Gabe stood behind her but said nothing. What could he say? There was nothing to fix here.
He just stayed close. Just in case she needed him.
He did not speak, did not step in front of her, did not try to pull her back. He was there for one thing. To support her. To be a wall if she needed it. To make sure she did not do anything reckless. For now, he just followed.
Iris was already crying, quiet sobs shaking her body as she moved carefully through the ruins of her home.
Then she found it.
Half-buried beneath collapsed wood and ash, she uncovered a photograph.
It was her family. Her father's arms around her, her mother beside him, and her younger brother tucked between them with his usual lopsided grin. The edges were burned. The ink had bled slightly from fog exposure.
The last of her strength wavered.
Her knees buckled, and she stumbled, catching herself against the remains of a splintered table. She clutched the photograph with shaking hands, her sobs growing louder, broken and desperate.
Her father was gone. Her mother, her brother, her grandparents... she did not know. She could not know.
And in that moment, even with Gabe behind her, it did not matter.
She was alone.
Inside what used to be their small dining area, Iris stumbled across a plate still sitting on the table. Dust covered the meal, untouched, frozen in time. Her father must have left it there, believing they would come back and eat together.
Her throat tightened. She wiped her sleeve across her wet cheeks and moved deeper into the ruins.
Gabe stayed a few steps behind, silent. He knew better than to speak.
She found her old room. The door leaned against the scorched frame, barely holding on. Inside, the walls were blackened, the shelves had collapsed, but pieces of her childhood clung stubbornly to the wreckage. Torn posters of gymnasts, singers, and performers peeled from the cracked walls. Broken trophies glittered weakly under layers of dust. Near the edge of her desk, a dusty charm bracelet rested, the one her mother gave her after her first recital.
Iris stepped inside. Her hand brushed the ruined desk, leaving a streak in the dust. She spoke softly, her voice thick and broken.
"I wanted to be on stage," she whispered, sniffing hard as she wiped her nose. "Not out here. Not fighting monsters."
Her voice cracked. Gabe stayed silent behind her, listening without stepping closer. He could not tell if she was talking to him or to the memories around her.
"I used to hum songs here," she said, her words hitching between shallow breaths. "Pretend the world outside didn't exist. Just me. Just dreams."
She crouched beside the desk and reached for the bracelet. Her fingers closed around it so tightly her knuckles turned white. Tears slid down her cheeks, leaving streaks in the dust on her skin.
The room felt hollow. The silence wrapped around her, heavy and suffocating.
She noticed the desk drawer slightly open. Inside, resting carefully on a folded piece of cloth, were three things: a small voice recorder, a folded note, and her father's ring.
Her breath caught. She leaned closer, reaching out with a hand that would not stop shaking.
"I told him I would come back," she murmured through another sniff, barely able to get the words out. "I promised."
Gabe stayed at the door, guarding the moment. He said nothing. There was nothing he could say.
Her fingers brushed the cloth. She hovered there, trembling, feeling the weight of everything she had lost pressing down on her chest.
Then the world shifted.
A deep, bone-shaking cry tore through the ruins, rattling the air. It was not just noise. It was fury, raw and violent, sweeping through the broken city like a shockwave.
"GRAAAAAAH!"
The roar cracked the silence like a war horn. The walls around her seemed to vibrate, dust sifting down from the ceiling. Her hand froze, still inches from the ring.
She knew. She did not need to ask.
She wiped her face with the back of her sleeve, smearing dust and tears across her skin. Her breathing steadied, slow and heavy.
That roar was not random. It was not distant. It was here.
That thing, whatever it was, had done this. It had destroyed her home. It had taken her father. Maybe even her little brother.
Her fingers curled into a tight fist.
Gabe snapped his head toward the open street, every muscle tensing. His body shifted slightly, stepping protectively closer to Iris without blocking her view. His hand moved to the weapon at his side, eyes scanning the ruins for movement.
Iris stood up slowly, her grief hardening into something sharper. She did not look scared anymore.
Gabe did not say anything, but he felt it too. Whatever had made that sound was coming.
And they needed to be ready.
Iris stepped away from the desk, her hand still trembling slightly.
Without a word, she began walking toward the sound.
She left everything behind. The bracelet. The ring. The note. All of it.
Her crying had stopped, but the silence around her carried the heavy weight of everything broken inside her.
Gabe blinked, confused for a moment as he watched her move. His instincts screamed at him that something was wrong.
"Iris?" he called out, scanning the skyline, half-expecting another attack.
But she was already moving, slipping through the ruined hallway without hesitation.
Toward the roar.
"Iris! Wait!"
She did not stop. Her body moved faster than her thoughts could catch up. A deep, buried ache was burning inside her chest, sharper than fear, louder than reason. If something was still alive in this city, if something had caused all this destruction, then she was going to face it.
Even if it killed her.
Gabe cursed under his breath and chased after her.
Sly arrived just in time to see Iris's silhouette disappearing into the swirling fog ahead.
"Don't you dare do this alone!" Gabe shouted, running after her.
But Iris did not answer.
She kept walking, steady and silent, toward the roar that shattered her world.
The Pink Fog shifted as Iris stepped onto the open street.
The ruins of Minawa City stretched around her. Shattered rooftops leaned against broken walls. Cracked pavement was covered in mist. Pieces of everyday life lay scattered and rotting.
The air was heavy and still, broken only by the soft clicking of something moving through the fog.
Then came the cry.
A guttural, stretched-out shriek ripped through the air. It was not just a roar. It was a call, loud and ugly, like a performer demanding attention.
"GRAAAAAAH!"
The sound slammed against the buildings and echoed through the mist. It rolled over Iris, not like a warning, but like an invitation.
She gritted her teeth and kept walking.
Through the fog, the shape started to form.
And then he stepped into view.
Marionox.
He stepped out from behind a collapsed theater sign, his body tall and crooked. His frame was made of dark, twisted wood, with strands of fog clinging to him like old cloth. Six arms stuck out from his torso at strange angles, each one holding a different weapon: a curved blade, a dagger, a spiked knuckle, a short spear, a hook, and a chain.
Every step made his joints creak loudly, like old wood ready to snap. A sharp clicking sound followed him, steady and slow, like a clock counting down.
Marionox was not human.
He was once a tree, twisted by the Pink Fog into a Nightmare. Now he moved like a puppet, a creature shaped by the madness of the mist.
Long strands of fog stretched from Marionox's limbs into the mist above, twitching and pulling as if invisible hands were controlling him. His face was a smooth, pale mask painted with thick, exaggerated makeup that made his empty smile even stranger. It did not move when he spoke.
"Welcome," a whisper said from behind Iris.
She turned quickly, but nothing was there.
"To the final act."
This time the voice came from beneath her feet, low and creeping.
Iris stayed still. Her eyes locked onto him without fear.
Marionox did not move like a monster. He moved like a performer in a circus, every step careful, every gesture stretched wide for an unseen crowd. His movements were slow and dramatic, as if every strike would be part of a show. A deadly performance.
The fog thickened, and then they appeared.
Dozens of broken dolls and twisted puppets stumbled into view. Their limbs bent the wrong way. Their faces were cracked like shattered porcelain. Their hollow eyes stared without seeing.
These were not just puppets. They were Fades, twisted by the Pink Fog and reshaped into performers under Marionox's control.
Iris stared at them, her chest tightening. These were not random monsters. They were the people of Minawa, swallowed by the Pink Fog after their safe zone fell, twisted into Fades, and forced into this nightmare.
Marionox had turned them into his performers.
Bosses were evolved Callers. When they destroyed a safe zone, the Fades under their control followed them, leaving the ruins empty. That was why cities like Minawa became silent after a collapse. The monsters did not stay. They moved with the one who commanded them.
Iris tightened her grip.
She could not save them. Not anymore.
She charged forward.