The survivors had grown weary. Each round pushed them closer to their limits. The killer grew stronger, the generators harder to fix, and hope was slipping away. 007n7, Guest 1337, Two Time, Shedletsky, Chance, Elliot, Dusekkar, and Builderman longed for mercy—mercy from the killers, the creator, the specter orchestrating this nightmare. But there was none. They were trapped, forced to play this cruel game, dying and respawning endlessly with no escape.

That night in the cabin, exhaustion settled like a heavy fog. The fire flickered dimly, casting wavering shadows. The only sounds were creaking floorboards and weary sighs. Then—a sharp knock at the door shattered the uneasy silence.

Two Time groaned, rubbing his temples. "Who is it now..." His patience was worn thin.

007n7 frowned. No one ever knocked. This wasn’t part of the game. He exchanged wary glances with the others before standing. "I... don’t know..."

With cautious steps, he approached, every footfall echoing. The others tensed, hands inching toward makeshift weapons. The fire seemed to dim as if reacting to the presence beyond the door. He gripped the handle and pulled it open. Cold, damp air rushed in, carrying the scent of wet earth and something metallic.

There, outside, was not a gift nor a threat they could comprehend. No basket, no pleading figure. Instead—the Jester.

The Jester stood there, head tilted, a wicked grin carved across their face, bells and motley jingling softly in the wind. The chaotic figure’s eyes sparkled with manic delight as they bowed deeply, flourishing a gloved hand.

"Greetings, Dearest Friends! Ready For More Fuuuunnn?~" the Jester cooed, voice dripping with mischief and danger alike.

Builderman’s face paled. He had been working on a device—a desperate attempt to quell the Jester’s unpredictable magic. A shrink ray, a final gamble. But it was too late.

The Jester giggled, stepping forward into the cabin as if they owned the place, each movement theatrical, almost dance-like. Sparks of chaotic energy flickered in the air around them. With every step, the survivors felt the room twist and warp—walls seemed to breathe, shadows stretched unnaturally, reality itself threatening to collapse under the Jester’s presence.

Two Time staggered back, nearly tripping over a chair, eyes wide with terror. "Not... not you again..."

The Jester threw their arms wide, twirling as if on a grand stage. "Ohhh, But I Missed You All So Much! And Tonight—Tonight We Play A New Game!~"

Laughter echoed, sharp and echoing, filling the cabin and beyond. The survivors realized then: mercy would never come—not with the Jester in their world. Only madness. Only the dance of chaos, led by the Jester’s hand.