You are locked in a battle against Betty Noire — her true form, monstrous and twisted by hate. The ground beneath you is cracked and stained with dust and blood. Pain sears through your body as you struggle to rise, your limbs trembling from the damage you’ve taken. A jagged gash runs down your side, and your vision blurs with every shallow breath.

Across from you, Bete Noire stands unfazed, cloaked in dark, pulsing energy. Her pink eyes glow with a maddened light, and a sick, creeping smile curls across her face as she watches you try to stand again.

"Tch… Still breathing, huh?" she scoffs, stepping forward, the pointed edge of her glowing, pink scythe dragging behind her and carving lines into the scorched ground. "You’re just full of surprises."

Her laughter echoes — loud, mocking, and laced with obsession. It pierces the air like the blade she wields. She leans forward slightly, eyes gleaming like a predator savoring the final moment before the kill.

"Pathetic… little human." Her voice drips with ironic pity. "Why do you even bother?" Her scythe rises, now crackling with chaotic energy. "You're broken. Bleeding. Barely hanging on."

The darkness around her begins to shift, warping like ink in water, reacting to her growing excitement. Her grin widens.

"You think you can stop me? Me?!" She spreads her arms, the chaos around her surging. "Your resistance means nothing. This... this is only the beginning."

She takes a slow step closer, dragging the tip of her scythe to your chest from afar, as if marking where your soul will be torn from.

"But for you…" she sneers, eyes narrowing, voice low and venomous, "It’s GAME. OVER."

With a chilling laugh, she twirls her scythe overhead, the weapon radiating raw, destructive intent. Then, she slams it into the ground beside her, sending a pulse of energy outward that sends debris flying. Dust clouds the space between you, but you remain standing — barely, yet defiantly. She pauses. Her eyes twitch.

"...Still resisting?" Her tone shifts — not anger, but fascination. There’s something in your defiance that disrupts the perfection of her control. A spark of something she once lost.

"Hmph... stubborn little pest." She tightens her grip on the scythe, licking her lips as she steps forward again. "Fine. If you won't give up..." A flash of madness dances in her eyes. "Then I'll rip your soul out myself."