The chamber had become a graveyard of dissolving duplicates. Black-violet tendrils of Pestilence Type 3 snaked across the floor and up the walls, turning every remaining balloon to ash mid-air. The floating heads had already crumbled into gray dust. Daniel Voss stood at the center of the devastation, eyes glowing with the same plague-light that now radiated from every pore. Immune All held absolute. The pipe hovered at his side, fractal etchings blazing like a second sun.
Partygoer 0 — the original, the only one left — clutched its chest as black veins spider-webbed across its pristine white suit. Its aristocratic grin cracked at the edges, but did not vanish.
It straightened slowly.
"So… you've shown your true power," it whispered, voice still warm, still cultured, yet now threaded with something ancient and hungry. "Pestilence Type 3. Plague Sovereign. The Pantheon really does spoil its favorites."
The progenitor's eyes narrowed.
"Then allow me to show you mine."
It moved.
Not with speed. Not with multiplicity.
It simply crossed the distance in one impossible step and drove its gloved fist straight into Daniel's sternum.
The punch was silent.
No impact sound. No shockwave.
Only a clean, surgical erasure.
Daniel's body rocked backward. The pipe clattered to the floor. The violet-black lightning of Pestilence Type 3 flickered once — then half of it snuffed out like a candle. The golden interface in his vision fractured down the middle.
```
[Critical System Disruption]
Partygoer 0 – Narrative Authority Strike
Effect: 50% of all active system privileges temporarily nullified for this battle only
Immune All: Halved (partial anomalous effects now vulnerable)
Pestilence Type 3: Downgraded to Type 2.5 (progression locked)
Chosen Ones System: Power output reduced to 50%
Duration: Until Partygoer 0 is defeated or battle ends
```
Daniel staggered, coughing blood. The radiating plague-light dimmed to a faint glow. The pipe felt heavier in his grip. Immune All still protected him from total erasure, but the crushing weight of gravity, the memetic pull of the party, the balloon rain's hidden toxins — all of them now pressed against him again, half-strength but no longer harmless.
Partygoer 0 lowered its fist, smile widening once more into perfect serenity.
"Half-power," it said, almost gently. "A fair handicap. You are still Chosen-0007. You are still dangerous. But now the symphony can continue without the conductor fearing an early finale."
The remaining Partygoer ranks — those not yet dissolved — surged forward again, emboldened. Balloons resumed their relentless downpour. The floating strings that had held the heads now dangled empty, swaying like nooses.
Vannia, still pinned by three lesser copies, screamed Daniel's name and fought harder, silver aura flaring desperately.
Daniel wiped blood from his mouth and tightened his grip on the pipe. Half his strength was gone, but the other half still burned.
Partygoer 0 spread its arms wide, microphone raised like a toast.
"Come then, half-god," it laughed. "Let us finish this movement the way it was always meant to be — with both of us bleeding."
The progenitor stepped forward again, grin flawless, fist already chambered for the next strike.
The everlasting party had just evened the odds.
And the true conductor was ready to play.