The city was empty.
Shattered storefronts lined the streets, glass crunching beneath our boots as they advanced through Kurayama's commercial district. Neon signs flickered erratically, their colors bleeding across puddles of rainwater mixed with blood.
Too much blood.
Akira tightened his grip on the urumi's hilt.
The city was too quiet.
Ren rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck.
"Man… I don't like this kind of silence."
Kaito swept his scanner in a slow arc, eyes sharp behind his lenses.
"Stay alert. Nightmare manifestations don't go silent without a reason."
The Misoke twins moved like anchors at the rear, heavy footsteps measured, controlled. Ayla stayed light, daggers reversed in her grip, eyes never still.
Then—
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
The sound echoed from nowhere.
And everywhere.
A figure appeared atop a traffic light pole, balanced impossibly on one foot.
The clown.
Its body bent like a marionette with severed strings. Skin unnaturally pale, almost translucent. Its costume was a patchwork of faded reds, purples, and sickly yellows—stitched together from discarded nightmares.
Shoes too large. Toes curling upward.
And its smile—
Painted wide. Split far past its cheeks. Jagged teeth gleaming wetly beneath cracked lips that trembled as if the skin itself might tear.
Its eyes were mismatched.
One spun in a slow spiral.
The other was cold.
Fixed directly on Akira.
"Ohhh~!" the clown sang, voice high and playful.
"Visitors~! How delightful!"
Ren snorted.
"That's it? I expected scarier."
The clown tilted its head.
And vanished.
Akira's instincts screamed.
The air collapsed.
BOOM!!
A massive fist slammed down from nowhere, pulverizing the street where they'd stood moments ago. The shockwave hurled them backward like discarded dolls.
Another fist followed.
Then another.
From everywhere.
"Incoming—!" Ayla shouted, barely rolling aside as a gloved hand cratered the asphalt inches from her head.
Ren leapt forward on instinct—
—and was swatted midair.
His body smashed through a storefront, steel shutters screaming as they buckled inward. He skidded across concrete and didn't move.
"Ren!" Akira shouted.
More fists rained down.
They struck without warning—walls, ground, rooftops—each blow precise, brutal. Laughter echoed through the city like music set to slaughter.
"HAHAHAHA~!"
"Missed~! Missed~! Too slow~!"
Akira clenched his teeth.
"We can't do anything until we find it," he muttered.
"Damn it."
Kaito slid behind an overturned vehicle, scanner screaming with unstable readings.
"ME concentration is spiking east," he said sharply.
"That's where he will be."
Akira nodded.
"Then we move."
They ran.
Through shattered streets.
Past abandoned cars.
Toward the far end of the district.
The fists followed.
Each strike shattered pavement. Bent steel. Crushed bone.
Ren and his shield took the brunt—blocking, redirecting, absorbing impacts that cratered the road beneath them. Even he staggered under the relentless assault.
Ayla was clipped mid-dodge, sent rolling. Blood streaked from her shoulder.
Akira lashed the urumi upward, steel ribbons screaming as they deflected a descending blow.
Pain flared through his arms.
They reached the location.
An empty intersection.
Kaito checked his scanner again.
"…This is it," he said.
"Highest concentration."
No clown.
Silence.
Then—
BOOM!!
The ground exploded.
Dozens of fists erupted at once, slamming Ren straight into a storefront. Glass detonated outward like shrapnel.
"REN—!!"
BOOM!! BOOM!! BOOM!!
Akira barely raised his weapon before a blow smashed into his ribs, hurling him across the street. He rolled hard, breath ripped from his lungs.
Ayla was struck mid-step, crashing through a traffic sign. Blood splattered the pavement.
The Misoke twins crossed their arms to block—
—and were driven to their knees, concrete collapsing beneath them.
The clown's voice rang out, cheerful and distorted.
"Wrong place~!"
"Wrong guess~!"
"Hahaha~!"
Another fist descended.
Kaito tried to dodge.
Too slow.
The blow crushed him into the ground. Asphalt fractured like glass as his scanner skidded away, sparking violently.
Pain flooded his body.
They couldn't see it.
Couldn't track it.
Couldn't fight it.
They were being toyed with.
Ren staggered upright, blood pouring down his face.
"Where—" he coughed, "—where the hell are you?!"
Laughter echoed from every direction.
"So eager~!"
"So helpless~!"
Akira forced himself to his knees.
This wasn't a fight.
It was an execution.
High above—
Akirawa watched from a rooftop, eyes sharp, unreadable.
"…Messy," he muttered.
Another fist slammed the Misoke twins into rubble.
Akirawa tilted his head slightly.
"Should I intervene…?"
He watched Ren fall again.
Watched Akira struggle to stand.
Watched Kaito bleed silently, staring at the ruined street.
"…Nah."
Below, the clown laughed louder.
END OF CHAPTER 12