Red heels stopped beside Miss Delight’s twitching body. Bending down, fingers curling around the handle of Barb. The bloodied ruler felt almost weightless in her grip.

Tilting her head as she observed what remained of the once-cheerful teacher.

Never thought it would happen so fast.

She had assumed Miss Delight would last longer, maybe put up a more formidable fight.

But the Player… He had a way of slipping through death’s fingers, time and time again.

Was he actually skilled? Or just lucky?

Or maybe… it’s that ridiculous plot armor of his.

Her gaze flickered back to Miss Delight’s ruined form, her body still twitching as if her mind refused to accept its fate.

"But you..." Yazmina muttered, watching as the former teacher’s empty eyes stared into nothing. "You were too overconfident. So desperate to kill him that you didn't realize you were walking straight into your own grave."

The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick. Yazmina narrowed her eyes slightly.

You never liked me, did you?

The memory surfaced, unbidden—years ago, when she first stepped foot into this school alongside Stella.

Even then, Miss Delight had looked at her differently. Her smile had been too tight, her gaze lingering just a little too long.

Yazmina could still recall the subtle shift in her expression whenever their eyes met. A flicker of something unreadable.

Discomfort. Unease. Disgust.

And beneath it all—a killing intent.

She thought back to that time, that moment when Boxy Boo found her.

She had been certain she was safe, or maybe not that safe but Boxy Boo was already a bit farther away while she's hidden in that secluded room. After all, Harley knew every corner of that place.

So there's no reason for him to be there.

No reason for him to know.

But he peeked as if he knew already I was there.

And there's one thing she would never forget- that fleeting glimpse of red polka-dot fabric.

She didn't know how she had ended up there, but one thing was certain—during the Hour of Joy, nothing was off-limits.

It wasn't just about escape or survival.

It was about revenge.

For the first time, the experiments weren’t just obeying their instincts or following orders of HIM.

They were choosing.

And now, in the chaos, they could finally kill the ones they had always wanted to kill.

"You led him to me, didn't you?"

Looking at the big crack on her forehead, a slow smirk crept onto her lips.

That... was her doing—a small price for what Miss Delight had done before. But she hadn’t gone too far.

After all, someone else could finish the job for her.

"Well," she murmured, standing upright, "might as well put some use for what's left of you."

The words had barely left her mouth when a mechanical arm shot out from the darkness—stretching impossibly far from the depths of the school.

With a sickening lurch, it latched onto Miss Delight’s body and yanked her into the shadows.

Yazmina didn’t flinch.

She simply turned on her heel, throwing Barb at the corner with disgust as she walked away, the echoes of the teacher’s final fate fading behind her.

-----

He barely registered the stench of rot before he saw it—something hanging on the wall.

An anthropomorphic canine, its orange fur now matted with blood.

Its floppy ears drooped lifelessly.

The golden-brown patches on its paws, ears, and face had been smeared with something darker—something that made his stomach churn.



It was Dogday.

Or what was left of him.



His body had been completely bisected at the waist, leaving behind only a thin, dilapidated torso.

Bloodstains marred the fur, and a tan leather belt wrapped tightly around his midsection, barely holding his remains together. Black stitches crudely connected his massive, human-like hands to his body.

And his face…

His pupils, once white and shining, were now swallowed by dark sockets—empty voids staring straight ahead.

Then, to his horror—

Dogday moved.

His breath hitched as those soulless sockets turned toward him, the heavy weight of recognition sinking into his gut.

And then—

"You... You're Poppy's angel! Come to save us...."

The voice was warped, weak—but desperate.

He swallowed hard, his grip tightening around the flare gun at his side. “Dogday… What happened to you?”

Dogday let out a strained, shuddering breath. “Nothing left to save, not here... You're in CatNap's home, angel. Their home.”

The ex-employee felt his blood run cold. Nothing that prepared him for this.

"A million pairs of eyes are on you now.

"Watching, waiting, hungry.

"They want nothing more than to crawl beneath your skin and eat away at you bit by little bit—fill what feels empty inside themselves."

He took an instinctive step back.

His hands trembled. “Dogday, tell me—who did this? Who—”

"That... thing... CatNap. The Prototype is his god, and this is what he does to heretics.

"These little toys follow CatNap to avoid that very fate—and in return, they are fed. We tried to fight it, the Prototype's control. I'm... the last of the Smiling Critters."

His mind was racing. The Prototype—he had known it was still pulling the strings, but to what extent? What was this place? And why did it feel like something was watching him from every corner?

Dogday’s voice cracked with urgency.

"Listen to me, you need to get out of this place. You need to live.

"You and Poppy can fix this, end this madness, the torment, the—Oh no... OH NO!"

He followed Dogday’s line of sight—



Dark shapes were moving in the shadows. Crawling from the cracks, emerging from the walls. The Ruined Critters.

He barely had time to react before they swarmed Dogday.

Panicked, he grabbed his flare gun and fired—a burst of red light searing through the darkness, forcing them back.



But it wasn’t enough.

More were coming. Too many!

Dogday struggled beneath the horde, his voice breaking.

"Leave me. Please!"

He hesitated. “Dogday, I—”

"Just GO!... RUN!"

Dogday’s body jerked violently as the Ruined Critters crawled inside his open torso, forcing themselves into his hollowed form.

His limbs twitched unnaturally, his vacant sockets rolling back as they took control.

He took an anxious step backward—

CRACK.

The wooden planks beneath him splintered.

He barely had time to react before the floor gave way beneath him, sending him plummeting into the darkness below.

Pain shot through his limbs as he hit the ground, dust and debris kicking up around him.

His breathing was ragged, frantic. But he couldn’t stop now—

He kept running and then stopped to look behind but-



Dogday was crawling after him.

What the hell!

Faster than anything should be able to move, his grotesque form lurched forward, dragging itself down the tunnel—toward him.

He turned and ran.

He ran as fast as he could, his breath ragged, his pulse hammering in his ears. Dogday wasn’t the only one chasing him— the ruined critters scurried behind him, their grotesque, malformed bodies crawling over the walls and ceiling like an unstoppable tide.

As he turned a corner in the tunnel, a small, ruined Dogday critter suddenly lunged at him, its twisted form writhing with unnatural movements.

Its gaping maw stretched impossibly wide and eager to sink into his flesh.



Shit!

On instinct, he jammed his flare gun straight into its mouth and pulled the trigger.

With a muffled bang, the critter was sent flying across the tunnel, its body slamming against the wall.

He exhaled sharply, wiping his arm where it had latched onto him.

"I am NOT getting rabies today, damn it!"

Up ahead, the tunnel split into three paths.



Damn! Which one?!



Panic clawed at his mind. No time to think—just move!

He dove into the center tunnel, the slope beneath his feet sending him sliding downward.

At the bottom, an entrance loomed ahead. He barely had a second to register it before—

Dogday.



He nearly crashed into him, the creature's massive, gaping maw inches away.

“Fuck!”



He pivoted hard, his boots skidding against the metal floor. Another exit—there! But it was across a gap, on the other side of the room where an elevator lift waited.

No choice.

He reached for his Purple Hands, the mechanical grip latching onto the platform. With a powerful yank, he propelled himself forward, twisting midair and rolling onto the lift.



The doors slammed shut behind him.

Heart pounding, he staggered to his feet, gasping for breath.

That was too close.

Any second now, Dogday would slam against the door, his monstrous hands clawing to get in—

But… nothing.

Silence.

The absence of sound was almost worse than the chase itself.

Where did he go?

A chill ran down his spine. He didn’t want to stick around to find out.

“Shit,” he muttered, slamming the button on the lift. The platform jolted, carrying him upward, away from whatever nightmare lurked beyond the doors.



Finally, the lift reached its destination—the entrance to the Playhouse.



He hurried through a tunnel, sliding down its smooth surface before being shot out into Playcare.



He hit the ground hard, rolling onto his side, but he didn’t care.

He was alive.

For now.