The sun cast its glittering rays through the twisted metal and faded colors of La Manchaland, an eerily enchanting amusement park that once thrummed with laughter and joy, now overtaken by darkness. The rides stood still, their paints peeling and rusting, while eerie whispers carried upon the breeze, intertwined with the distant sounds of deranged laughter. Amidst all this chaos, the figure of The Robloxian Killer, Extremis, adjusted the collar of the tattered cloak that billowed behind him. His eyes narrowed as he assessed his surroundings through the vibrant arches that framed the carnival attractions. “Let’s see what’s gone wrong here,” he muttered, his voice low and steady. As he stepped into Area 1, “Pretty And Wonderful”, the grotesque carnival lights flickered sporadically, casting haunting shadows that twisted like the bloodfiends that roamed beyond his sight. The stalls were still decorated with clawed-up plush toys, now lying lifeless, like the dreams of those who once visited the park. Everything was coated with an unsettling layer of crimson—the result of the bloodfiends still draw to this haunt, capable of sensing a fresh source of blood. Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a swift movement. There it was — a shadow darting past the Ferris wheel with an unsettling grace. “Who’s there?” Extremis called out, instinctively gripping his Bombo's Knife tightly. “Just a friendly friend, Extremis,” a voice replied, dripping with sarcasm. The figure emerged—a bloodfiend dressed in an absurd jester costume, laughter mingled with lunacy danced off their lips as they stepped towards him. “You’re in our playground now.” “Where's your Bloodbag? Did you let it run away?” he shot back, eyes sharp with a hint of amusement. The bloodfiend’s mood shifted, becoming sinister as it leered at him. “What brings you to La Manchaland? A game, perhaps?” With a flick of his wrist, the knife glinted under the eerie lighting of the carnival attractions. “I’m not here to play. I’m here to investigate this madness. Why are bloodfiends running rampant?” “They’re just starving, you see,” the jester bloodfiend chuckled maniacally, “and guess what? You’re on the menu! We could always use another snack!” Before the bloodfiend could make a move, Extremis propelled himself forward, using his unnatural agility. He flashed past the bloodfiend, leaving them swinging their clawed hand at thin air. In an instant, the Bombo's Knife was thudding home, the blade biting deep. “Agh!” the bloodfiend shrieked, but as Extremis pulled back, the blood seemed to explode out, the energy swirling around him in an electrifying haze. “Seems you won’t be needing this anymore,” Extremis said coolly, stepping back. The bloodfiend staggered and fell, lifeless amidst the décor of forgotten joy. A chilling laugh broke the silence. A figure stood atop the rusting roller coaster in Area 3 — The Manager of La Manchaland, known as Don Quixote. Her eyes glimmered like sharpened obsidian, and a smile that promised impending doom curled her lips. “Very impressive, Robloxian,” she said, her voice smooth like silk obscuring the jagged edge of a knife. “But you’ve stirred the sleeping blood, and now you’ll face the consequences.” “Who are you?” Extremis questioned, eyeing her enormously. “You’re the one overseeing all this chaos?” “Yes, I am the Manager,” Don Quixote replied, her presence commanding and unsettling all at once. “And it seems you have wandered into a perilous game. Shall we begin?” Without warning, she snapped her fingers, and the air around her thrummed to life — a crimson mist enveloped her form, coiling and twisting like a serpent. Large, menacing weapons manifested, forming a whip from the blood itself called HBA 6. With a smirk, she flicked it towards Extremis, aiming to ensnare him. “One step too close!” But Extremis had other plans, quickly maneuvering out of its grasp. He activated his skill, the world around him blurring as he Flash Stepped forward, slicing through the air with the Bluesteel Katana, a powerful blade designed to bypass defenses. The katana met the blood whip, cleaving through it, and releasing a spray of crimson before he darted away from her reach. The blade had connected, and for a moment, Don Quixote's eyes widened, albeit briefly. “Impressive,” she hissed, the thrill of battle igniting a spark of excitement in her voice. “But you won’t escape that easily!” Extremis paused momentarily, catching his breath; he glanced around for any potential exit. The ongoing parade of bloodfiends and bloodbags moved without missing a step, dressed in worn-out costumes and haunting masks that fueled the air with dread. “What a haunting spectacle,” he murmured under his breath. “So many victims.” He focused back on Don Quixote, who was now enveloped in a veiled fierceness. “I can play too,” she whispered, and with a plunge of her hand, she summoned more blood, hardening it into formidable weapons—scissors, a monstrous pair of blades that shimmered with a life of their own as she wielded them like a master artist. “Welcome to my arena!” she shouted, charging at him in a whirlwind of speed. With an agility that defied logic, Extremis dashed backward towards one of the carnival's largest attractions—the haunted house. The walls were draped in darkness, but something within seemed to draw him closer to its malevolent embrace. “I like the haunted house!” he yelled, eyes glinting with wicked determination. “It’s a perfect place for a bloodsucker to meet their match!” With that thought, he dove inside the ledge of the haunt, evading the blood scissor that sliced through the air, narrowly avoiding its deadly grasp. The benefits of the passage proved immediately advantageous: he weaved around a ghostly apparition, dodging ghosts entangled with chains as he pressed further into the dark mystery of the house. “Coward!” Don Quixote called after him, her presence unwavering even from the distance. “Can you still run when I control your blood?” She made a clawing gesture, blood surged forward, creeping and warping along the walls like a sentient entity. Extremis knew he had to act fast. He quickly grasped his Hidden Inventory, summoning the 10,000 Stud Coil—a chain whip that would connect at the flick of his wrist. As he exited the haunted corridor towards the next area, he lashed the coil behind him. “Time to cut the puppet strings!” The chain crackled and hissed against the air, colliding with the blood that flowed behind him. The blood splattered upon contact, forcing Don Quixote to hold back her attack momentarily while she anchored herself into the ground. “Nice try!” she snarled, but the determination in her gaze was faltering. With the opportunity, Extremis struck with the Bluesteel Katana again, moving closer to her. “You’ve lost control, Don Quixote. This blood you think you command—” He knew he had to deliver the killing blow. “—it belongs to those you’ve wronged!” He lunged at her, utilizing his speed to breach the distance, and in that moment, the air crackled with tension. Don Quixote’s eyes widened, realizing the moment was upon her—an intense battle of wills played before them, blood led by rage, desperation entwined with survival. But before he could land the decisive strike, she summoned her strongest weapon—the HBA 15, her signature blood lance glowing ominously. “No!” Extremis pleaded, instinctively ducking under the thrust of her colossal lance as it pierced the ground, sending shards flying up into the air. Rising quickly, he slipped and found his footing once more, but he couldn’t ignore the adrenaline surging through his veins. “I won’t let this end here. I am The Robloxian Killer!” A flurry of past memories ignited his conviction anew, and he faced Don Quixote with unwavering focus. “This ends tonight!” Don Quixote chuckled darkly. “Then let’s see you try!” The concluding clash echoed throughout La Manchaland, rippling through the hollow spaces of the park, unsettling the very shadows that remained. Blood and battle intertwined under the surreal glow of the amusement park lights, casting a haunting scene where nightmares came to play. But Extremis wasn’t just an investigator; he was a force of will, a shadow darting through the threads of chaos, ready to confront a terror empowered by the chilling darkness. With a final, passionate roar from both ends, they lunged at one another—a battle of strange legends, the unknown intertwining in their relentless pursuit for dominion under the haunting moonlight of La Manchaland.