The Jester of Apocalypse

Sateron backed away from the demonic entity, scoffing at it, “Talk!? You believe I have any reason to speak to a demon such as yourself?”

The demon chuckled a bit, almost sadly, “I am not a demon, Sateron… I’m a monster.”

“How do you know my name!? And whether you’re a monster or a demon, it doesn’t matter to me. You’re a beast, a horrid abomination that should be purged from existence!”

The demonic monster before him smiled and said, “Perhaps you are right. Well, if you have no desire to speak, then I shall be on my way.” And with that, it turned away and started walking into the distance.

Sateron stared at the creature's back as it slowly walked away. His heartbeat sped up for some reason, and he could not resist calling for it, “Wait!”

The monster turned around and looked at him with its eyebrows raised, “What is it?”

“I… State your business!”

“Is that permission to talk?”

Sateron frowned and spat, “Say what you intend to, creature, and do not play with me.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll speak.” The monster sat on the ground, legs crossed, and looked up at Sateron, “I am a nameless being who had only recently come to life. For reasons that are beyond my comprehension… I remembered.”

“You remembered what?”

“Figments, flashes of some of our many lives.”

That made Sateron pause, “I do not know what lives you speak of, beast.”

“Figures… Of course Astrador wouldn’t tell you something like that.”

That made Saterons eyebrows shoot up as he marched onward, grabbing the creature by its neck and lifting it into the air, “What did you say!?”

Rather than respond immediately, the monster gazed at him coldly, waiting for him to calm down.

Eventually, Sateron scoffed, throwing the creature to the ground, “Do not speak to me of the Great God.”

“I know he had abandoned you.”

Sateron spun around and yelled, lashing out at it, “What the hell do you know!? You are a mere beast, a being spun to life by the machinations of vile entities! I do not care for your ploys any longer. Feel free to leave, and better hurry while you’re at it.”

Rather than move, the monster merely lay on the ground, unmoving.

The young diamond path cultivator spun again, lashing out further, “Did you not hear me!? I said leave!”

The creature, to Sateron’s immense surprise… Teared up, “I… I was forced into being, forced to remember what it was like being a person. And I found myself in a cold, empty void. I thought you would be a kindred spirit… I thought, at least, you would understand…”

Sateron couldn’t help but pause at that, but he quickly regained himself, “Tch! Don’t try selling some sappy nonsense to me, you vile thing. How would you know that the Great God had abandoned me if not through untoward means?”

“I admit… What I have been doing isn’t very honorable.” It chuckled slightly and sat up, lifting itself back to its feet, “I have been observing you from afar, Sateron.”

“I would have noticed you.”

“Really…? No offense, but I believe I am more powerful than you.”

Sateron wanted to refute that, but he still vividly remembered being stopped just a few minutes ago, “So what? Don’t think I’ll buy your story. Be it demon or monster, you are nothing but a vile, corrupt creature whose existence shouldn’t be tolerated!”

“And why do you think that?”

“Because I…” Sateron paused.

“I’m not sure where you’ve learned that or how, but… Frankly, your assessment makes no sense to me. I do not have any malicious intent toward you, yet all you have shown me from the moment I arrived is extreme hostility! Where do you even get the idea that I’m some vile creature that is to be slain!?”

Sateron wanted to say that it was obvious... However… Everything he knew about… Well, anything, came directly from Astrador. All of his knowledge, every bit of his… Being had come from the Great God.

There was still a vast reverence, a deep, built-in desire to worship the Great God. And it made sense. Was it not logical to be reverent toward Astrador? Did it not make sense to praise and devote oneself to his cause?

As he caught himself thinking this, he froze. Did it? However, didn’t he revoke the Great God? Hadn’t he abandoned his cause?

A sudden, powerful headache flashed through his mind, and Sateron blanked out, losing consciousness on the spot.

***

Neave sat beside Xurbon, observing the bout.

Everyone was in the combat chamber, fighting in a free for all spar.

Harel smashed her spiked ball into Hunter’s shield, and he managed to hold it in place. An arrow from Gabrias forced Harel to dodge, while a flick of Dukean’s wrist sent his sword at Gabrias at that very moment.

He dodged most of the strike, but the blade still cut his forearm, forcing him to retreat. Marven sent a massive blow Dukean’s way, and the boy had to dodge out of the way while building an ice barrier to at least partially deflect the blow.

Their sparring was rather brutal. Neave had both provided them with jewelry that enhanced regeneration and had plenty of pills and potions prepared in case of injury.

They got injured rather frequently. The fight wasn’t merely brutal, but it was also wildly unfair. Hunter technically had two weapons, Dukean had spirit powers, and Marven knew countless techniques for his weapon of choice.

The point of the fight wasn’t to see who was the strongest or decide any one victor. It was simply a chaotic bout that was as much about hitting as it was about getting hit.

Marven was instructing everyone on how to use the wayfarer’s authority. The main requirement was to become familiar with what you wanted, or rather, needed in combat when wielding your weapon.

Wayfarer’s authority wasn’t strictly limited, in the sense that it could only be used so much, but once used, one either had to cultivate further or wait a long time to use it again.

So when creating a technique, one had to use it sparingly, to say the least.

Neave glanced at Xurbon, and it glanced back, gently smiling. It had told them about the unusual activity at the borders of its influence, but in the end, it wasn’t anything they didn’t already know.

Something, either the demons, Astrador, or both, was slithering around the outer borders.

Unsurprising, as Neave was already aware that they weren’t merely sitting dormant.

Eventually, Neave bid the others farewell as he went to his workshop.

It had been rebuilt once again, and Neave was starting to wonder whether creating labs was becoming something of a hobby of his.

This one was much closer to the main chamber this time, although it was heavily fortified.

The instant Neave entered the workshop, his vision darkened, and he fell to the ground. His fist shot out at immense speed and struck directly into the side of his head.

The impact shook him awake, and his slightly wounded head rapidly recovered.

“Holy shit, that was close…” He breathed out a sigh of relief.

It was getting far, far worse now. The call of sleep had been somewhat postponed after Neave fused his spirit powers. Some of the fatigue had vanished once he removed the spiritual pressure.

However, it wasn’t long until it returned, and it was gradually getting worse.

They needed more time. The others hadn’t even begun creating any unique techniques, and there was so much more he wanted to learn before leaving.

Yet, they may not have a choice in the matter. Neave falling asleep was something that could have disastrous consequences.

And if he truly reached the point where he could no longer resist it, he had already decided that would be the moment they left the nightmare realm.

In his workshop, Neave approached a large containment chamber. The shadow of a gigantic humanoid creature could be seen within.

This thing packed some serious power, and as it spotted Neave, it roared and slammed at the barricade that was keeping it trapped.

The creature inside there was a mutated ogre. Its head was sort of like that of a very toothy frog, and it was somewhat hunched. This didn’t detract from its power in the slightest.

The entire workshop shook, and the creature seriously threatened to break out with every strike.

Neave already had four avatars.

The first was the mule avatar, which was only temporary, as he didn’t need such an avatar once he was back outside.

The second was the slime. The third was a sort of centaur, extremely heavily armored, yet it could move incredibly fast, and it wielded a gigantic halberd that held horrific power.

The fourth was a tiny, skinny humanoid wielding a dagger in its left and a shortsword in its right hand. It could move insanely quickly, and the dagger held a potent poison power.

All of these played an essential and unique role in Neave’s repertoire. He still wanted a ranged attacker and a creature to be fully dedicated to restraining powerful enemies.

But with this ogre… Neave wanted only one thing.

Destruction. This would be a gigantic avatar equipped with a titanic sledgehammer.

Once back out, Neave would almost certainly lose these avatars and have to make new ones. He didn’t mind that too much. The slime would be a bit of a loss, but frankly, it was the easiest of the bunch to recreate.

He had already tried making a giant avatar seven times. Each time, he utterly fucked it up.

The other two were also decent, but he had countless ideas to improve them. Once back out, he would easily create significantly more powerful avatars than these, but experimentation was essential to figure out how to do it properly first.

Neave yet again readied the contraption.

Numerous needles appeared out of every wall of the containment chamber. Each needle held a gigantic ball of spirit within.

As he pulled a lever, every single one of the needles fired into the mutant ogre, and it screamed bloody murder. Yet, the needles barely even scratched its skin.

However, once the last one stuck, the ogre collapsed, dead. The purple avatar instantly appeared from inside a hidden compartment and possessed its body.

Indeed. With nearly no damage to the ogre’s body, Neave found a way to shatter its core.

It was brutally difficult to set up, required a bit of luck, and needed an opponent with at least somewhat soft skin, but it allowed him to acquire a nearly perfect body right off the get-go.

Now… It was only a question of how he would fuck it up this time.

***

Sateron woke up with his mind reeling.

What happened…?

He barely remembered anything from before he lost consciousness. Suddenly, he jolted upward and looked around in terror.

The monster sat close to him, and he quickly made his way as far from it as possible.

It smiled at him with a hint of sadness and asked, “Are you alright?”

It took a while for Sateron to realize that he must have spent a while completely unconscious next to this creature… Yet, it hadn’t as much as touched him, it seemed.

After some contemplation, he realized what had happened and clicked his tongue.

It seemed Astrador had built certain safety mechanisms directly into his brain. If he questioned the will of the Great God, it would trigger and kill him.

At least, that’s what he felt… But how? How hadn’t it triggered already, then? And why hadn’t it killed him?

The monster coughed a bit and said apologetically, “I… I'm sorry, but I fiddled with your body a bit.”

Sateron immediately realized what the monster meant. Whatever it had done had saved his life.

“Oh, I… I see.”

An awkward silence settled between the two of them, and Sateron, after much effort, gathered the bravery to banish it, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“I have treated you like some sort of nemesis from the moment you approached me, but it truly seems you have no ill intent.”

“There is no point in apologizing for that. After all, how could something pushed directly into your brain be your fault?”

That made sense to Sateron, but he refused to accept it, “No, it still is. Perhaps this is my stubbornness, but I can’t accept that I made those decisions entirely without agency. No matter what has been forced on me, I can’t deny that I can independently reason and think for myself.”

“That makes sense. I want to believe the same things, as well.”

There was a wistfulness to the monster’s words. Sateron looked at it, suddenly seeing it in a new light. At first, its grey skin, bald head, and black eyes revolted him, but as he got used to looking at those features, he found them far less appalling than they had been initially.

“What’s your name?”

It chuckled a bit, “I could pick one of the many names I used to have. But I believe it would be greedy of me. None of them belong to me alone.”

“I see…” Sateron wanted to ask what it meant by that but felt a certain hesitation as he thought of it. He didn’t know why, but he felt that prying too much would be… Insensitive.

The creature looked at Sateron, and the intent to speak briefly flashed in its expression, but it was quickly replaced by a hesitant frown and a shake of its head.

Sateron raised an eyebrow, “Is there something you want to say?”

“There are many things I want to say… And just as many reasons not to say them.”

So, they continued sitting in silence. A silence that stretched on far too long. Sateron was utterly lost as to what to do. There was nothing he really wanted or dared to say.

Before he could think of something, the creature spoke instead. It wasn’t anything special. It merely spoke of what it had seen. It asked him about the monsters, glass bushes, about the Great God.

Astrador listened to it and answered its questions. Soon enough, he shared how he had been sent on a mission and spoke of his failure.

It gave him its sympathy. As he spoke of the people he had met, it seemed wistful, almost as if it wanted to meet those people for itself.

Sateron was surprised at how much admiration came from his words as he spoke of them. He barely knew them, yet, he had been left with the impression that they were awe-inspiring individuals. Perhaps it was merely the lack of human contact or having nobody to contrast them to but vague memories of what was normal on the outside.

It was striking just how much he related to this creature. It was without any real goals, stuck in a realm of nightmares and darkness, hoping to find any hint of light it could.

A morbid disgust at the creature's presence reemerged within him yet again. It felt lost, just as he was, and he couldn’t bear to see himself in it the way he did.

After all, all he really wanted to do was to put it out of its misery. Did that mean he wanted to kill himself as well?

Sateron laughed, and the monster looked at him weirdly, “Is something funny?”

His laughter sounded crazed, and he barely calmed himself down enough to speak, “Do you… Do you believe in life inside this realm?”

Without hesitation, the creature shook its head, “I have memories… Of a distant place, one outside. Of green pastures, of harsh yet rewarding life in the countryside. The life of a merchant that dwelled in the cities and a traveler that explored the lands. I believe that is what it means to live. This place… It is barren of any of it.”

Sateron nodded, “Indeed. We are truly similar. I think the same way, and I have memories of the outside that do not belong to me.”

The monster wanted to say something again, but it stopped itself.

Sateron snorted, “Just say it. I don’t know what it is, but I can’t see why you would care enough to stop yourself.”

“I believe there is a way out of this place.”

Sateron froze. He shook as he barely made himself speak again, “Are you… Do you speak the truth?”

“I believe there might be, but I do not have any evidence. If I knew for sure, I would have already left.”

In a blind rage, Sateron jumped the monster, grabbing it by the shoulders and shaking it wildly, “Where is it!? Bring me to it at once!”

“I… Please stop shaking me!”

Sateron released his grip and stepped back, “I’m… Never mind that. Where is it?”

“... Follow me.”

***

The monster stood beside Sateron, and they gazed at the endless, roiling ocean of black tar.

“...This is the exit?”

“I do not know. However, I have seen many creatures walk into it, and none have returned.”

Sateron chuckled, and swiftly, his laughter turned to tears, “Then… It's just as likely they had all perished as it is that they had left. I’d say even more likely.”

“Perhaps…”

“Perhaps that is the way out.” Sateron dropped to his knees and grabbed a handful of the sticky substance, “Hey… You agree that nothing is waiting for us here, right?”

Hesitantly, the monster nodded.

“Then let's take a chance. Either we perish, or we leave. I am perfectly at peace with either possibility.”

“Are you certain…? What if there…”

“What? What if there is what?” Sateron looked at the monster, “I wish I didn’t know of the outside. If I didn’t, I could settle for living here, at least trying to. But… I can’t continue like this.” He grabbed another handful of the black ooze, and the monster knelt beside him.

They kneeled in silence until, finally, Sateron got up, “Do you want to go in at the same time?”

The monster nodded.

Soon enough, they stepped toward the roiling ocean and gradually sank into it. Step by step, they sank deeper into the ooze, and eventually, they found themselves wholly submerged.

ҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾ

Sateron felt countless tendrils wrapping around his body as he was rapidly dragged into the depths. He fought with all his might but simply couldn’t muster enough resistance. Until, finally…

ҾҾҾҾҾҾ

***

The demonic creature crawled back out of the black ooze, cackling, “Hahaha… Hahahahahaha. Hahahahahahahahahaha! You naive little godspawn. Worry not. I promise you, you will find yourself outside soon enough.”

As it straightened its back, numerous monsters popped out of the black ooze, many similar in shape and size to itself but some far more monstrous and deformed.

“Now, that bastard is looking to kick them out, huh…? Well, if the Jester is to be removed…”

“It will be done on our terms.”