Yuri dragged her tongue across her teeth, saliva threading down her chin. With a lazy flick of her hand, she wiped it away, her fingers trembling from the thrill.
Sirius didn't turn. His shadow was cast longer than it should, stretching unnaturally across the ledge.
Sirius: "What Harlekin has unleashed…" He narrowed his eyes. "It is not violence. It is madness given form."
Yuri tilted her head, watching the dome ripple.
Yuri (mocking): "And madness isn't violence? Tell me, Sirius, when the stage lights up and the clown starts the show, don't you feel it? That ache in your chest? The urge to dive in?"
Sirius: "No. What I feel is the certainty that every Soul Domain is a scar—a reflection of what cannot heal."
Yuri smirked, her voice turning singsong.
Yuri: "And Harlekin's scar is a circus, abandoned and forgotten. Ohhh, how beautiful."
Sirius finally turned to her. His eyes, calm but heavy, pierced through the playful veneer she wrapped herself in.
Sirius: "You see it as beautiful. I see it as proof."
Yuri: "Proof of what?"
Sirius: "That he is broken beyond repair."
Her grin only widened. She leaned forward, eyes glittering.
Yuri: "Then let him break Arthur Morningstar for us."
The circus lights pulsed again, and they both felt it: two wills colliding within the madness.
Inside.
The sawdust floor of the Circus of Madness shifted beneath Arthur's boots. Every step echoed with children's laughter—high, warped, and endless. Excalibur burned faintly, a candle inside a storm, but the weight of Harlekin's domain pressed against his chest, thickening with every breath.
Arthur slashed through a swarm of floating masks, each shrieking as light scattered their cursed bodies. But for everyone he cut down, three more rose, their painted grins widening.
Arthur: "Your tricks won't break me, Harlekin!"
From atop the rotting Ferris wheel, Harlekin's figure spun like a marionette on invisible strings. His voice was booming through the big top.
Harlekin: "No tricks, Arthur boy! Only the main event!"
The carousel to Arthur's left shuddered. Its skeletal horses snapped their jaws, teeth like broken glass. With a shriek of rust, they leapt from their posts, galloping straight for him.
Arthur spun, Excalibur cutting arcs of light, severing heads from bodies. Bones turned to dust—but the laughter never stopped.
Harlekin's voice echoed from everywhere, overlapping itself, suffocating.
Harlekin (echoes): "Do you hear them, Arthur? The audience loves you! Dance for them, knight! Dance until your light burns out!"
Arthur's eyes blazed, sweat mixing with blood down his cheek. He cut down another wave, panting, shoulder wound screaming in pain.
Arthur: "If this is your audience, then I'll silence them with your blood!"
He charged toward the center ring, Excalibur blazing like dawn. The spotlight above followed him, bathing him in brilliance as he slashed through the curtain of masks.
But Harlekin was waiting. From the Ferris wheel, he leapt, his scythe formed from cursed smoke in his grip, spinning with impossible speed.
Their weapons collided in the spotlight, light and shadow clashing, exploding sawdust into the air.
Harlekin, bleeding but laughing: "Yes! Yes, Arthur! This is what I wanted! The knight who doesn't break—the joke that refuses to end!"
Arthur pushed forward, blade grinding against the scythe.
Arthur: "Then I'll cut the curtain and end the performance!"
Pale hands broke through the ground, each climbing and grabbing onto Arthur.
He tries to shake them off, but a gigantic boxing glove formed from the cursed smoke punches Arthur into a fun house full of mirrors.
The big top shook. The mirrors shattered, releasing dozens of grotesque reflections of Arthur—twisted copies wielding rusted swords. They surged from the funhouse walls, charging him all at once.
Arthur gritted his teeth, knowing he couldn't fight Harlekin and the copies at the same time.
Harlekin's grin widened.
Harlekin: "Arthur boy! Can you feel the thrill of our ballad? Isn't it beautiful? What is a knight's resolve to this true piece of art!"
The circus roared alive. The Ferris wheel turned with screaming corpses, the carousel spun with snapping beasts, the clown masks shrieked, and the reflections advanced.
And in the spotlight, Harlekin lunged with every ounce of chaos the domain could give him.
Arthur raised Excalibur, battered and bloodied but unbroken.
Arthur (furious): "Then come—I'll show you what a knight's resolve truly means!"
Harlekin jumped right into Arthur; his scythe clashed violently with the energy-bursting Excalibur.
Harlekin: "Cursed Strike!"
His scythe slashed at Arthur; dark cursed energy followed it as a trail.
Arthur jumps away, letting the Cursed Strike kill the twisted copies behind Arthur.
He quickly gets up, but Harlekin was already there to meet him.
Each hit, each clash shook the Soul Domain completely, as if two titans of immense power were dedicating their craft for this very moment.
Harlekin's laughter echoed into every corner of the circus while the divine light of Excalibur illuminated every bit of darkness around them.
Twisted mirror images of Arthur rushed to him, but with one "Radiant Strike," they all ceased to exist.
Quickly, Arthur turned back around to face another giant boxing glove, which he cut in half.
From behind, Harlekin reappears to clash with Arthur, but instead he meets Arthur's fist—which was the quicker option—to send Harlekin backwards.
But Harlekin's smile lightened even more when he spit blood out of his mouth.
Quickly he drew a smile on his face with his blood.
Arthur: "You are sick, Harlekin!"
Harlekin: "Tell me how much you enjoy this, Arthur boy! I can smell how much you enjoyed this. From the hunt to the clash up in the sky to this!"
Arthur: "You have completely lost your mind. I would never enjoy this, not one second of this madness."
Harlekin: "Idiot! You are still blinded by your facade of honor and knighthood. It hides your true self, Arthur boy!"
Arthur: "You are far away from saved; the only thing hiding is your weak self, wrapping itself into a cocoon of madness to shield itself."
Harlekin: "I still have to show you that it only needs a little bit of madness to corrupt even the most honorable soul."
Harlekin rushes at Arthur, meeting him again in another giant clash.
The clash lit the circus with brilliance and shadow, the stage set for their final act.