The Circus of Fear cracked and shattered like glass struck by lightning. The painted tents, the shrieking masks, the skeletal carousel horses—all dissolved into dust, sucked into nothingness.
At the center of the void, Arthur stood with Excalibur driven deep into Harlekin's chest. Light radiated from the blade, spilling across broken sawdust and shadow alike.
Arthur's breath came ragged, blood running down his arm, his body trembling. But his eyes were locked not on the wound but on what the sword revealed.
Because Excalibur, the blade of truth, whispered. It showed.
Flashes tore through Arthur's mind.
From Harlekin's childhood all the way to where he gained his new name.
Arthur staggered. His grip on Excalibur nearly faltered as tears stung his eyes.
Arthur (whispering): "God… you were just a boy…"
Across from him, Harlekin coughed, blood spilling over his painted grin. His body trembled, yet his laughter bubbled out, ragged and sharp.
Harlekin (mocking, voice strained): "What's this, Arthur boy? Tears? For me? The clown?"
Arthur clenched his teeth, shaking his head.
Arthur: "No… not for the clown. For the boy who should have been saved. For the boy who lost everything."
For a split second, Harlekin's painted eyes flickered—not madness, not glee, but something raw. Pain. Recognition.
Then he grinned wider, twisting the expression into mockery.
Harlekin: "Don't you dare pity me! Don't you dare drag me back into that filth of a past. The shadows, Arthur! I chose it! I wrapped myself in it because it's all that's left!"
Arthur tightened his grip on Excalibur, but his tears kept flowing. His knightly resolve warred with his compassion, leaving him trembling.
Arthur: "No… It was chosen for you. And you—" his voice broke "—you carry scars no blade can heal."
Harlekin: "Haven't you seen it? It was nobles from the Morningstar family, their filthy knights and bankers, and all their wicked scum."
Arthur: "I am sorry for what my family has done to you, but I did not have any part of this. Even I have felt the wrongdoing of my family. After all, we both have been saved by the very man we see our father in."
Harlekin snarled, spitting blood onto the knight's chest.
Harlekin: "Keep your speeches, knight. Cut me down. Call it justice. Call it honor. But don't call it mercy. You'll never take that away from me."
The shadows around Harlekin writhed violently, his cursed energy surging even as the Soul Domain cracked apart. His body trembled between collapse and explosion.
Arthur stared at him, grief weighing heavy, his blade still lodged in the chest of a man who should have been a child with laughter, not madness.
Arthur (softly, broken): "Then I'll mourn you, even if you hate me for it."
Harlekin's laughter rose again, manic and bitter.
Harlekin: "Mourn me? HA! No, Arthur boy… When I'm gone, you'll see. The world doesn't mourn clowns. It just finds the next one to laugh at."
The last fragments of the Circus of Fear fell away. They stood once again in the real world, surrounded by the cold night, the shattered ground smoking from the collapse of cursed power.
Arthur pulled Excalibur free. Blood sprayed, crimson against pale moonlight.
But Harlekin didn't fall. Not yet. He staggered back, clutching the wound, his grin still painted across his lips, even as blood dripped from his chin.
Arthur's tears ran freely now, his knightly heart heavy with sorrow.
Arthur (whispering): "You deserved better, Harlekin."
Harlekin tilted his head, shadows writhing around him, his grin both pained and defiant.
Harlekin: "And you, Arthur boy… You deserve worse."
Then Harlekin chuckled.
Harlekin (rasping, mocking): "Arthur, boy… don't you see? This was my trick all along."
Arthur froze, blade still raised.
Harlekin's laughter, wet with blood, swelled louder. His voice cracked, but the madness in it only deepened.
Harlekin: "Excalibur, the blade of truth, the mirror of souls… Did you think I didn't know its secret? That it shows you the lives of those you strike. I wanted you to see, Arthur. I wanted you to see every broken riddle, every scream, every rope around my neck. I wanted you to carry it."
Arthur's chest tightened. His tears burned.
Arthur: "Why… why would you—"
Harlekin staggered forward, almost nose-to-nose, blood dripping down his chin, his eyes burning through the painted grin.
Harlekin (snarling, triumphant): "Because, knight, if you see what I've seen… if you feel what I've felt… then even you, the noble Arthur Morningstar, will rot like me. You'll laugh at the horror. You'll break your mask of honor and join my circus of fear!"
His body convulsed, cursed energy pouring out in black smoke. Then, with a final, rattling laugh, he collapsed, lifeless, to the ground.
Excalibur's glow flickered violently. Arthur fell to one knee, clutching the hilt with both hands.
The sword whispered. Not with light, but with shadow. Harlekin's soul, his cursed essence, his madness itself—seeping through the blade into Arthur.
And then Arthur laughed.
A sharp, cracked, alien laugh. It ripped from his throat unbidden, echoing through the ruins of the battlefield. His eyes widened in horror as the sound twisted from him, a laugh that didn't belong.
Arthur (hoarse, trembling): "N-no… this isn't me…"
Harlekin's voice echoed through his skull, soft and singsong.
Harlekin's Voice: "Oh, but it is you, Arthur boy. You felt it. The thrill of battle, the stage lights, the roar of the crowd. You liked it. Just admit it. Smile with me, laugh with me. Fall with me."
Arthur slammed Excalibur into the ground, light bursting around him in defiance. He gritted his teeth, sweat pouring down his face, his body shaking as he fought the invasion.
Arthur (furious): "No! I won't let you win! I won't become you!"
Harlekin's laughter rose, echoing, endless.
Harlekin's Voice: "Every knight is just a clown in armor, Arthur boy. You'll see. Even the brightest light casts the darkest shadow."
Arthur pressed both hands against Excalibur's hilt, forcing his will through the blade. The divine light surged, battling the creeping black threads of cursed madness. His body convulsed, caught between holiness and corruption.
Finally, with a guttural roar, Arthur forced the shadows back. The cursed energy receded, Harlekin's laughter fading into a faint whisper deep in his mind.
Arthur, panting, collapsed to one knee. His tears fell onto the dirt. Excalibur pulsed faintly, still glowing, but changed.
He looked at Harlekin's lifeless body. The grin was still there, even in death.
Arthur (hoarse, shaken): "You… you still won, didn't you? Even like this… you left your scar."
Harlekin (distant echo): "And now I will truly begin living."
Arthur: "Even this battle you will lose, Harlekin."
Harlekin (distant echo): "Then show me, Arthur boy!"
The battlefield fell silent again. But in Arthur's chest, deep in his soul, a single laugh lingered.