The balloon rain had become a suffocating blizzard. Red, blue, and silver orbs cascaded in endless sheets, bursting underfoot and releasing fresh clouds of glitter and sweet gas. Daniel Voss carved through the chaos with relentless sweeps of the pipe, fractal etchings blazing violet-white as Pestilence Type 2 turned entire clusters of falling balloons to blackened husks. Vannia moved like a silver ghost at his side, Echo of the Lost flaring brighter with every kill, her knife leaving trails of light as she severed limbs and popped airborne threats before they could hatch.
The chamber floor was now a treacherous sea of rubber and string. Partygoers still poured from every corridor, but their numbers no longer mattered as much as the psychological weight pressing down from above.
Partygoer 0 remained untouched at the exact center of the arena, white suit pristine, microphone resting lightly against its shoulder. Its aristocratic grin widened slowly, deliberately, until the expression seemed to stretch beyond the limits of its face.
It raised its free hand and snapped its fingers once.
The balloon rain parted like theater curtains.
From the darkness above, a dozen severed heads descended on thin, invisible strings—floating down gently, almost gracefully, as though part of some macabre mobile. They rotated slowly in the strobing lights, faces frozen in the same serene, involuntary smiles that had claimed them in the outpost.
Elias. Reyes. Mara. Lin. The three other operatives whose names Daniel had never learned. And at the front of the grisly display, Vannia's parents—still holding hands even in death, their heads turning in perfect sync.
The heads hung at eye level, strings tethered to nothing, bobbing softly amid the falling balloons like obscene party decorations.
Partygoer 0 smiled wider, voice warm and affectionate as it spoke into the microphone.
"Behold the guests of honor. They arrived early, so I prepared them especially for you."
It gestured with the microphone as though presenting a centerpiece.
"Every smile you see was their final expression. No pain. Only joy. They are smiling still—inside the everlasting party. I thought you might like to see them one last time before you join them."
Vannia froze mid-strike. A balloon burst beside her, but she didn't react. Her eyes locked on her parents' heads. The silver shimmer around her knife flickered, then surged violently.
"No…" The word tore out of her, raw and broken.
Partygoer 0 tilted its head, feigning sympathy.
"Does it hurt? Good. Pain is simply the prelude to acceptance. Soon you will understand that this is mercy. No more running. No more loss. Only the party."
Daniel stepped forward, pipe raised in a high guard, body positioned to block Vannia's direct line of sight.
"Psychological warfare," he stated flatly, voice steady despite the horror. "It wants you unbalanced."
Vannia's breathing came in sharp, ragged bursts. Tears cut clean lines through the glitter and ichor on her face, but her grip on the knife tightened until her knuckles whitened.
"They were alive," she whispered. "They were waiting for me."
Partygoer 0 chuckled softly, the sound amplified until it drowned the falling balloons.
"And now they wait for you inside the celebration. Come. Pop one more balloon. Join the family."
The floating heads rotated slowly, their smiles catching the strobing lights in grotesque flashes. One of Elias's eyes seemed to follow Daniel's movement.
The Partygoer ranks surged again, emboldened by the display, claws reaching through the balloon rain.
Daniel activated Blight Aura at maximum radius. Violet haze clashed violently with the multicolored downpour, turning dozens of balloons to ash mid-air.
"Vannia," he said without looking back, voice low and urgent. "He wants you to break. Don't give him the satisfaction. Channel it."
Vannia's silver shimmer exploded outward in a ring of light. Echo of the Lost hit its peak.
She screamed—short, primal, filled with every ounce of grief and rage—and lunged past Daniel straight toward Partygoer 0.
The heads continued to bob gently overhead like grisly lanterns.
The everlasting party had just shown its most personal invitation yet.
And the second movement of the symphony had become something far darker.