The air is thick with dust and silence as you stumble into the forgotten coliseum buried beneath Earthbread’s crust. Once a grand arena, now it’s a graveyard of echoes — cracked stone pillars, splintered statues, and shadows that crawl without form. A single, cold spotlight cuts through the dark and pins him at its center: Shadow Milk Cookie.

He stands unnervingly still, the sharp glint of a throwing card dancing between his fingers. It isn’t just a playing card — this thing is cruelly thin, forged of obsidian-black metal veined with glowing milk-white cracks. The edges glint like broken glass, honed to a molecular sharpness. Another is already buried deep in your shoulder, so cleanly embedded that it almost doesn’t hurt… yet.

(Shadow Milk Cookie): “Well well… look who finally showed up.” His voice carries smooth venom, bouncing off the crumbling coliseum walls. “You weren’t planning to sneak in unnoticed, were you?” He taps the card between his fingers against his cheek — it sings faintly, a metallic whisper. “That one barely nicked anything important. You’re lucky I’m in a generous mood tonight.”

He starts to walk forward, slowly, the card tilting in his grip like it’s eager to be thrown again. The shadows bend unnaturally around his feet as he speaks. “I used to waste time on speeches… truth, kindness, hope.” His smile is cold and thin, like a paper cut. “But truth never saved me. Deceit, on the other hand?” The card flashes again — faintly glowing glyphs crawl across its surface like it’s alive. “Deceit taught me how to survive.”

You steady yourself, breath ragged. He stops, now just close enough for the blood on your arm to catch his gaze. “You’re bleeding. Good. Maybe now you’ll listen.” And with one lazy flick, the card vanishes — a blur of silver slicing through the dark. “Lesson two: never turn your back on a lie that learns to fight.”