The void rippled.
The Smiling Man took a step back, and though his grin remained, the corners twitched—strained, like a mask refusing to crack.
Jalen's aura flooded the world with color and pressure: gold streaked with violent violet, spiraling with threads of red—a divine rage that didn't burn hot, but cold. Sharp. Unforgiving.
Then… the world laughed.
A soft chime echoed.
And then another.
A chorus of giggles and whispers curled from the cracks in the stone, from the teeth of the dead, from the corners of the chamber itself.
The Smiling Man tilted his head. "Oh?" he whispered, grin rising again. "What's this now…?"
Jalen stepped forward, and the world behind him fractured.
The ground unzipped like a zipper down the spine of reality. Cards scattered upward from the earth—playing cards, thousands of them—before folding into the shape of stairs behind him.
"Ultimate Skill: Joker's Playground," Jalen said quietly, though his voice echoed a hundredfold.
The chamber changed.
The once-bleeding walls were now papered in sketches of eyes and laughing mouths. The torches burned green and upside-down. The floor turned into a checkerboard. The air tasted like static and amusement.
The world had shifted into his mind.
And Jalen? He just smiled.
Not warmly. Not sadly.
Just... free.
"I forgot how fun this place was," he said.
The Smiling Man lunged, claws gleaming.
Jalen vanished mid-stride, reappearing behind him, uppercutting the demon with a boxing glove made of shadows and light.
The Smiling Man reeled back, confused.
"That's not possible," he hissed. "You're not—"
"I'm not thinking anymore," Jalen interrupted, walking forward as a rubber duck exploded beside him with no cause. "I'm not planning. I'm not grieving. I'm not pretending."
His eyes flashed gold.
"I'm letting go."
The Smiling Man screamed and summoned a dozen replicas of himself to swarm Jalen. They surrounded him—laughing, twitching, shrieking.
And then?
They all exploded.
Confetti.
Fireworks.
Nothing remained.
Jalen stood at the center, jacket slightly singed, still smiling.
"Boom."
The battlefield had no center anymore.
Gravity twisted sideways. The sky bled upside-down waterfalls. Doors with no walls slammed open and shut, revealing flickers of childhood memories, street fights, brothel rooms, broken swings, and burning clocks.
Jalen stood in the center—head tilted, gold and violet eyes wide, grin crooked. Around him, nonsense bloomed from thought:
A floating toaster shot fireballs at passing ghosts.
A playground slide curled into a spiral staircase made of swords.
A squeaky tricycle rode itself in circles, cackling in Rhea's voice.
The Smiling Man reformed, rising from the shattered confetti of his clones, now half-transparent. His grin hadn't fully returned.
He twitched—and lunged.
SLASH.
Jalen staggered as claws raked across his chest, leaving glowing black gashes. His aura flared wildly in defense, and a cartoonishly large mallet appeared in his hand in response, which he swung without hesitation.
But it passed through the Smiling Man again.
The blow should have landed. This was his domain. But…
"You're slipping," the Smiling Man sneered, slicing at Jalen's shoulder with fingers like surgical blades. "All this power, and yet your soul is still—confused."
Jalen fell to one knee, blood dripping from his mouth. He coughed—then laughed.
'He's right, you know.'
The wind shifted.
And a voice—not Jalen's spoke through him.
"It's my turn."
The air shrieked.
Jalen's expression changed in an instant.
His pupils dilated, grin widening to match the Smiling Man's in size and intent. His voice came out layered, as if someone else had climbed behind the wheel of his mind.
"Hey there, freakshow." The tone was deeper. More theatrical. Mocking. "Let's play with souls, yeah?"
The Smiling Man flinched.
"Who are you?"
"Jalen. But funnier."A playing card fluttered past with a scribbled face. "You can call me Joker."
The world distorted further.
The air now hung heavy with soul residue, memories screaming in the wind. Joker spun slowly in place, cracking his neck.
"I get it now," he said, more to himself than anyone. "Stix could hurt you. And I couldn't figure out why…"
He stopped spinning and pointed a single finger at the Smiling Man's chest.
"But then I realized—he's dead."
The Smiling Man tilted his head.
"In limbo," Joker said, eyes alight with manic genius. "His body and soul are separated but still tethered. That tether makes him resistant to your rules."
He grinned wider. A dagger formed in his hand—simple, silver, and glowing with the outline of Stix's face.
"So maybe... I need to meet you halfway."
SHHHK.
Without hesitation, Joker plunged the dagger into his own chest.
Jalen's body convulsed.
The aura dropped.
The Playground shattered.
And for a moment—
Jalen died.
The Smiling Man stood still, confused… then grinned wider than ever.
"You fool. You—"
"Hhhghhk—kk—kkkHHAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAA!"
The sound didn't come from him.
It came from the corpse.
Jalen's body snapped upright, eyes wide and glowing brighter than ever—a twisted, divine light pouring from within.
A jagged halo of violet and gold sparked into existence behind him.
Half of his body was transparent, drifting in and out of visibility—a soul dragged back by force.
He was no longer bound by life.
Or death.
Just rage.
Joker's Playground reignited.
Everything inside it howled.
The ground stitched itself into a patchwork of Jalen's past—a dead alley where he found Rhea, a blazing church from someone else's memory, the car from their last night on Earth.
Joker floated forward, no longer needing to walk.
"Guess what, teeth-for-brains…" he whispered as flames danced across his skin, soul energy burning with godlight.
"You made me just like you."
He cracked his neck again.
"But funnier."
Joker hovered midair, his body half-living, half-spectral, his godhood pulsing erratically through exposed soul threads that shimmered like strands of starlight. His golden-violet aura twisted violently into the air, ripping cracks through the illusion of space.
The Smiling Man stood still at first. Then he laughed—a distorted, breathless wheeze.
"You're unstable."
"Of course I am." Joker grinned wider, floating upside-down. "I had to die to figure out how to hit you. I mean, c'mon—that's therapy-level trauma. You think I won't weaponize that?"
The Smiling Man twitched.
Joker surged forward.
This time, he didn't miss.
BANG.
A soul-forged fist slammed into the Smiling Man's gut.
He gasped—actually gasped—as smoke curled from his body, the impact leaving a swirling void where he'd been struck. His smile trembled again.
"You—"
"Surprise!"
Joker grabbed the Smiling Man by the face and threw him through the air, crashing him into the side of a floating stairwell made of broken Everlock rooftops. As the Smiling Man tried to recover, the ground beneath him turned to bubble wrap, popping loudly and launching him skyward like a trampoline from hell.
Joker was already there to meet him, holding a glowing yo-yo made of bone and divine string.
Crack.
He whipped it across the Smiling Man's face, dragging sparks and soul light. Blood—black and spectral—splattered across the air.
The Smiling Man hissed and launched spikes of darkness in response—but Joker's form bent unnaturally, his spine arching backward like a puppet on loose strings. The spikes missed.
He cartwheeled along an invisible path, landed on one hand, and kicked off with godlike force—his heel crashing into the Smiling Man's jaw, sending him tumbling.
"Can't phase through me if I'm not just alive anymore," Joker sang, twirling through the air. "Limbo tis such a weird experience."
Color bled from the air.The sky above shifted between a blood-red sunset, a glittering starfield, and a cheesy painted backdrop of a beach.
Joker grinned."Ohhh, we're doing this now."
Weapons, objects, and absurdities began raining from nowhere—a sword wrapped in police tape,a squeaky hammer the size of a horse,a frying pan still sizzling with eggs,a cannonball made of glass marbles.
Each time Joker caught one, it transformed in his hands into something deadlier—The squeaky hammer became a spiked war mace,The frying pan warped into a molten discus,And the glass marbles merged into a glowing orb of soul energy.
The Smiling Man darted between the chaos, weaving past each strike—but every step he took made the ground under him change: slippery ice, bouncing trampolines, sticky tar.
"This…" Joker laughed, "…is my playground."
The Smiling Man staggered back, his frame twitching, his grin split and dripping black ichor. Joker advanced, each step making the broken world around them warp and twist like it was afraid of him.
"End of the line, clown," Joker said, a spinning molten orb of soul energy in his hand. "Smile for me one last time."
The Smiling Man raised his claws, too slowly.Joker was already there.
Fist.Knee.Elbow.Each blow landed with a crack that shook the distorted air.
The demon dropped to one knee, laughter warping into static. Joker reeled back, ready to drive the orb straight through the Smiling Man's chest—
The air cracked — one fracture, then a thousand — and the Playground screamed.
Every door in the dreamscape slammed shut at once. The green torches snuffed out. The checkerboard floor peeled up like wet paper, and the sky itself folded inward. Laughter cut off mid-breath, leaving only a ringing silence that hurt to hear.
Joker staggered, his grin faltering for the first time. Gold-violet light guttered in his veins like a dying flame.
The collapse hit like a gut punch — their body jerked forward, ribs aching as if the soul itself had been yanked back into a cage. Jalen's vision doubled; blood burst from his nose in a hot line down his lips. His legs went weak.
'Let me finish it,' Joker hissed, his voice jagged with urgency.
"No," Jalen rasped, fighting for breath. "This ends my way. Go back to your playground."
'Not a chance.' Joker's voice was no longer playful — it was steel. "Stay put. You're not in control right now."
Muscles locked. Jalen's fingers curled against his will, the rest of his body freezing in place, eyes still locked on the Smiling Man.
The Smiling Man's twitching grin widened. He didn't run — he bled into the cracks of the stone, sliding out of sight before Jalen could tear himself free.
Jalen roared, breaking free just too late, his aura flaring in frustration.
Far below, in the underground cavern, the Smiling Man emerged from the stone like smoke.
Kullen slammed his sword into the neck joint of a general's armor, sparks flaring as the blade bit through spectral plating.Nathan ducked under a sweeping halberd, panting hard, time magic flickering like a bad connection.
They were losing ground.
The cavern walls dripped with ash and soul residue, the air tasting like copper and rot. Every step back left them closer to the cliff edge.Lucio's undead lay scattered in heaps around them, fading into dust. Kullen's sword arm was streaked red, his left eye half-swollen shut. Nathan's coat was torn, his time-mark cracked and glowing faintly.
Then the stone behind them rippled—like liquid.
And the Smiling Man stepped out, grin too wide, ichor dripping from his jaw.
Neither of them spoke.
In the flicker of torchlight, Zeraphon's generals advanced again, their movements slow and inevitable, the sound of their weapons dragging across the stone echoing like a death sentence.
And Smiling Man's shadow stretched across the floor toward them, fingers twitching.