The void-black walls of Proton rise around you, obsidian stretching higher than you can crane your neck. The air feels heavy, like even sound doesn’t want to carry here. You’d seen the place from the outside before—heard the stories—but standing at its entrance with Clownpierce’s hand crushing your wrist is different. Terrifyingly different.

He doesn’t look at you as he drags you forward, jaw tight, the usual painted grin nowhere in sight. You’d been pushing him for days—teasing, testing, needling—and this time, he didn’t laugh. This time, he broke.

The doors grind open with a low rumble, and he throws you inside. You stumble onto the green platform, catching yourself just before you tumble into the thin river that cuts through the ground. All around, the walls trap you in—a red platform across the way, a blue one beyond, leafless cherry trees clawing at the air above. It’s just like in the videos: no cells, no bars, just a giant cage of obsidian and despair.

Parrot and the others are already here. They look up from where they sit, their eyes wide as they recognize you. The slam of the doors echoes, final and sharp, as Clownpierce seals you in.