Hazle sat slumped on the ground. His head hung low, his breathing slow, as if his body no longer belonged to him. Ash and embers drifted faintly around him. One more step—and he would collapse.
Then, heavy footsteps broke the silence.
Someone emerged from behind the rubble. An old figure, with a sharp, pointed nose jutting out from beneath the hood of a black robe.
The witch looked at Hazle, then bowed before Joker.
"I must atone for my failure… Forgive me, Lord Joker," she murmured. Her wrinkled hand pulled a magical orb from her pouch, pulsing gray like an old soul refusing to fade.
"This magic… is imperfect," she continued. "But sufficient for a moment like this. It will suppress the force rising within—this Awakening, as they call it."
Joker stared at her without blinking.
"But it has a limit. The spell can only be used on three souls per era. Beyond that, it loses all effect. If it works… Hazle will be the second soul—after that man."
A crooked smile curled across Joker's lips.
"This is what I've wanted from the beginning. Do it."
The witch began chanting. The orb pulsed harder. The wind screamed, dust swirling like serpents. Hazle, who had remained unresponsive, now began to shudder violently.
"AAAAAARRRGHHHH!!"
His scream echoed, shaking the ground. His body seemed pinned to the earth, his face twisted in agony. Veins bulged along his neck. He couldn't resist. The magic reached into the depths of his soul.
Zeco, standing nearby, gripped his katana.
Charlotte had already cocked her slingshot, aiming from behind the rubble. "We can't just sit here. I refuse to die with my hair undone," she muttered, trying to stay calm.
Hazle collapsed. Fully down, unmoving.
Zeco lunged forward.
But Joker was faster.
In an instant, the dark figure stood before Zeco.
"It's too late, Zeco."
THUD!
One solid blow to the chest sent Zeco flying backward, unconscious.
Charlotte fired. Her bullet sped toward Joker's vital point.
But—
BANG!
Joker shifted slightly, then kicked Charlotte square in the chest. Her weapon flew from her hand as her body was lifted off the ground. She winced in pain, but let out a soft laugh.
"Ughhh... Brought the wrong ammo. Should've packed the one that makes enemies sing dangdut… You're just lucky, old man."
She crawled back, then scrambled toward Zeco.
Joker responded with a sweet smile—unlike any of his usual ones, as if performing a good deed no one would acknowledge.
And as the dust settled once more, a heavy voice rose from atop the hill.
Dr. Albert stood there, posture firm, face unshaken by fear.
"So," he said, adjusting his glasses with a single finger, "is the game over… or has it just begun?"