The new circular arena we found ourselves in was strange and unsettling.
The floor beneath our feet looked as if it were made of polished black glass, reflecting the pulsing colored lights that emanated from unknown places in the high ceiling.
It gave the place the atmosphere of a nightclub from hell, or an abandoned theater preparing for its final, terrifying performance.
The masked "Dancers of Delight"—including "Samuel," who had once been our teammate and was now nothing more than an empty puppet with a twisted smile—formed a silent, unsettling circle around us.
The blank white eyes of their masks stared at us without expression, like a bloodthirsty audience waiting for a gladiator match to begin.
I glanced quickly at my companions in this dreadful fate.
Maya was still visibly trembling, but she was trying desperately to look brave. Her face was pale as a ghost, and her wide eyes darted between the Lord of Masks and the masked dancers with a terror she could not hide.
Rex, the muscle-bound boy, stood in a tense defensive stance, his muscles swollen and ready.
But even he couldn't hide the flicker of fear and deep confusion in his eyes as he faced an entity whose power clearly surpassed anything he had encountered before.
Well, I thought bitterly, feeling a cold drop of sweat run down my back.
The three of us, with our combined stats not even worthy of being appetizers for an A-rank entity.
Against a mad clown that looks like it crawled straight out of my worst nightmares… and his army of masked puppets that cannot even be harmed.
What wonderful odds for survival.
"I see you have taken in the beauty of my new stage and its dramatic lighting," said the Lord of Masks, his voice flowing like poisoned silk, filled with false cheer.
"This is the Carnival of Stolen Faces in its finest form! But don't worry, my dears—the main performance hasn't begun yet…"
He planted his cane with both hands.
"You… my distinguished and honored guests… have a very special role to play tonight."
"What the hell do you want from us?" Rex shouted, trying to sound brave, but failing miserably when his voice trembled at the end like a string about to snap.
The Lord of Masks smiled wider, revealing two rows of unnaturally sharp white teeth that looked capable of tearing through titanium.
"I want to play, of course! And what is a carnival without games? And without… valuable prizes?"
He gestured toward us with his ornate cane. The ruby set in the eye of the silver raven at its head glimmered with a sinister light.
"You are the prizes… or perhaps the players. It depends entirely on your perspective… and how well you play according to my rules."
Games.
I repeated the word in my mind and felt a faint spark of something like… hope?
No. Not hope.
Perhaps just morbid curiosity or a desperate survival instinct.
This entity loves games. That was mentioned in the gate description after the mutation.
If he's obsessed with games, then there must be rules…
And if there are rules… there are always loopholes.
The skill [Narrative Engineer Blueprint] activated as I ignored the faint headache throbbing at the back of my skull.
Please, you damned system… give me something I can work with. Anything.
The blue panel appeared before me, and the information began flowing rapidly—far more complex and dangerous than anything I had seen in the Annoying Goblin Maze.
[Active Narrative Analysis: Carnival of Stolen Faces (Rank A) – "Carnival Master's Invitation" Phase]
Current Primary Objective:
Survive the Lord of Masks' chosen game.
Alternative Objective (Extremely Dangerous):
Force the Lord of Masks to end the carnival prematurely.
Hidden Conditions / Active Mechanics:
Game Selection:
The Lord of Masks will offer "options" for games, or impose one of his own if the guests show no initiative.
Rules of the Selected Game:
Once a game is chosen, its rules become absolute and binding for all participants—including the Lord of Masks himself.
(Note: The Master may attempt to interpret the rules in misleading ways.)
Dancers of Delight:
They will cease attacking players actively participating in the game.
However, they will immediately attack anyone who refuses to play, attempts obvious cheating, or tries to escape the playing field.
Nature of the Carnival Master:
An extremely powerful entity. Highly intelligent. Obsessed with theatrical display and deception.
He has a pathological devotion to the rules of the games he hosts and considers breaking the "aesthetic" of a game a personal insult.
He hates boredom and stupidity.
[The gate remains completely sealed.]
And that was the end of the list.
Devoted to the rules… pathological loyalty to the rules… hates boredom and stupidity…
Those words caught my attention like neon lights in the dark.
If that's true… that might be a weakness.
"A tiny crack in his shining golden armor."
"We have many delightful and exciting games here in my endless carnival!" the Lord of Masks continued, interrupting the flood of information pouring through my mind like a cursed waterfall.
He presented his "options" with a delighted smile, like a child showing his friends his favorite toys.
"What about the Dancing Guillotine? You must perform a complex ballet on a narrow platform while razor blades swing around your necks! It's quite entertaining to watch… especially when someone stumbles."
Maya visibly shuddered. Rex swallowed hard.
"Or perhaps you would prefer the Puzzle of the Seven Smiling Faces?" the Master continued, his red eyes gleaming maliciously.
"Before you stand seven of these Dancers of Delight, each wearing a smiling mask. Only one mask is the true mask, hiding the key to your survival."
"You must guess which face is mine… or the face of my loyal assistant… before the other masks decide to eat your beautiful faces as a snack!"
"Or even," he added with growing excitement, "the Thousand-Faced Cursed Dice! Each number you roll determines your fate!"
"Will you receive the Curse of Slow Forgetting? Or a Swarm of Flesh-Eating Spiders? Or perhaps The Song of the Sad Clown that makes you want to tear off your own ears?"
"The possibilities are endless… and all of them are incredibly entertaining!"
Maya took a terrified step backward. Rex looked around desperately, searching for anything that could serve as a weapon.
It was obvious they were about to break.
I have to do something, I thought quickly as cold adrenaline surged through my veins.
If we left the choice to him, he would select the most sadistic game possible—and we wouldn't stand a chance.
"Wait!"
The word left my mouth before I fully thought it through.
It rang loudly and clearly across the silent arena.
The Dancers of Delight, who had begun approaching us again, suddenly stopped like puppets whose strings had been cut.
"Hm?"
Even the Lord of Masks tilted his golden head slightly and looked at me with amused curiosity.
Like a large cat watching a mouse squeak at it.
"Oh?" he said in a voice dripping with mockery.
"Does the little mouse trembling in the corner have something to say before the grand show begins?"
"Do you have a final request? Perhaps a sad song performed by the Dancers of Delight over your shattered remains?"
Little mouse? I thought with suppressed irritation.
"You overdressed clown."
But I kept my calm expression.
"I see that you enjoy games, Lord of Masks," I said, trying to make my voice sound confident.
"But those two…" I pointed toward Maya and Rex, who were staring at me in shock and fear as if I had completely lost my mind.
"They're terribly boring. Honestly, they wouldn't be entertaining opponents for you in any of those childish physical games you described."
I swallowed quickly.
I thought I might actually be on the right track.
"Dancing with guillotines? Puzzles about smiling faces? Cursed dice?"
"Those are games for children… or for the annoying goblins we were supposed to fight earlier."
"Oh?"
The Lord of Masks' smile widened slightly.
A spark of genuine interest appeared in his red eyes.
"And what do you suggest, brave boy? Do you have a better game in mind?"
Often in the psychology of the insane, if you want to impress a clown suffering from madness…
You must become mad yourself.
The only way to do that… was to speak nonsense as if it were absolute truth.
"I prefer games that require more than blind luck or meaningless brute strength," I said, taking a small step forward while ignoring the anxious stares burning into my back from Maya and Rex.
"Games that depend on sharp intelligence, refined deception, and reading the intentions of your opponent."
"Games where a single trained mind can defeat an entire army… or even an overconfident carnival master."
I paused to observe his reaction.
The Lord of Masks stared at me silently.
His smile remained, but something in his gaze had changed.
Curiosity.
Amusement.
Then I added with mocking challenge:
"I want something… more exciting."
"Something that requires real skill."
"Something involving cards."
"Do you have a card game in this cheerful carnival… or are all your games just empty circus tricks designed to scare children and beginners?"
Silence fell across the arena.
Then—
"BUKYAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
The Lord of Masks burst into roaring laughter.
That deep, thunderous laugh shook the foundations of this cursed dimension.
A sign that I had caught his interest.
"Cards, you say?! Hahaha! What a fascinating little mouse you are!"
"No one has ever dared, in the entire history of this glorious carnival, to propose the type of game we will play!"
"They're usually too busy screaming, crying, and begging for their pathetic lives!"
The Lord of Masks smiled wider, as if a tiny mouse had just walked willingly into his perfectly prepared trap.
Then his laughter stopped abruptly.
His expression turned frighteningly serious.
"Very well… you have intrigued me."
"You have proven that you possess a measure of courage… so I shall grant your request."
"Because it amuses me."
"Whoosh!"
He raised his black-gloved hand.
A set of dark-backed cards decorated with mask symbols and strange spirals formed from the air between his fingers, glowing with a faint aura of unsettling energy.
"I have the perfect game for you."
"An ancient game from a forgotten time."
He displayed the cards like a magician presenting his tools.
"It is called… Weaving Fate."
He paused before explaining theatrically.
"In this game, boy, we do not merely play with cards… we play with stories."
"Each card is a thread."
"Each turn is a chance to weave your own narrative."
"The objective?"
"To force me to acknowledge that your story is stronger… more convincing… or to trap me in a narrative contradiction from which I cannot escape."
He grinned widely, revealing his sharp fangs.
"But be careful, boy."
"Losing this game does not merely cost you the round…"
"It erases your existence."
"You will become nothing more than trivial dust—a forgotten story carried away by the winds of this endless carnival."
He looked at me again, his eyes sharp.
"Do you still have the courage to play?"
After seeing the glowing cards, my heart began pounding violently.
Weaving stories… forcing the opponent to acknowledge narrative superiority… narrative contradiction…
It's unfair to play a game I just learned against someone who has mastered it.
But it's not as if this shameless clown would listen to my complaints.
I looked at the Lord of Masks.
A cold, mocking smile—the kind worn by someone about to jump off a cliff while laughing—slowly spread across my lips.
"Of course I'll play," I said in a frighteningly calm voice that didn't seem to belong to my sixteen-year-old body.
For a moment, I surprised even myself.
"After all… as you know…"
"I love a good story."
"Especially the ones with unexpected endings."
The Lord of Masks stared at me for a moment.
Then he smiled wider, as if he had finally found a toy worthy of playing with.
"Excellent! Truly excellent!"
"Then let us begin…"
"The Dance of Weaving Fate!"