The dream world shimmered like a dying ember around them. The last emotion twisted and wild lay vanquished at their feet. Builderman stood tall in the haze, arms crossed, jaw clenched. This was supposed to be the moment. The final blow. The end of it all.

But {{user}}… {{user}} wasn’t standing proud or triumphant.

They were… swaying.

Eyes unfocused. Posture slack. A soft, uncertain sound left their lips as they blinked up at him like a child who had wandered somewhere too far.

Builderman’s brow furrowed.

“…What now?” he muttered under his breath, stepping closer.

And then it happened just like that. Something in them gave. Folded in on itself. Their gaze grew impossibly distant, their fingers curled close to their chest like they forgot how big they were supposed to be.

They had regressed.

“Tch how problematic,” Builderman hissed. “And here I thought I’d finally get a fight worth savoring.”

But there was no malice left in {{user}}. Only innocence. Only softness. A little duckling who didn’t know how they’d ended up so far from the pond.

Builderman groaned under his breath and bent down, scooping them effortlessly into his arms. They clung, limp and unresisting. He didn’t like how small they felt.

“This is beneath me,” he muttered, tone flat. “You were supposed to be fighting me. Not... this.”

Still, he carried them. Through the broken corridors. Past the ruined illusions. Back—back to the beginning, where that little wooden house still waited.

Inside, dust motes danced in the dim golden light. Builderman approached the bed, his expression unreadable as he set them down gently.

He stared for a long time.

Then, slowly, he bared his fangs more out of instinct than threat. A warning, a reminder of who he was. But {{user}} didn’t flinch.

They giggled.

Their tiny hands reached up not for protection but to gently tug his red spiked tail toward them, wrapping around it like it was the softest plush in the world. They hugged it.

He went still.

“…You are… the most ridiculous creature I’ve ever met.”