"I can give you small stat boosts and small shields," the woman said, confident as a lion among cubs.
Both Kuro's and Atlas's eyes widened immediately. A support user? That wasn't just useful — it was basically a cheat code for survival.
Not only could she boost stats, but she could even provide shields? The two exchanged a quick glance. Unspoken agreement passed between them: they needed her now.
"That's decent," Kuro admitted, keeping his voice neutral but his brain already working at full speed. "But how does it work exactly? Details matter."
The woman straightened up, seemingly proud to explain her worth.
"Ehm, well, my stat boost lasts around ten minutes. I can boost two stats by +1 each. And the shield? It remains until you're hit." She explained it simply, like a teacher dumping things down for two particularly thick students.
Atlas tilted his head, a confused expression plastered on his face.
"Wait, so the shield...absorbs a full attack?" he asked, hope creeping into his tone like a lost puppy.
"No," Seraphine corrected with a patient smile, "only part of it. If the blow's strong enough, it'll still hurt you."
Atlas's shoulders slumped a little at that. Of course it wasn't that easy.
Still, it was good enough. Far better than nothing.
Kuro nodded approvingly. "Good enough. Name's Kuro. I specialize in swordsmanship," he introduced himself curtly, flashing his blade in a short arc. The sword gleamed under the flickering, broken streetlights, the edge clean but obviously used.
Atlas hesitated, then ripped off the clown mask he'd been wearing like a cursed accessory and mumbled awkwardly:
"I'm Atlas. I...uh, can use this green stick to knock stuff back. And I have a camouflage skill..."
The difference in power between their skills hit him like a truck. He sounded pathetic next to the sword-wielding badass and the stat-boosting shield maiden.
The woman gave them a warm, encouraging smile.
"I'm Seraphine. Let's survive this together," she said, clasping her hands with an earnestness that made Atlas's stomach twist uncomfortably.
As they talked a little longer, learning bits and pieces about each other, a sharp system notification blared in front of their faces like a giant neon sign.
[Warning: Stage 2 of Invasion 1 will now begin.]
Even the usually trolling system of Atlas didn't dare crack a joke. The text was outlined in ominous blood-red.
Atlas gulped audibly.
"What the heck..." Kuro muttered, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword.
"Stage 2? What does that even mean?!" Atlas blurted out, nerves on edge.
Seraphine stayed calm, almost eerily so.
"It's safe to assume things are about to get worse. New enemies, buffs for old ones...maybe both."
Kuro crossed his arms. "She's right. We'll have to be ten times more careful."
Atlas blinked. When he opened his eyes, both Seraphine and Kuro were grinning at him — wide, mischievous smiles, like predators spotting a plump, slow-moving deer.
"Wh—?"
Before Atlas could even finish his thought, they said it together, perfectly synchronized:
"You're the bait."
[Just act like you normally do, clown.]
Next thing Atlas knew, he was forced into not only the clown mask again but also the fat clown's filthy, ripped costume — complete with a gaping hole in the back. It smelled like sadness, sweat, and old popcorn.
"Why do I have to wear the fat clown's costume?!" Atlas whined, struggling against Kuro, who was basically stuffing him into it like a Thanksgiving turkey.
"Because you need to sell it. If you don't look convincing, they'll kill you instantly," Kuro replied dryly, tightening the costume's back with a knot.
"Besides, you're the perfect bait," Seraphine added cheerfully.
Atlas groaned but reluctantly marched forward down the empty street, grumbling curses under his breath.
Behind him, Kuro and Seraphine kept their distance, a few dozen feet back, weapons drawn, ready to spring into action if — no, when — Atlas pissed off something dangerous.
The city wasn't quiet anymore.
Far from it.
Screams echoed from every direction. Distant clashes, the clanging of weapons, insane laughter — it all blended into one giant, chaotic soundtrack of the apocalypse. The air smelled like smoke, blood, and something... burnt.
Atlas hugged the cheap green stick tightly to his chest, trying to stay calm.
That's when it happened.
In the blink of an eye, the wind shifted.
A storm of confetti materialized in front of him, swirling violently as it converged into a humanoid shape.
The colorful particles twisted, spun, and compacted, revealing a clown made entirely of confetti — vibrant, sickly beautiful, and disturbingly alive.
It held a balloon in one hand, bobbing gently. The balloon itself seemed to pulse like a beating heart.
The clown didn't seem hostile — at least, not yet. Thanks to Atlas's Camouflage skill, it apparently considered him one of their own.
The confetti clown spoke in a garbled language, its voice light and musical, but completely incomprehensible.
Atlas froze.
"Frick, what the hell does this shitter want? If I don't answer, he's gonna get suspicious!"
His system popped into view like an annoying popup ad.
[Maybe if you ask nicely, clown.]
Atlas gritted his teeth so hard he could hear them creak.
"Oh, pretty, glorious System, would you please translate what this colorful trash pile just said to me?" he muttered through clenched teeth, his pride dying a slow, painful death.
[Installing Automatic Language Translator... ... Finished.]
"Okay, what did you say again?" Atlas asked out loud, pretending he just hadn't heard him the first time.
The confetti clown sneered, looking at Atlas like he was a roach underfoot.
"I said, why are you marching around with two filthy humans following you, you low-class piece of trash?"
Atlas's brain raced. Think, THINK, you idiot.
He gave a nervous, submissive laugh and replied:
"They, uh, they've been challenging you! Yeah, they keep saying they want to fight you!"
The confetti clown narrowed his eyes in disbelief.
"So just because they asked you to, you brought them here?" he asked coldly.
"They... threatened me..." Atlas stammered, throwing in a convincing fake tremble.
The confetti clown leaned in, so close Atlas could smell the faint scent of burning paper.
"Good," the clown whispered. "You led them to their deaths."
Then the confetti clown strode past Atlas toward Kuro and Seraphine, the balloon bobbing ominously like a sinister omen.
[This is getting good. Don't screw it up.]
Seraphine's hands glowed gold as she channeled her buff spells, the energy forming into visible threads that wrapped around Kuro like armor.
Kuro's body blurred, moving faster than human eyes could follow. His feet barely skimmed the ground as he lunged.
The sword strike wasn't just a slash — it was a blurred line of death. The blade cut clean through the clown, slicing it into rainbow shreds.
Confetti rained down like a macabre celebration, a blizzard of color that momentarily blinded even Atlas.
But the pieces floated back together like a nightmare reassembling itself.
The clown reformed with an arrogant grin.
"You can't kill me, human," it said smugly, its balloon pulsing brighter.
Without warning, the clown popped its balloon with a claw-like nail.
An explosion of confetti surged forward — a living wave that wrapped around Kuro and Seraphine like chains.
The moment the confetti touched them, it became razor-sharp. Blood sprayed from shallow cuts as they fought to break free.
Atlas watched in horror as the confetti tightened, squeezing the life out of his two companions.
The colors turned grotesque, shifting from vibrant pinks and yellows to deep, ugly crimson.
Seconds later, the mass pulled away, returning to the clown, who now held another balloon dripping with red.
Kuro and Seraphine stumbled, bleeding but defiant.
Kuro stood tall, hand stretched out toward the heavens, blood dripping down his arm.
"BURN TO DEATH, YOU FREAKSHOW!"
A colossal bolt of blue lightning ripped through the stormy sky, striking the clown dead center.
The initial hit only stunned it, but then the confetti at its feet ignited.
Fire roared up its body like a starving beast. The clown shrieked, a sound like a thousand balloons popping at once, flailing uselessly.
It tried to smother the flames, but the fire was greedy — devouring every scrap.
Within seconds, nothing remained but a smoldering pile of ash.
Kuro walked up and spat contemptuously on the ashes.
"Still feeling immortal, asshole?" he hissed.
Seraphine staggered forward, grinning proudly.
"Yay, I leveled up!" she cheered, wiping blood from her chin.
"My skill evolved too," Kuro added, wiping his blade clean with a bloody rag.
Atlas jogged over to them, checking their wounds with concern.
Of course, he hadn't gained a single point of experience.
Apparently, the system had rules. No damage dealt or assists given? No EXP.
He sighed bitterly.
Then he glanced at them again.
Both Kuro and Seraphine, despite being battered and bleeding, wore identical wicked smirks. They looked... terrifyingly alike. Like two villains fresh off a successful heist.
Atlas shivered.
He knew it — he was surrounded by maniacs.
"Let's go hunt more," they said, perfectly in sync.
[Perfect. You're their bait. Forever.]