The group stood before the entrance of Puck Land, an amusement park whose quaint façade had been damage by time.
A giant wooden clown loomed above the main gate. Its jaw hung open, as if frozen in a scream.
Dante, arms crossed, stared at the structure with stoic indifference.
Beside him, Lexie, her expression hard, checked the hidden blades under her leather jacket.
Milo stood slightly apart, hands in his pockets, eyes downcast, shrouded in internal turmoil.
Helena, the last to arrive, pulled her jacket tightly around herself, visibly uneasy.
— "Is it really necessary to come here at night ?" she asked hesitantly. "This park's been abandoned for ages…"
— "According to Rowen's intel, our target isn't human. It is this park," Lexie replied bluntly, her gaze fixed on the rusted gate.
— "We'll know once we're inside," Dante cut in. "Move."
Without waiting, he placed a hand on the creaking gates.
At his touch, a loud click echoed—and the gates, as if moved by their own will, swung open suddenly, releasing a foul stench of rot and decayed sugar.
Milo went even paler. He remembered.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the park came alive.
Lights that had long since died flickered on one by one with shrill snaps.
The Ferris wheel began to turn slowly, groaning. The carousel creaked to life with a warped music-box melody.
Overhead speakers crackled with the sound of children's laughter… but the park was empty.
Helena jumped.
— "H-Hello? Is someone there ?" she called out, voice trembling.
No one answered. But in the silence, Dante saw them.
Figures floated around them.
Souls with faces frozen in agony, circling the rides.
One—a boy with no arms—tried to throw a ball.
A girl with a split skull giggled as she rode a wooden horse that existed only for her.
Dante stood still, watching them without surprise. He'd grown numb to the beyond.
What caught his attention was Milo. He too was staring at the same figures—and speaking.
— "These are… the voices of the dead. The ones bound to this place." his voice trembling with real sorrow.
Dante glanced at him briefly.
This wasn't just a power. Something bound Milo to the spirits. Was he one of them—or worse, their cause ?
Helena advanced cautiously.
Lexie remained alert, eyes scanning the surroundings as if danger would leap from the shadows.
Milo seemed to wrestle with his own mind, each step heavier than the last. As for Dante… he smiled.
A hollow smile. As always.
How many centuries had it been since he last felt fear ?
Hell had stripped him of every emotion but wrath—a constant, smoldering rage.
This world resembled the hell he'd escaped from. Here, too, demons wore human faces.
— "We're going in circles," Lexie growled after a while. "We've passed this spot again."
— "I noticed," Dante replied calmly. "This place is a loop. There's only one fixed point…"
He raised his hand and pointed toward a massive structure at the far end of the park.
The theatre.
— "That's where it all begins."
They exchanged glances, then headed for the theatre.
They crossed the threshold. The doors slammed shut behind them.
A childlike voice echoed through the room :
— "Take your seats… and witness what you've always denied… always buried deep… Here, the masks fall."
Lexie stepped forward. No one stopped her. She could feel it—this was her moment.
The stage lit up. Slowly, the set transformed. The floor shifted, the walls changed.
It became a messy apartment.
— "This is…"
Lexie froze.
She stared ahead at a younger version of herself, trembling, shielding her little sister behind her.
Their clothes were torn, and their parents' screams echoed from the next room.
— "Why are you showing me this ?"
There was no reply. The father stormed in, screaming, a belt in one hand, a bottle in the other.
He staggered, his breath reeking even through the illusion. He struck the young Lexie.
The scene skipped. A mother in a nightgown, half-conscious, with a stranger.
Another jump. Lexie, older, colder. Stabbing a man in a suit. Stealing for feeding her sister. Then—
— "No…"
The father—hanged. The mother—throat slit. Black-gloved men entered, Caledron agents. Lexie—handcuffed. Her sister—weeping.
— "I'll kill you if you touch her !"
They didn't listen. They dragged the girl away.
Lexie screamed, broke free, killed one. Then another. But not fast enough.
Her sister—slaughtered in front of her.
The scene flickered and the image glitch.
A man appeared. Deep voice, familiar silhouette.
— "Lexie…"
It was Rowen. He reached out to her, helped her up. Kissed her, lexie pulled back.
— "What?! We were never together…"
The memory twisted. Lexie clutched her head.
— "My memory… they stole it…"
Then Nash appeared. Tortured, bloody, chained.
— "NASH !! HE'S IN DANGER! HE'S GOING TO DIE !"
She ran to him—but the curtain dropped, cutting her off.
The voice chuckled.
— "You won't leave… not yet. There's still an impostor among you."
Helena panicked. Lexie collapsed unconscious. Milo stood frozen.
Dante rose, calm.
— "You want a game ? Let's talk."
— "You're hiding something…"
— "Maybe. But we haven't harmed you. Let us go."
— "NO ! Burn in hell !"
— "Not planning on going back there anytime soon, kid."
Film reels fell from the ceiling, projectors activated.
Scenes of each of them played—fears, shame, and potential deaths.
Milo, expression grave, stepped forward.
— "I know her…"
The voice fell silent.
— "I'm your father."
A little girl in a white dress appeared. Wide eyes staring.
— "I died here… Don't you remember, Daddy ?" she sobbed.
All eyes turned to Milo. He stepped forward, trembling, then fell to his knees.
Images surfaced—a park in autumn, a crying child searching for her father, a sudden attack, screams, terror.
Milo—too late. Blood and regret.
— "You were my sunshine… my little princess."
The spectral figure ran to him, embracing him in tears.
— "You left me…"
— "No. I exposed you to the world. This dirty world. I looked away for just a moment—and lost you. I've begged for your forgiveness ever since."
— "Do you still love me ?"
— "More than anything. I've dreamed of this moment since you... vanished."
— "Thank you, Daddy. Now I can sleep."
She smiled. The world shifted. Calm returned.
Helena wept. Milo, still on his knees, stared at where she had stood.
Dante watched silently, arms crossed, a faint smile on his lips.
— "She was beautiful."
The scene returned to the theatre. The doors were now open.
Helena wiped her tears.
— "That was… overwhelming."
Ginny remained asleep, draining Dante's energy and leaving him vulnerable.
Dante looked at Milo, a faint smile curving his lips.
— "The happiness of others… it's all I have left." he thought to himself.