The change was immediate, the Chosen of America, Arthur Clive, grasped his skull, screaming as Cheshire got to work, leaving the famous Adventurer within one of Cheshire’s illusions.

23 found Cheshire’s Anima to be a disturbing bit of work, even for the serial killer himself.

When 23 killed someone, that was it, they were gone, anything done afterwards would not be felt by the person he killed, he had done his thing… he only targeted the body.

But Cheshire went for a place that wasn’t so easily defended, the mind… 23 was definitely going to kill Cheshire if Cheshire ever tried to seriously use that Anima against him.

“Hey… is it supposed to be this bad?” 23 realized there was a bit of an issue when Arthur dropped to his knees, holding the back of his head and pressing his forehead into the ground of the Demon Lord Room floor.

Even when Cheshire used it on 23 in a case of self-defence 23 didn’t feel it would be this dangerous… sure, he had issue with Cheshire being able to mess with the brain, but something to this extreme…

“No, I just, I tried to make him relive the worst moment of his life…” Cheshire said with a bit of apprehension and 23 frowned.

He knew pretty well that such an attack would work differently depending on the person… for a child, it wouldn’t be that bad generally, a scraped knee or being shouted at would suffice.

But for people like 23 and who 23 suspected Arthur Clive to be… their worst moments weren’t so simple as to be a ‘moment’.

Eternity would be a more apt description with how it would feel, if Cheshire did this same attack to someone who went through Vietnam or Afghanistan then they could just relive all the bad parts of the war at once.

“Well, I happen to think that worked a bit too well.” The voice rang out in the silence of the room, and 23 slowly looked from Cheshire to the kneeling form of the Chosen of America…

Arthur Clive sighed, standing up from his kneeling position with unfair grace to the action, the cloak and dagger he wore before being attacked by Cheshire suddenly gone, missing as he rolled his neck.

23 had the sudden feeling of déjà vu as he stared at Arthur Clive, who was looking to his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists as if in thought.

“I mean, were it anyone other than me, I’m pretty sure they’d be catatonic after such a thing… well, luckily I’m not someone else.” 23 was still staring, a slow smile spreading on his face as he realized who he was talking to…

“Boss zero one?” 23 asked, hoping and praying that the man before him was truly the person he looked up to so long ago.

“Ah, Mourn. It’s good to see that you’re still alive after all these years. How did Pennhurst treat you?” 23 had no doubt of who was before him now, only one person knew to call him ‘Mourn’.

The very person who gave him that name.

“I was drugged and tortured until Red Sky Day… then I was given Drug Resistance and managed to escape with my Anima.” 23, no, Mourn, spoke with a tactful voice, yet the wavering reverence in it was undeniable to those who could recognize it…

It was odd, for all the people who worked for Mourn to see him like this, still, calm, quiet… all too often they noted Mourn to be the largest presence in the room, moving and loud, and now all of a sudden…

It was like watching red hot metal be dipped into a vat of ice, rapidly cooling to become rigid and unbending… no wonder Metal was his Element.

“Well that’s to be expected, you probably went crazy after I left huh? It’s just like you to be too reliant on me.” There was a pause as everyone realized what Arthur Clive had just said, and then there were wide eyed glares sent his way by those loyal to Mourn.

“Huh?” Mourn said numbly, looking at the derisive face on the Chosen of America.

“I mean, why do all this… kidnap my sister, make an enemy of the world, create a criminal empire, and for what, to get my attention?” Mourn could do nothing but stare as the man he had searched for, the man he had believed in for so long…

“Grow up you sorry excuse for meat shield. I haven’t been killing in years, I’m retired, and here you come trying to drag me out again… Well, I suppose that’s the only way you have ever really helped me.” Mourn could tell… he was… he was-

“So with that said, I doubt there’s a single reason you could give me to not slaughter you and this entire operation before I go back to pretending all is well with the world, and ‘Arthur Clive’ is actually a well-adjusted human being.” Mourn was being rejected.

Cheshire, purveyor of psychology that he was, felt the parallels to a few disturbing situations… Mourn’s search for Arthur Clive, his reliance on Arthur’s existence, and then Arthur denying Mourn…

It brought up too many similarities to an abuse victim idolizing their abuser.

But Cheshire could not say such a thing, not now.

“I… I did all this… for you.” Cheshire started, getting a single raised eyebrow from ‘Arthur’ who had crossed his arms as he stared impassively at Cheshire.

“Oh? I’m not exactly the best family man, but I’m pretty sure that kidnapping my sister was not a good move, even if I couldn’t give a damn whether she lived or not.” Cheshire was immensely disturbed by what he was seeing with the Chosen…

Arthur Clive wasn’t lying. There were no tells that Cheshire could see… no wavering of the voice, the calm certainty as he dismissed his sister’s death…

“I didn’t know if it was you! I never learnt your name, I only knew you as ‘Boss’ or ‘zero one’ I couldn’t be certain until I met you!” Mourn shouted now, and it was the most panicked Cheshire had ever seen the normally calm man.

“Then why didn’t you meet me… ah, my popularity. You figured that I’d be under watch and thus wouldn’t be able to meet me as easily as you’d hope. Still, this was a ham-fisted attempt to get my attention, no subtlety, no finesse, just smashing a delicate balance to pieces, as per the norm for you.” For all watching, this conversation… it felt like a train-smash happening in slow motion.

“…” Mourn was clenching his fist, scowling at Arthur Clive who looked to the ceiling of the room before shrugging.

“I suppose this is never going to end unless I state it simply. I killed you. Then I killed myself. We both somehow survived such a thing, and you wanted to come looking for me.” Arthur summarized the relationship between him and Mourn simply…

But it really wasn’t that simple.

“Mourn, remember what I told you? Anyone who tries to kill you is an enemy. I tried to kill you. I’m your enemy. Not your friend, not your leader, or whatever else you might think in your mind, I’m none of that.” Arthur then held out his hand…

And in it appeared a dagger… but it wasn’t the one he had just a moment ago.

The plain, unadorned and boring form of the Nameless Dagger was nowhere to be seen, instead this dagger appeared to be longer and wider, curling backwards slightly… it frankly looked like a massive fang.

“Huh, would you look at that…I’m considered enough of a different person to require a different Anima…” Arthur muttered aloud, and on his back appeared a short black cape of sorts, not even reaching to his lower back as he hummed.

“Well that explains it, the Dagger was mine and the Cloak was his… but we can both sort of use the other’s Anima…” Arthur stopped his inspection of his equipment to stare at Mourn.

Mourn has already summoned Razorback and his Top Hat, grinding his teeth together with anger at his situation.

“Everything… everything I did, I did for you… and you throw it in my face like this? I believed in you, I trusted you…” Mourn growled out while Arthur’s face morphed into a notably creepy smile.

“So? Where’s the rule that says that I have to accept that? I refuse you Mourn… this world isn’t suitable for either of us.” Arthur flipped his Dagger a bit, before he settled it into his right hand, his left hand making grasping motions instead of getting any other weapon out.

“Mourn… I’m going to try and kill you again. Hopefully this time, you stay dead. I don’t need you bothering the other me.” Mourn was understandably confused by the whole situation, hurt too, but there wasn’t much he could do except rush forward as Arthur moved to kill him.

Cheshire, standing on the side was beginning to think that the Chosen of America had some sort of split personality or something what with how he distinguished ‘the other me’ from his current form…

And the sudden change in his Anima’s appearance too…

Simultaneously, both thrust forward with their respective daggers, their wrists being grabbed by the other’s free hand, leaving them both staring at each other’s hands.

There was a still moment where Arthur and Mourn looked up and into the other’s eyes as the hands holding the daggers flipped their weapons to try and stab the hand holding them, both releasing rather than get stabbed.

Using their daggers in their current reverse hold, both attempted to stab each other in the chest, instead having their forearms meet, blocking each other once more, causing both to let loose a kick in an attempt to disengage.

Both were sent tumbling back a few metres, Arthur notably stumbling further back due to Mourn’s enhanced Strength stat, and both glared at each other.

The exchange barely took a few seconds.

“Just like when we were kids. You were always stronger than I was… and yet I never lose.” Arthur smirked, making Mourn check his grip on Razorback before he looked back at the strange parody of Arthur Clive.

“Let me ask you something Bo- no, Arthur… if you are my enemy, I will try to seriously kill you.” Mourn said, as if that little knife-play they just engaged in was just a greeting.

“Well that depends Mourn, what’s your question? You know I’m quite the megalomaniac, I love explanations.” Arthur smirked, and Mourn clenched his off hand, cracking his knuckles with the action.

“Why are there two of you. And why are you lying?” Arthur’s face changed, going from a smirk to a neutral expression for just a moment before the smirk was back in full force.

“Oh, right, that’s probably super confusing… so you see, when we were kids, I found myself the most dangerous of Pennhurst’s child soldiers… and I enjoyed hurting others because I was good at doing that.” Arthur admitted, his dagger being swung lazily through the air as he spoke.

“Then one day, I realized what I was doing. You know, like how subconsciously you breathe, but then one day realizing that the little action you do every second or so is what keeps you alive.” Arthur’s smirk vanished once more as he tapped his own chest with the point of his dagger.

“I… or rather, we realized, that we were actually hurting people. That hurting people was a ‘bad’ thing. That we were doing horrible things unknowing of the truth… until that day.” Arthur’s smirk returned and Mourn’s eyes widened for a moment before narrowing.

Both moved at some unseen signal, moving quickly as their daggers clashed, Arthur losing out slightly as he slapped out with his hand, hitting Mourn’s forearm and giving Arthur the chance to extend out with the same arm to hit Mourn in the chest.

Mourn instead twisted with the hit to his forearm, moving to the side and then spinning and lashing out with Razorback, causing Arthur to jump back.

“The day you murdered me right?” Mourn asked and Arthur scoffed, even as they continued the fight… his lack of an answer was more of a yes than anything he could have said.

Arthur attempted to lash out with his knife, missing unfortunately with widened eyes when Mourn stepped back, noting an opening, Mourn lashed out, then jumped back…

In Arthur’s shoulder was Razorback, and Arthur didn’t even look at the dagger causing him immense pain, he’d be stupid to try and remove the thing after seeing its serrated back.

Instead of removing it, he followed Mourn, surprising the serial killer when Arthur moved instead of acknowledging his pain, Arthur using the hand holding his new Dagger to grab his tiny cloak and toss it in front of him, blinding Mourn for but a moment…

Mourn stepped back, knowing that it was better to widen this gap, but Arthur hadn’t even bothered with the cloak after throwing it…

Instead he had slid, sliding to a stop just slightly next to Mourn, swinging his leg and catching Mourn by the ankle, pulling his leg out from under him and causing the man to plant his face into the earth with a sickening crack.

Both rolled away from the other with Arthur paying special attention to his left shoulder as they both stood opposite each other, Arthur with Razorback in his shoulder and Mourn with a broken nose.

“By the way? Yes, it was that day. I killed you, choked you out until your heart stopped… and that’s when I realized that I was ending your existence.” Arthur paused, sighing deeply.

“I broke, that day. As you no doubt know, shortly after they managed to restart your heart, I tried to kill myself, but I guess stabbing myself through the lung wasn’t enough… note to self, aim for heart.” Arthur’s right hand came up to his right side for a moment.

“So what, killing yourself was what led to this insanity? Believing yourself to be two separate people?” Mourn asked, getting a sigh from Arthur in response… no one noticed the irony.

“No, this did not happen on that day… but it started the events. When I… no, I didn’t wake up that day. He woke up. The other me. The one that fears hurting others… the one that stays away from violence without understanding why he enjoys it.” Arthur then looked to Razorback, looking confused for a moment.

“How does magic work again… right…” Arthur focused, and then slowly his fingers darkened, the ink-like colouration slowly moving up his arm before it moved over his reddening shoulder, hiding the colour as Arthur began moving his fingers.

“I expected sparks, but I guess, different Anima, different magic Element, not that farfetched… also, using your body as a puppet is painful.” Arthur said casually as Mourn reached out with his hand, Razorback disappearing from Arthur’s shoulder and reappearing in his hands…

Arthur, this Arthur at least, forgot about that little trick.

“Either you get to the point or we continue.” Mourn glared at Arthur, trying to get him to rush his explanation as Arthur shrugged, ignoring the pain going through his shoulder.

“Fine, fine… let’s finish this fight, and this story. So my other half woke up instead of me, and due to being brain dead for a bit, he didn’t have any memories. Amnesia.” Arthur started with a sigh.

“So he lives his life, normally, ignoring the urges he gets to hurt others… and then what happens, but Red Sky Day. The excuse to hurt others has finally appeared, even if it’s non-humans.” Arthur then brought his right arm across his chest before dramatically waving it.

Mourn recalled this Arthur liking said dramatics.

“And with that bastard Chronos giving us access to Anima, the Soul of humanity? Of course I started waking up around then… but I couldn’t affect my other half beyond sharing my Anima, the Dagger of Hunger with him.” Arthur showed off his now named Dagger with a flourish as he continued.

“But because we’re not quite the same person… well, his version is called the Nameless Dagger, and my version of his cloak is the Nameless Cloak. We don’t have full access to the other’s Anima…” Arthur was getting a bit technical now, so Mourn stomped his foot into the ground, the boom from the Strength stat over two hundred telling Arthur to continue.

“Then, and then… well, my Dagger, it eats souls.” That drew queasy looks from all around as it clicked.

Killing someone was final… but knowing that Souls existed, that changed things, along with the fact that they were fighting to get to Hell and kill Chronos.

So knowing that being killed by that Dagger would result in your Soul being ‘eaten’ by Arthur…

“That’s a good reaction… so, eating Souls, along with levelling up, increases the size of our Soul…but the crack remains. It can’t be filled.” Arthur then clapped his hands together, before separating them once more.

“So once our Soul grew enough… well, we started to tear apart, my ‘oh so noble’ half and myself… at this point we’re one jolt away from being two half souls in one body.” Arthur’s dagger reappeared in his hand, and he pointed it at Mourn once more.

“So that attack your subordinate used locked down the other half… but it let me move as I please. We’re still not separate beings, and I have a feeling I’ll be forced into the backseat soon…” Arthur stepped forward, leaning in an aggressive manner.

“So before I get kicked back in, I’m going to make sure you’re dead, or at least so injured you have to leave us alone.” And so Arthur rushed forward once more, and Mourn cursed as he moved backwards instead of forwards.

“Dumb move.” Arthur said, throwing the Dagger of Hunger at Mourn, Mourn deflecting the blade to the side only to find Arthur’s hand filled with the very blade he deflected.

Their daggers impacted one another, making both of their hands numb as their hands bounced back, and it was at this moment their skill began to devolve little by little.

Both stabbed forward, the opposing arm being used to lock their dagger holding hands in place and at some unseen signal Mourn tried to head-butt Arthur.

Arthur responded by swinging his head back, letting go of Mourn’s arm and instead grabbing him by the shirt, rolling backwards and tossing Mourn over his head.

Mourn landed on his back with a very vocal curse, rolling to the side as the Dagger of Hunger hit where his head had been a moment ago.

Having moved into a standing position, Mourn swung his off hand, blades of Metal whirling into existence and shooting towards Arthur, who was dodging the blades, rearing back his darkness covered arm.

Mourn had not expected the hit, cursing when the black fist ‘enlarged’ and slammed into him, knocking him back for only a moment before the punch made of Darkness thinned out into a tendril, latched onto Mourn, and Arthur pulled.

Mourn was strong, much stronger than Arthur physically, so Mourn resisted, making Arthur smirk as he jumped, pulling himself towards Mourn instead and trying to strike Mourn with a knee to the face.

Mourn managed to block that blow, but he hadn’t expected Arthur to use Mourn’s blocking hand to practically roll over Mourn’s head, slashing at the back of Mourn’s leg as he did so, landing in a heap behind Mourn while Mourn buckled into a kneeling position.

“Fuck…” Mourn cursed, feeling one of his calves torn and bleeding, taking a note from his opponent and surrounding the limb in metal and forcing it to move, turning just in time to punch Arthur in the face.

The split personality of the strongest Adventurer in America was forced back due to the punch, achieving lift off and bouncing off of the floor as he flew due to Mourn’s much higher Strength stat.

Arthur wasn’t down for long though, his own Vitality stat enhancing his healing to the point that the cracked bone of his jaw was likely already healed as he stood, staring at Mourn.

Both breathed heavily, wanting to continue their fight, desperate for a conclusion…

But it wasn’t to be, as Arthur’s eyes widened stumbling and holding up a hand to his mouth as a sickly, wet cough rang throughout the area, blood leaking from his mouth as he cursed weakly.

“F-fuck… couldn’t he stay sleeping for a bit longer…” Arthur cursed, and Mourn’s eyes widened, realizing what was happening as he looked over to Cheshire, seeing the criminal clutching his head in pain.

“B-boss, it’s… stopping…” Mourn frowned, knowing that the other Arthur, the one who didn’t realize who Mourn was, that Arthur would be waking up soon.

And despite himself, Mourn realized that he didn’t really want to kill Arthur if it wasn’t the one who was just in a fight with.

Confusing, but Mourn couldn’t really explain his feelings correctly to others in the first place when he barely understood them himself.

All Mourn knew was that, as Arthur tipped back, eyes rolling back as he lost consciousness, the fight was over…

“So we killing them, Boss?” someone spoke, and Mourn didn’t actually care who it was… it might have been one of the other many nameless people who worked for him, it might even have been someone who went into the Dungeon with Mourn like Cheshire.

It didn’t matter who asked, but Mourn would have the same answer.

“…No. This was all so I could kill that guy. But if his mind is not the one operating that body, what’s the point?” Mourn asked, most if not all of the psychopaths working for him confused on what he was talking about.

“I want to kill him in a fight, like the one we just had. Killing him when he’s down like this is pointless.” Mourn said, banishing his Animae with a thought, turning to look at his men and pointing to the teleporter that would get them out of the Dungeon.

“We’re leaving. Untie them and let’s go.” Many looked uncertain by Mourn’s actions and request, but no one dared deny the orders of their Boss, knowing he would kill them for their disobedience, the thugs and psychopaths left confused and whispering.

No one was really sure but… had they won? Or had they lost?

Following Mourn, the man known as Cheshire furrowed his brow in suspicion, looking from Mourn and back to the collapsed form of the ‘strongest Adventurer’…

“…If it was us or him…” Cheshire began, keeping the thought from being spoken aloud for fear of being overheard by one of the many dangerous beings around him.

It would be almost an hour before anyone woke up to wake the others in the room, using the ‘team’ function to make sure that the loved ones of the Chosen would be able to exit the Dungeon with said Chosen.

Each of these loved ones was now terrified and would remain traumatized by the events of their time under Mourn’s watch to varying degrees.

There were many, many problems to be sorted through, bit by bit…

But there was a problem immediately noticeable from even before these groups left the Dungeon.

Arthur Clive wasn’t waking up.

The strongest Adventurer was in a coma.