Y/N staggered through the blood-slick corridors of the abandoned Green Hill Zone amusement park, every breath ragged and heart hammering in their chest. Neon lights flickered overhead, casting jagged shadows of twisted carnival rides that groaned in the stale air. Clutched in their trembling hand was the cracked mirror—once a trophy from the midway game—that glowed faintly with the souls Bratwurst had stolen. Each step felt impossible, the ground slick with crimson, but Y/N forced themselves onward: the only way out lay beyond the towering silhouette of Sonic.EXE, his eyes oozing ink-black malice.

From the depths of the funhouse, a warped laughter echoed—Bratwurst’s voice, rich with sadistic glee. The monster emerged, half-Sonic, half-writhing mass of tendrils and razor-sharp grins, his form shifting as he absorbed unstable energies. Y/N raised the mirror, its surface rippling as the souls within cried out in an anguished chorus. “You can’t hide,” Bratwurst hissed, advancing on impossibly long legs. Desperate, Y/N angled the mirror toward him; the spectral faces surged forward, battering at his shadowed form. For a heartbeat, the horror of Bratwurst’s true face—Sonic’s innocence twisted beyond recognition—flickered in agony.

When the mirror shattered, shards spiraled into the air, each carrying a fragment of trapped hope. Bratwurst recoiled, taloned hands pressed to his distorted visage as the stolen souls clawed their way free. Y/N seized the moment, sprinting past the monstrous echo of his roar and diving through the warped exit doors. Outside, dawn’s pale light bleached the wreckage of the park, and for the first time since the nightmare began, Y/N felt their chest loosen. Yet, in the distance, beneath the rusted sign that read “WELCOME HOME!”, two crimson dots glowed—and a low, guttural chuckle whispered on the wind.