The Jester of Apocalypse

The smell of books, dried parchment, tanned leather, and old paper filled the air. Pages shuffled, disciples whispered, clatters and murmurs filled the cramped areas between the shelves of the grand library. In a small corner dedicated to herbology books, several meek disciples struggled to focus on their studies.

A young brunette girl whispered to the disciple beside her, “What do you think happened to him?”

Her friend replied, “I don’t know… He had a conversation with him just a few minutes ago. You think they had a fight?”

“Hmmm,” The young woman contemplated, “I doubt it. I think it’s pointless to debate what those monsters talk about. They’re likely involved in bigger plots than we will ever touch.”

“Uwaah. I don’t envy them if it can leave someone looking like that.”

“...Yeah. I’m glad I’ve convinced my family to let me become an alchemist. Even the risk of death by an explosion isn’t that stressful…”

Indeed, even though he had overheard their conversation, the target of their gossip had far more important things to worry about. He was sweaty, his eyes were bloodshot, and his crystal heart beat and chimed in his chest, every cling marking another moment where he failed to solve his problem.

I… I can’t get back in.

Neave was stuck. He had knocked himself out dozens of times but failed to return to the nightmare realm.

His mind rushed to find an idea, a solution, but the flood of paranoia halted any rational thought before it could find ground.

Everything. All his hopes had rested on the opportunity to endlessly experiment within the nightmare realm. As it stood, he was too damn weak to even face someone on the first step of the diamond path, let alone a heavensdamned heavenly messenger.

There was only one thing he could do now—run.

Think, Neave, if you were a heavenly messenger looking for you, where would you start?

Astrador perhaps knew where Neave was, but maybe he didn’t. Either way, Neave had left more than enough breadcrumbs for the messenger to conclude that he was hiding in the capital.

It was hard to appear small and blend into the background in his young master form, but he did his best as he got up and shuffled out of the library.

Thankfully, nothing got in his way, and he made his way out onto the streets, struck by the overbearing pressure of the capital crowds.

Colorful robed cultivators ran everywhere, masterfully weaving around one another and avoiding collisions. Talking beasts and people with distinct animalistic features made their way through the crowds.

The overbearing buildings of the upper echelon of the empire’s sects cast shadow and colorful reflection alike, bathing the streets in a chaotic blend of impressions.

A myriad of scents made themselves known, be it the perfumed desire for civilized presence or the sweaty armpits of the trainees present.

Neave used his shapeshifting to dull the bright colors of his hair a bit, to make sure he stood out as little as possible.

His heart beat wildly as he glanced through the crowds. Everyone who as much as lay eyes on him was an immediate target of suspicion.

Would there be only one heavenly messenger? Or perhaps there would be hordes of spies, countless goons combing their dirty fingers through the capital, feeling any bumps and kinks in the intertwined threads of clues Neave had left behind.

With every moment that passed, Neave felt the pressure mount and his steps hasten. Before long, he was running. He turned a corner once, twice, and the moment he was out of sight, he morphed into a wormlike shape that sank into the ground and made its way through the capital.

Neave quickly tracked down one of the paths he had previously used and zoomed through the underground, swiftly making his way toward the middle circle of the empire. Once there, he left the underground and ran, resorting to the faster, albeit less stealthy option.

The slightly less overbearing architecture of the middle circle blended into blurry shapes as he jumped from one rooftop to another and made his way to the lower-class areas of the outer ring. There, towers still sporadically marked the subordinate territories of the big players in the empire, but the vast majority of buildings reached only a handful of stories high.

Neave, utterly disregarding the privacy of the sects, ran over their roofs and through the courtyards, leaving little more than a faint shadow of his presence.

Soon enough, he reached the wall of the capital. He didn’t even bother jumping over it, instead using a movement technique to phase through the wall and appear on the other side.

Neave’s foot landed on the ground, and he ran to the…

Every cell in his body exploded as his instincts flared up. He sensed something. His foot had already been planted into the ground, but his speed carried him forward. Neave twisted and turned, annihilating his momentum with a technique. However, it wasn’t enough. His nose touched the faint presence he was sensing.

“Shit!”

Neave screamed and burrowed underground. He tried passing beneath it, but the presence also stretched beneath the ground. Ascending back above the ground, he chained movement techniques to rise into the air, but there seemed to be no end to it.

The entire capital was surrounded by a barrier.

It wasn’t a barricade that prevented him from leaving. However, it was apparent that that wasn’t what the barrier was designed to do.

This was a detection field—one placed by someone mighty.

Neave had only touched it a bit, and he was sure it wasn’t…

Immediately, Neave used several movement techniques to shoot toward the ground, where he promptly buried himself as deep as possible. Not even thirty meters below the ground, he was forced to stop.

They had arrived.

Neave shrank his worm form as much as he could and eliminated any trace of his presence. He focused and could faintly hear footsteps above the ground.

Three platinum path cultivators stood just above him and looked around.

Neave heard their voices, albeit just barely.

Someo… The field… Know… Suspici… Master…

Neave heard another voice.

Wait… Shrink… Hiding…

Neave felt like his soul was squeezed as he felt the barrier shrink and move toward him. He moved through the ground, slowly inching forward.

Did… Hear… erground…?

Neave froze again. He focused inwardly and silenced his spirit, using the same technique he used in the fight against Astrador to partially deactivate his spirit powers.

He winced as he felt his body morph and shape into his true body. Without the total influence of the shape-shifting power, he couldn’t maintain the worm shape for long.

Rustling… se alarm?

The dirt pressed against his skin with suffocating intensity, and the barrier shrank toward him. He inched as far from it as he could, but he was afraid that the tiniest bit of noise, the slightest disturbance of soil, would alert them to his presence.

However, the barrier just didn’t stop. It kept crawling inward, gradually shrinking as Neave desperately moved away.

Soon it arrived within a few meters of him. Not even three seconds later, it was less than a meter.

Just as it was about to touch Neave’s body again, he reactivated his spirit powers, morphed into the worm form, and moved as fast as he could through the soil, right back toward the capital.

There! … after… what the…?

Neave was surprised by just how quickly he moved through the ground. Within seconds he was back beyond the wall, and soon enough, he unburrowed inside an empty building. He morphed into a plain-looking man and walked out onto the streets, looking as busy as he could while entirely silencing his spirit.

Moments later, he spotted them. Three people of overwhelming beauty, a man and two women, each on the third step of the platinum path, jumped down from a rooftop and pointed around. Almost immediately, one of the women pointed at the building Neave unburrowed into, and all three broke through the damn wall to enter.

Many people screamed, and the masses ran away, fearing a terrorist or bandit attack.

Neave ran among them, putting on a panicked expression with surprising ease and joining the crowds in sprinting away from the disturbance.

After a few minutes of running, it was clear he had lost them, so Neave reactivated his powers and moved through the capital again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Who were these people? That was a dumb fucking question, and Neave knew it. The barrier felt incredibly similar to the anchor inside the nightmare realm.

The damn messenger had already arrived.

***

Drip… Drip… Drip…

Droplets of sweat struck the ground repeatedly. In the dark room, far in the corner of the Emperium sect, a young boy gasped for breath and shook profusely.

Yet, he grinned.

Dukean had just finished acquiring the last of the five powers. He felt like shit. Although, his spirit was almost entirely intact.

The spirit trials weren’t easy, but they were far from a real challenge for him.

Not to mention how difficult they would have been had Neave not rounded the core. This was nothing. He was willing to risk far more to get an advantage in his fight against the demons.

Dukean took a deep breath and got off the ground. The room around him was poorly lit, as there were no windows or external light, all except for a candle he lit on the floor.

He lifted his hand before his body, and a small yellow flame sparked on his palm. However small it may have been, compared to the atrocities he would have to face, it was still a relief that he had more power.

The young man concentrated, and the small flame grew bigger. It rose before him and lit up the small hidden room.

Every wall of the room was covered in papers. Images and symbols, all interconnected with red thread.

Dukean extinguished the flame, fearing a mishap may burn the room down.

He lifted his other hand and materialized a small spike of ice. Dukean pulled a sword out of his dimension ring and found no problem holding it aloft with his metal manipulation. A small rock could easily be held afloat in the air as well.

“Young master Dukean! Open the door! It is an emergency!”

Hmm?

An emergency? One that required his attention, at that?

Weird.

He willed the air to move, and a small gust of wind blew the candle out, rustling some papers.

Walking over to a blank patch of plain wall, he pushed, and the hidden door opened, leading into his private room's large, opulent quarters.

His bed, an emperor-sized construction of fancy wood, was neat and tidy. The pearly white blanket and the cool, soft pillows were flawlessly arranged by none other than himself.

The walls were lined with paintings, many holding his own signature. Two statues he had carved many years ago, lined with gold and silver, stood right beside the entrance to his room. Past the rich mahogany doors, the elder knocked on the room again, desperately trying to get his attention.

“Master Dukean, please!”

Dukean strolled over to the doors casually and unlocked them, pushing them open into the hallways of the sect, ones that paled in contrast to the shiny interior of his room.

“Elder Kongit, what happened?” Dukean asked calmly.

The elder dared impudently grab his arm and pull it, screaming like a madman in the process, “We must hurry! A miracle had arrived in the capital…!”

The young master gently yet firmly removed the elder's hand and asked, “Precisely what do you mean by that?”

“A heavenly messenger has arrived!”

Dukean froze.

***

Neave stared at the sky in disbelief.

He had been scurrying through the capital in a panic, trying to conjure up a plan of any kind, until a few moments ago.

A giant spectral image of a man appeared above the empire's capital, large enough to be seen from every corner.

Neave stopped in a crowd, all gaping in shock at the incredible sight.

The man appeared perfect, but Neave noticed only one thing. This man resembled Astrador.

Neave gritted his teeth and stared at the image.

Soon enough, the man spoke. His voice was loud and clear, and it could be heard all throughout the capital.

“Greetings, citizens of the Xinkummar continent.” The gigantic image of the impeccable man bowed slightly as he continued, “My name is Hosolar, and I have arrived on a mission. I understand some of you may still be indoors or otherwise occupied, so I will politely wait a few minutes for you all to gather.”

Neave couldn’t help but tear up. This had to have been it. There was no chance. Neave could think of only a handful of things he could do in this scenario.

If the barrier permitted it, he could potentially hide underground. If he could go deep enough, there was a chance he could discover something, anything to give him the power to at least escape.

He could try his luck and just run. There was a chance he could get away, but that would flip the hourglass, making it a matter of time before he was caught.

Perhaps he could enter his spirit realm and use the extra time to discover something?

That was a faint hope. The spirit realm wasn’t an optimal environment for learning, as reality itself worked fundamentally differently, not to mention that he didn’t even have access to his spirit powers there.

Minutes passed as Neave desperately combed through his options, only to be interrupted once the man in the sky spoke again.

“I believe enough of you had gathered, so I will begin. This capital has a hero. You have all celebrated his life and eventual death! However, your hero is still alive.”

People gasped around Neave, and a drop of sweat went down his face.

“The one you titled the lost child still walks among you! For what reason had he faked his death? Because he is noble. He is brave, courageous, and righteous. Heroes among the living get true wealth and reward, but they seize to symbolize hope. While alive, one can never truly be an unbiased representation of righteousness unless one were a god. Thus, he refused the titles and glory, choosing to remain your protector from the shadows, a guardian from beyond death!”

Neave bit his tongue hard enough for it to bleed.

The people around him exclaimed, praising his name, yet all he felt was disgust.

The heavenly messenger continued, “The heavens, however, are never blind to such saints. Thus, my father, the great god Astrador, had decided to take Neave, the Lost Child, as his disciple!”

The crowds cheered, some even crying in joy.

Neave shook in fury and disbelief. How fucking shameless could they be!?

He would have to risk it. Escape was his only option, but before he could even take a single step forward, Neave was struck by a realization.

Far too many hints of his connection to the Falken sect remained in the capital.

How long will it take them to make the connection that they’re my allies?

Neave snapped out of it. Who cared anyway…

The murmurs and cheers of the crowds continued, and he could hear the excited whispering. The people around him were overjoyed, some even weeping. Why? It was so stupid Neave couldn’t wrap his head around their behavior.

They were dumbasses. If they knew who or what Neave really was, they would weep in shame and cry bloody tears in agony.

No… No, they wouldn’t. He wasn’t… Why would he think that?

Neave shook.

It is appropriate for him to be praised this much. They weren’t wrong. No, they were fully correct. He had risked his life to defend them from the attack back then. Their reaction was appropriate.

It was only right that they praised him as what he was—their savior.

Yet, he couldn’t take another step. All he had to do was run. The scales weren’t tipped too heavily against him. He merely had to get away, and with enough time, he was confident he would have the power to face Hosolar.

It was simple enough. It was a straightforward plan that had, by far, the greatest odds of working…

…Only if he abandoned his allies.

They would be fine, though. Perhaps they would be interrogated. Their lives were safe, however. There was no reason to… Nobody would…

Neave clenched his fist. He bit his lip, and blood trickled down his chin.

A random person from the crowds spotted Neave, “Hey, what’s up with you, man!? You should rejoice!”

The man winced as he received a death glare from Neave, the likes of which Neave had never given anyone before.

Neave grabbed his head and cursed under his breath.

I should find Dukean first.

***

The smell of freshly cut wood permeated the newly built Falken sect premises. The ‘council chamber,’ one that wasn’t guaranteed to ever have an actual council take place, was currently populated by all the members of the sect, bar one.

They all sat silently, shuffling, squirming, groaning, and contemplating.

Marven stared at the neatly arranged monster cores on the ground. It hadn’t been long since Neave handed them over, and so far, nobody had decided to take a single one.

They didn’t hold bad powers—not necessarily.

Yet… They were far too random.

If they all picked their fill and chose a dozen cores each, they would undoubtedly attain immense power, regardless of the cores’ quality.

This, however, left a bitter taste in Marven’s mouth. It wasn’t about the quality of the cores, but…

Gabrias eyed the pile of cores with reluctant awe. For him, it only seemed to be a matter of temporary indecisiveness.

Hunter looked somewhat distracted and hesitant.

Harel looked like she simply didn’t care. She held a small core in her palm and stared at it. It was the same core she had spent quite a while staring at, and Marven had no idea what power it held.

Glancing back at the pile of world-changing treasures, he sighed. These cores felt like little more than an afterthought. They felt like something Neave threw at them just to get them off his back. Did this mean that he cared little or none about them?

Marven wanted to kick himself in the head for thinking that, but he couldn’t help it. Neave was gone, and heavens knew how long it would be before he returned. Yet, Marven chose to wait and see.

Rather than thinking about it from a perspective of greed for power, Marven chose to think of Neave. Was it really all right to allow him to utterly disregard them like this?

It was almost impossible for Marven not to feel like he was lying to himself when he thought like this. Having lived such a chaotic, dangerous life, it was hard to tell whether he wanted better powers from Neave rather than the best for his son.

However, with great effort, he pushed these thoughts aside and decided to wait anyway. If he could bring Neave to honestly care about his allies, even a little bit, that would be a tremendous step forward in the right direction.

From almost anyone’s point of view, these cores would seem like a gift worthy of the gods, yet, from Marven’s perspective, the statement behind these cores was clear.

Here you go, convenient acquaintances. Go play with these cores while I leave and deal with my business alone.

Marven had to concede it wasn’t the worst it could be. His son could have just completely ignored them and gone on his merry way. This gave him hope. If he cared at least this much, Marven thought, then perhaps….

At this moment, his thoughts were interrupted by a booming voice that seemed to be coming from every direction.

***

The crowds cheered, and many people screamed in joy. Among the masses, there were many displeased with this development, those that had never believed in the lost child in the first place.

Yet, what evidence of his deeds could be more significant than a messenger from the heavens appearing before them and stating the truth?

Plenty, Dukean knew. The messenger that was effectively here to kidnap Neave had arrived.

What… What do I do?

He had to rush to the library and find Neave immediately. There was a good chance Neave would run away alone, which perhaps wasn’t a bad option.

For Neave, at least. For Dukean, however… All of his plans would completely collapse.

Just as he turned and sprinted into the masses, rushing to the library, someone from the crowds ran at him, picked him up, and took him away.

Dukean could barely resist the mighty grip of his assailant, and it was almost twenty seconds of extremely fast running later that he finally realized who held him.

It was a plain-looking man, one he’d pass on the street without batting an eye. Dukean knew who this must be… It must be an agent of the Gods! Perhaps Astrador had seen Dukean in the nightmare realm and told his people to kidnap him, to use him as a tool to threaten Neave!?

No matter what he did, the man’s iron grip was simply beyond Dukean’s ability to resist.

Once they were away from prying eyes, hidden in a dark corner of some unknown sect’s courtyard, the man dropped him to the ground. Dukean immediately turned to the man and was about to yell…

Until the man transformed into Neave.

Dukean closed his gaping mouth and changed his tone, “You must drop the habit of picking me up and carrying me like a loot sack.” Dukean slumped against the wall and sighed, tension visibly leaving his body, “Now, tell me why you’re here.”

“I… I don’t fucking know, honestly.” Neave shrugged, “I wagered it’s fifty-fifty whether they’d torture you, and I found the idea unpleasant, so I picked you up.”

“That’s… Honest, I suppose.” He sighed as he got up and brushed some dirt off his robes, “So… What now? Do you have a plan?”

Neave gripped his hair and sucked air through his teeth, “I have a few ideas, but they’re all iffy at best.”

“What about the nightmare realm? You could use the extra time to…”

“I can’t get back inside.”

Dukean paused, “What? What did you do?”

Neave looked away awkwardly, “I… Look, I’m somewhat confident that this wasn’t my fault. But, yeah… I don’t really know.”

Dukean felt this situation couldn’t be that hopeless. However, the look in Neave’s eye gave away that even he believed he was cornered.

The young master gritted his teeth and spoke sternly, faking confidence and hoping some of that may transfer to Neave, “Snap out of it.” He spat, “They haven’t captured you yet. Have you consulted your father?”

Neave almost seemed offended, “What could that geezer say to improve this situation?”

“You idiot!” Dukean’s brow furrowed, “You may not have much appreciation for their power, but the wisdom of someone who has reached the platinum path is not to be underestimated.” He straightened his back and stared Neave in the eye, slightly surprised at how meek Neave seemed, “Come on, let’s go to your sect.”

Neave nodded nervously, and Dukean truly began feeling awkward at how frail he seemed. Was he actually scared? Dukean had trouble believing that. He also couldn’t really maintain pity toward Neave for long, especially not when he picked him up again and ran off toward his sect.

***

Marven stood outside, mouth agape at the man in the sky, “What the hell is happening…?”

Any father in this realm would nearly die of joy if their child had been selected to become ‘the Great God’s disciple.’ Marven was likely the only exception to this. Knowing Neave and his circumstances, this whole thing reeked of bullshit.

Marven yet again cursed himself for letting Neave do as he pleased since Neave had obviously done something he really shouldn’t have, even if Marven couldn’t fathom what could possibly result in something like this happening.

Just as he was about to turn and at least attempt to look for Neave, his son appeared before him, holding a sweaty, green-haired boy.

A single moment of eye contact with Neave confirmed Marven’s suspicion. Something about this situation was horribly wrong.

***

Neave sat in a small room of the sect, surrounded by the only people he could even tentatively call his allies. He had explained the entire situation to them, starting from the nightmare realm and going over his interactions with Astrador.

The reactions of his allies were wildly varied. Dukean merely nodded, as he was aware of the situation already.

Marven looked as if some horrid disease had struck him, he was pale, and his brows were furrowed. It wasn’t fair to call him a coward since he knew how serious having a god chasing you was.

Hunter looked even worse than Marven, as he had spent some time in the realm. He failed to wrap his head around everything Neave had told him, but he felt extreme fear was justified.

Harel looked… Detached.

And finally, Gabrias looked vaguely distressed yet awestruck by Neave’s story.

After a few short, awkward moments of silence, Marven spoke up, “I will give it to you straight, although I am certain you’re already aware of this.” He tensed, “You can likely escape if you go underground…”

Neave understood perfectly, even without hearing the end of the statement. If he ran away, the five of them would be captured.

So he should do it. He was only with them for convenience in the first place. Why should he prioritize their lives and safety over his ultimate goal? He was already risking so much with his reckless behavior, so why did the idea of abandoning them feel so…

Disgusting.

ҾҾҾҾҾҾ… ҾҾҾҾҾҾ… ҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾ…

Neave jolted.

Everyone around him tensed up.

Neave began sweating. He thought the influence had reappeared for a few moments, but no… This was different. For the first time since this phenomenon had appeared, Neave could feel it.

For whatever reason, he could enter the nightmare realm again.

However… It felt… Strange. There was something off about this connection. It felt unusual. Artificial.

Marven spoke up, “Neave, what’s happening?”

“I… I can get back in.”

Yet another round of varied reactions.

Marven looked thoughtful for a second, but doubt took over almost immediately, “That… It could potentially be a valuable opportunity for you. Would it be enough to give you a fighting chance?”

Neave thought about it for a bit, “I don’t know… This isn’t normal. I’m unsure whether this means I can enter as much as I please or… No, I’m confident.” Neave looked grim, “I can only enter the nightmare realm once.”

“Would that be enough?”

Neave contemplated it.

Dukean looked hesitant, he clearly wanted to say something, but the words simply wouldn’t come out.

To everyone’s surprise, Hunter spoke next, “Take us with you!”

Everyone looked at him.

Marven yelled, “What are you talking about!? If that was possible…”

Dukean interrupted Marven, “It is possible.”

He didn’t have to continue that statement. A massive ‘but’ was seared into his face, and he looked overwhelmingly hesitant.

Neave immediately understood, “As he said, I can take you all with me. And well, here comes the ‘but.’ You will all have to die eventually. And not just like, in general, you will die inside the realm.”

That was a bitter pill to swallow. The experience of death, even if inconsequential, wasn’t something just anyone could take at face value. Rather, almost nobody could. It was hard to say that was a superior option to being taken hostage, especially after hearing Neave’s description of the nightmare realm. It was even called ‘the nightmare realm!’ That didn’t sound particularly inviting.

Despite the evident distress of everyone else, Hunter looked confused, “Wait… So when you pulled me in there.”

Neave responded with nothing but a blank stare.

Surprisingly, Hunter didn’t seem upset, “I see.”

There was no time to pick this dumb kid's brain, Neave thought as he turned to the others, “Look, I would love to debate this with you all, but we are running out of time. I’m sorry, okay, I got you all into deep shit, and I apologize. Now hurry the fuck up. You all have to choose. If you join me in the nightmare realm, I can promise you that you will leave as different people. Ones that may or may not stand a chance of escaping this situation. Now, raise your hands. Who wants to join me?”

Marven objected, “Neave, this isn’t…”

“Look, old man, it is the way it is. You have to choose because time is running out.”

Neave pulled a small, purple monster core out of his dimension ring, rounded it up, and placed it into a cup he filled with his blood, “I’m going to take another spirit power before I enter the realm. You all have until I’m done to choose.”

“That isn’t going to take more than ten seconds!”

“Precisely.” Neave swallowed the liquid, and his gaze lost focus.

Marven looked distressed. He felt urgency building up and thought he should hurry to convince the others to enter the realm. However, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to join the realm himself. As he wasted precious seconds pondering the dilemma, to his immense surprise, everyone had already raised their hands.

Only Dukean looked a little pale.

Marven scoffed and chuckled, “Well, aren’t you eager…?” He felt they were taking the situation too lightly. They were inexperienced and didn’t fully grasp the implications of what they were getting themselves into.

That was what he wanted to think.

Yet, both Dukean and Hunter had already been inside the realm and dared lift their arms again.

I can’t believe I’m still being a coward…

Marven smiled.

Neave opened his eyes, “So, who is going?”

Everyone had already raised their hands.

[The Jester of Apocalypse: Immortality]

[BOOK 2]

[END]

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