured. It watched. It waited. Mei Lin felt it first. She stepped closer to Alex, keeping her hand on the bronze bell, holding it like a heartbeat she didn’t trust to stay steady. “Alex… the Stage is waking up.” “Yeah,” he murmured. “I hear it.” A soft tapping rose from the wooden planks beneath their feet. Then another. And another. Tap. Tap. Tap. Not footsteps— Applause. Slow. Mocking. Hungry. Figures emerged from the darkness like actors stepping onto a set. Not humans. Masks. White porcelain faces floating atop bodies woven from fog. Their arms were too long. Their fingers too thin. Their heads tilted in unnatural angles, as if to study the two intruders

The remains of the Story Thief were still drifting through the air—burned scraps of words, memories, and the faint smell of smoke. But the Hollow Stage did not rest. The Judges did not rest. Their porcelain masks tilted all at once, as if sniffing something new. Then— C R A C K The stage lights—lights that hadn’t existed a second ago—snapped on, bright and white, slashing down from above like interrogation beams. Alex flinched hard, shielding his eyes. Mei Lin blinked rapidly, trying to see through the glare. The Herald’s voice echoed around them, louder than before: “First Act: Complete. Second Act: Begin.” The wooden floor beneath their feet shifted—no, dissolved—melting into swirling ink, then solidifying into something else. A street. A familiar one. Too familiar. Alex froze. His lungs locked. “No…” he whispered. They were standing in the ruins of a battlefield he knew far too well. Mei Lin looked around, confused. “Where are we? This isn’t the Arcade—” Alex

The monster rose from the darkness like someone had torn open the world. It wasn’t one thing. It wasn’t even a creature. It was their nightmares fused— stitched together by the Judges like a sick joke. Half its body was a soldier’s silhouette, armor dripping shadows, boots crushing invisible bones. The other half— A man’s hand clutching a belt. The smell of cigarettes. A broken piggy bank fused into its ribs. Truck headlights burning where eyes should be. Alex staggered. “Mei… that thing…” “…is both of us,” she whispered. The monster screamed. Not one voice. Not two. A chorus of every memory they wanted to forget. “YOU COULDN’T SAVE ANYONE.” “YOU WERE NEVER WANTED.” “YOU LEFT THEM TO DIE.” “YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED HERE.” Mei Lin clapped the bronze bell against her palm, shaking. “They’re using our guilt as weapons.” Alex stepped forward, the golden cracks crawling further up his arm. “Fine,” he growled. “Then we hit back harder.” --

They fell. Not down— but through. Light twisted, darkness bent, their bodies spun in a spiral that felt like drowning inside a heartbeat. Then— THUMP. Alex hit solid ground. A second body crashed against him— Mei Lin. Both gasped at the same time, like two lungs sharing one breath. They were back. The arcade’s storage room. The candles still burning. The faint scent of smoke and old wood. But nothing felt the same. Not the room. Not their bodies. Not the air. The Pact glowed faintly between them, a thin line of gold and bronze light still connecting chest to chest before it faded into the skin. Mei Lin staggered back, hand clutched over her heart. Alex grabbed his right shoulder— because the burn had changed. It wasn’t on his hand anymore. It ran from fingertips to collarbone like molten cracks in metal, pulsing with each heartbeat. Golden fire. Alive. Hungrier. Mei Lin tried to inhale— failed— and collapsed onto her knees. “Alex…” she gasped. “I can’t—