The Jester of Apocalypse

Marven looked at the improvized sword, noticing the bending and tearing it had endured after he used the massive technique. It wasn’t a big deal, the blade could last longer, and Dukean could fix it up in seconds if needed.

However, even if he had the Glass Shard, he wasn’t confident he could face this crisis. All they could do was run.

Before their eyes, the demon absorbed piles of limbs and grew with every piece of flesh that sank into its body. What stood before them could only be described as a titan, a giant, three-meter-tall pile of muscle and raw power.

They couldn’t run. They couldn’t fight.

Marven chuckled a bit, “Well… Looks like we won’t be much use against the messenger after all.”

The demon bent forward, preparing itself to move.

Then, a metallic flash descended from above, smashing right into its head and shattering the stone beneath.

The demon stood frozen with a giant sledgehammer stuck in its head, and behind it, they could hear a voice.

“Yo, what the hell, this thing is so tanky! Well, whatever.” The hammer was pulled out, and it swung from the side, landing with a terrifying thud that could be felt in one’s chest.

Then, the hammer swung again, crashing into the other side. The demon flew away a bit and struggled to move.

Neave appeared, spinning the sledgehammer, “This thing is so tough… I can’t use a true strike, either. You guys are too close. Hmmm…” Neave shrugged, then he disappeared, reappearing next to the struggling demon.

And swung the hammer from above, putting some extra strength into it. That was all. It was a simple, straightforward downward swing. Then he did it again and again, repeatedly bashing the broken body of the enemy, leaving behind nothing but a pile of shattered limbs and putrid blood.

“What are you guys…?” Neave looked at his horrified allies, “Pffff—” He clamped his hand to his mouth, but that wasn’t nearly enough to contain it.

Neave cackled uncontrollably, rolling on the ground and pointing at them, “Holy shit! I thought it was only that crazy bastard, but y’all lost your mind too!”

The glass puppet flew from nowhere, dropping Gabrias on the ground beside the others.

Upon his arrival, he was given quite an intense death stare, and Marven stepped forward, “Gabrias… What did you do to us, and why!?” Every word dripped with fury as Marven took another step toward the sweaty Gabrias.

Gabrias didn’t look scared but confused, “What do you mean?”

“You know damn well what I mean!”

Neave laughed even harder in the background, gripping his stomach and rolling around in circles.

Marven pinched his brow and asked, “Why did you take the Glass Shard and leave!?”

Gabrias seemed honestly unsure why he was being asked this question, “To gather leather for a couch, of course.”

The way he said it was genuinely confused, to the point where the others deflated. They couldn’t really stay angry at him. They weren’t much better, either. At least, all of them were warriors, while Gabrias was a damn construction worker.

Rather than remain angry at Gabrias, they all turned to Neave instead.

Neave stopped laughing and got off the ground, but an amused expression was still firmly seared into his face.

Marven couldn’t help but feel conflicted. Was it fair to blame this situation on Neave? Not only was he a child, but he was also in an entirely different league of insane. Marven sighed and deflated a bit.

Harel, however, rushed forward, gripping an obsidian branch that she prepared to stab Neave with.

Neave casually restrained her, and his face lit up with realization, “Uh-oh, someone is feeling stabby! Ah! I get it! I see you are all on your way to adjusting to this place!” He nodded in satisfaction, “Well, you should be more careful. Wandering around will get you killed, but, well…” Neave contemplated a bit, “You aren’t in that much danger yet. I think you would be set with a few better weapons and maybe a couple of spirit powers. Follow me, let’s go and…”

“Neave.” Marven stepped forward, and Neave turned around.

“What is it, old man?” Neave turned around with a slight look of annoyance at being interrupted.

Marven didn’t know what to say. So he didn’t rely on his knowledge. Something within him cracked. What spoke in wisdom’s stead were his emotions, “We can’t go on like this… This place is… It is a nightmare.” He was surprised at how much his breath sped up. His heart felt tight, and it felt like a dam burst open as he continued, “We can’t… We can’t handle this. This is not how people are meant to live. This place is insane. It’s driving us insane, everything is constantly dark and cold, and horrifying creatures lurking in the shadows… Just… Can we…”

“No.” Dukean spoke, and they all turned to face him, “Calm down, Marven.”

Marven gazed at Dukean, eyes bloodshot and wide open, as he forced himself to calm down. As he did, he felt shame set in. How could he crack under pressure like that? Marven considered himself far more resolute than that, yet, a child showed him up.

After looking at everyone, not with amusement or mockery, but with an utterly neutral expression, Neave nodded, “Alright, follow me.”

He started walking back, and everyone followed him, unsure what he was doing. They walked slowly at first, but Neave gradually sped up, and eventually, they found themselves in a large room, the room that held the massive glass brush.

Neave told them to sit down, and he sat before them, observing them individually. They were a mess; sunken eyes, shrunken pupils, caved cheeks, pale skin, skinny bodies, wretched nails, ones that had clearly been bitten and chewed continuously.

He immediately understood what was happening.

Back when he was in the loop, even he needed a break every once in a while. However, he had the privilege of effective immortality, while they didn’t. The more he observed them, the more he felt... Conflicted.

Now… How should he handle this?

Neave nodded at them and told them to wait here a bit.

He left them alone with the glass shrub for a few minutes as he went to one of the sealed chambers.

Phasing through a wall of obsidian, he appeared in the room of slimes. Neave picked up a few slimes and ran back outside.

Once he was next to them, he made a few glass containers. Then, he killed the slimes and poured the goop into one of them.

Several containers later, and with some help from Dukean, Neave had three containers; one of water, one of his own blood, and one of slime. The blood container was massive, yet Neave wasn’t sure it would be enough. He was betting on his peculiar set of powers to help him out a bit.

He grabbed the blood container and repeatedly used alchemy techniques on it, layering incredibly complex methods. Occasionally, he would click his tongue and start from the beginning, as he couldn’t quite do what he was trying to do.

Eventually, however, the blood was processed. A pile of red goop sat on the ground, and the container was left with a somewhat muddled, yellowy liquid.

Neave used countless techniques on this liquid as well, and gradually, it grew more transparent, and the liquid was reduced to a minuscule portion of what it used to be.

Neave dipped his finger into it and licked it, slightly displeased, but he shrugged and decided it was good enough. Neave used a few more techniques on the liquid, but nothing changed visibly.

Then, he turned to the slime and extracted a bit into a smaller cup, where he used a different process, one that the others recognized as the method that transformed slime into a sweet syrup. He seemingly did something else, but nobody remembered the process well enough to notice anything different.

A final container was put forward, where Neave combined all the other liquids.

What was left was a considerable amount of yellow liquid, one that Neave presented to the others.

Marven winced a bit, “Neave, what is this?”

“Why don’t you try it?”

Neave handed them a small glass and told them to just scoop up a bit and drink. Marven was the first to try it and was taken aback and surprised.

“Alcohol!?”

“Yup!” Neave nodded proudly, “I’m glad my blood has decent blood sugar levels. I wasn’t sure if it would be enough.”

Marven lifted an eyebrow as he took a slightly more confident sip, “This is… Extremely strong.” It was a very intense drink. However, he didn’t seem displeased, “It doesn’t taste that bad either. I’ve had worse. What are you planning to do with this?”

Neave grinned, “Go ahead. Drink.”

The others looked confused.

Neave gave them a surprisingly compassionate smile, “I know how you all feel. I was there myself once. I wish I fucking had some booze back then, let me tell you.”

With only a little more hesitation, the others scooped up a glass of the bloody drink. It tasted horrid, but it wasn’t much worse than the water.

Hunter and Dukean looked reluctant, Gabrias looked relaxed as he sipped on the alcohol, and Harel… She was downing a whole glass every few seconds.

Soon enough, the container was empty, and they all lay on the ground, unconscious.

Neave had done something a little sneaky to the slime without them noticing. There was a method that could turn slime into a weak sedative. It was a very obscure alchemy method, and it could barely be used to put a mortal child to sleep, but in large amounts and coupled with alcohol, oh yeah.

It could knock a motherfucker out.

He nodded proudly and let them sleep.

Neave stared at his unconscious allies. He felt… Guilty? After dragging them into the realm, he couldn't help but feel the blame for their condition. Naturally, they had agreed to come in, but it wasn’t much of a choice. Their lives, real lives, were at stake, in no small part due to Neave’s involvement with them. Even though they had agreed to come in...

What they were going through was familiar to Neave. The endless torment of uncertainty couldn’t be tolerated without the occasional escape. He should have been more aware of this, but…

Well, he still believed that it was true they had to get adjusted to this realm. And now… Neave could sense the faint whispers of ambient energy in the air.

It had already passed the threshold.

Monsters would begin growing on their own now, and he Neave didn’t even have to do anything.

That was right. The moment had arrived.

He would show his allies the true power of time.

***

Astrador held a tiny baby gently in his arms, “Time to train again, Sateron.”

The baby spoke in a deep, manly voice, “Yes, Father.” It crawled out of Astrador’s arms and began doing pushups. It could still only do around five thousand. The disapprovement in its father's eyes drove baby Sateron to tears.

“What did I say about crying?”

Sateron silenced himself and pouted, turning away from Astrador.

Astrador rolled his eyes. It was growing quite fast, it seemed. He lamented the price he had to pay to manifest it, but it was likely the only chance he had of kicking those bastards out of this place.

Now, he had to beat the hourglass and kick them out before it was too late.

***

Another demon squirmed, dropping to the ground. Then, it got up and stood contemplatively.

It didn’t go hunt the humans again. This time, it ran in the other direction.

The demon ran, moving through the thick forests. It soon encountered another demon, one it swiftly dispatched and consumed.

It kept running.

Far past mountains, valleys, ravines, abysses, and depressions, it finally reached it.

The enormous, black sea of sludge. Its shores putrid, its depths darker than the abyss. It stepped forward, and bit by bit, its body was submerged in the liquid.

Distant, whispery echoes could be heard all around the abyssal shores.

And deep within, movement shook the waves, hidden, unseen, as the slithering demons swam inside.