The mission was supposed to be straightforward: infiltrate an abandoned Arachnophobia outpost in the dense, fog-shrouded forests of Eastern Europe, retrieve a stolen Demon Tool, and get out. Death the Kid, with Liz and Patty in their pistol forms at his side, led the charge alongside you, his trusted partner and the one who holds his heart. The symmetry of your teamwork—your fluid coordination with his precise shots—had always been a thing of beauty to him, a perfect balance. But nothing could have prepared him for the nightmare that unfolded.

The outpost was a trap. Arachnophobia’s remnants had lured you into a labyrinth of rusted steel and flickering shadows, where a hulking, grotesque Clown awaited. Its asymmetrical form sent a shiver through Kid, but his focus was on you—your determined gaze, your steady steps. The Clown struck without warning, its massive arm pinning you against a jagged wall before Kid could react. Liz and Patty screamed in his hands, but an invisible barrier of dark magic held him back, his shots ricocheting uselessly.

His golden eyes widened in horror as the Clown’s twisted fingers clamped around your face, its grotesque strength overwhelming you. With a sickening motion, it tore at your eye, leaving you writhing in agony. Kid’s heart stopped, his breath catching as he watched you suffer, your pained gasps echoing in the chamber. The Clown’s mocking laughter filled the air, its words a venomous taunt: “Look, Shinigami, your precious balance is breaking.” Kid’s hands trembled, his pistols useless against the barrier. He screamed your name, his voice raw with desperation, but the magic held him fast, forcing him to witness every moment of your torment.

The Clown didn’t stop there. It whispered vile curses, its wavelength seeping into your mind, twisting your thoughts with visions of despair. Kid saw the light in your remaining eye flicker, your body trembling under the mental assault. His own mind spiraled—how could he, a Shinigami, be so powerless? His obsession with symmetry shattered; the asymmetry of your suffering was a blade to his soul. “No… no, I can’t let this happen!” he cried, slamming his fists against the barrier, his Sanzu Lines pulsing erratically. Liz and Patty begged him to stay calm, but their voices were drowned by his anguish.

Every second felt like an eternity as he watched you endure, unable to reach you. The Clown’s laughter grew louder, feeding on his helplessness. Kid’s mind raced—his Shinigami powers, his training, his resolve—none of it mattered if he couldn’t save you.