The Jester of Apocalypse

Several miles away from the Falken sect, Gabrias was sprinting as fast as he could. He had slipped away ages ago, and luckily nobody had stopped him.

As he rushed as far as he could from the portal, and the insane fight between Neave and the cultivator, he was accompanied by a massive horde of people, all pushing over one another and trampling several others.

Gabrias felt horrible for those caught beneath the crowds, but there was little he could do to help. He would have probably already been among them if he wasn't so tall.

As he rushed through the crowds, he spotted a group of roughly nine cultivators jumping from rooftop to rooftop. They wore colorful robes, although he couldn’t tell any details due to how fast they moved.

He could feel that at least two were on the platinum path.

***

Ilkivir and Neave both barely shot the opening rift a glance before they focused on one another again.

The serpents pouring out of the rift did look rather dangerous, but Ilkivir couldn’t feel any ranked higher than silver. Granted, what looked to be millions of silver-rank serpents was a massive fucking disaster for the capital, but it wasn’t relevant to their fight.

Not yet, at least.

Neave was slightly distracted by the implication of the serpent river. He wanted to rush out there and kill as many as possible, as he knew the fallout of their arrival would surely take far too many lives.

But the man standing before him was way too dangerous to ignore, even in favor of a literal apocalypse.

Neave held his two-handed sword to the side. It looked enormous in contrast to his slight physique, but there were no signs that he was struggling with wielding the weapon. The sword wasn’t made out of a mortal material but of an iron-rank metal called peeliun.

Ironically, ‘iron rank’ metals were many times more valuable than iron.

This sword was no exception. The rank of the weapon wasn’t necessarily too high for Neave’s spirit, although it definitely should have been. His spirit had gotten quite a bit more durable through the repeat process of abuse and recovery, so he wasn’t at all struggling with the spiritual weight.

He could probably use a sword of up to silver rank, given that he no longer had any trouble using dimension rings of the same level. However, using a storage ring and wielding a weapon were entirely different subjects.

If he wanted to use true strikes or even just wield the sword without fumbling it, he had to stay within the range of what his spirit could fully handle.

He regretted not making a sword when he had the opportunity. Even a blade of bare iron could drastically outperform this weapon if he used another gigantic monster core.

Neave readied the weapon and stared his opponent down. Ilkivir raised the sword toward Neave and looked ready to strike.

“You fools!”

There were several men and women dressed up in colorful clothing. The women wore frilly robes, and the men wore brightly colored robes with heavy floral motifs. The two warriors turned slightly to see who among them was talking to them.

Neave’s eyes widened as he recognized Maecy standing in their midst. He had chosen to disguise his hair color in case he had to enter a dangerous conflict. He didn’t bother changing his height or modifying his body. All he wanted was to avoid having someone make the connection between him, the unhinged demon child, and the young master of the Falken sect.

The rift in the sky felt like serious trouble to his spirit senses. He would not face whatever it could produce without fighting at his best, and anything besides his unaltered body compromised his total power.

An aggressively masculine man stood in front and shouted at them. His jawline was so thick he looked like he could drink molten metal through a straw, and every part of the human body that grew hair, even some that usually didn’t, was covered in thick, black fur.

“You dare fight amongst one another when such a disaster transpires right before you! You should be ashamed of yourselves!”

A blonde-haired woman approached the man and smacked him on his head.

“You silly idiot! Can’t you tell that this man is attacking that child? Instead of yelling, you should go and help him!”

“Shit! You’re right! You there, in the red armor!” He lifted a relatively thin sword and pointed it at Ilkivir, “My name is Levon, and I demand you explain yourself!”

The woman smacked him on the back of his head again and groaned.

“Stop wasting time, you dummy!” She turned and charged at Ilkivir at full speed.

Ilkivir raised his sword and readied himself to attack the woman. She hesitated a bit when she felt the intense power coming from the attack. The cultivators behind her screamed, and the black sword came down with the force and despair of a collapsing mountain of corpses.

Suddenly, Neave appeared before her and blocked the attacking sword with his hand. The blade sank halfway into his arm and got lodged between the bones in his forearm.

“That trick won’t work again, child!” A burst of black aura suddenly enveloped the sword, and Neave’s arm began disintegrating.

The woman couldn’t believe her eyes. She had completely misread the situation and now didn’t know what to think.

She noticed that she couldn’t feel the ‘child’s’ cultivation. She assumed he was nothing more than a young disciple, primarily due to the shoddy sword.

But judging by the power of the red armored man’s attack and the fact that the child managed to block, even if at the cost of his arm, this must be someone rather far down the path.

She gritted her teeth and cursed herself. This must be a spirit beast in human form. Probably a cultivator from one of the more prominent sects. She had never heard of someone with this much power and such a peculiar form, but the capital was a massive place.

And now, this cultivator had sacrificed a limb to save her life because of her stupidity.

She prepared herself to repay the favor by flanking the red-armored man. Even though she was clueless about the details of the fight, it was evident that the scary red man with spiky demon armor and cursed black mist wasn’t the hero of this fight.

Levon tackled her as she prepared herself to flank him and take a shot at a tiny opening she saw in his armor, just in time for a massive spike covered in dark mist to fire out of the man’s armor right where she would have been.

The snakes finally arrived at their location. The others from their group looked hesitant. Clearly, this red-armored man was up to no good.

However, it wasn’t clear whether fighting him was a priority over handling the outpouring of snakes. Suddenly, another man crawled out of a pile of nearby debris.

It was Marven. He looked beaten up, and it was clear to anyone with spirit senses that he was struggling with a severe imbalance in his spirit. He pushed through it with gritted teeth and ran toward the unconscious Harel and Hunter.

He spotted the hesitant cultivators observing the intense clash between Neave and Ilkivir. A deep anger bubbled from within, and he screamed out.

“You heavensdamned idiots! Go fucking help him out!” Marven pulled a small pill from his dimension ring and swallowed it.

He didn’t want to leave Neave behind, but a stray monster would likely kill Hunter or Harel if he engaged in the fight. He had witnessed first-hand what Neave was capable of, however. He would have to put his faith in him.

A bright blaze burned within his eyes as he lifted Hunter over his shoulders and grabbed Harel by her waist.

It didn’t matter if he risked death. He would have Neave remove his spirit powers and provide him with new ones. Marven would never again let himself be useless in a fight with his children's lives in danger.

Neave thrust his sword at the opening in Ilkivirs armor, but the spikes kept intercepting the blade. Rather than let the edge get caught up and redirected, Neave thrust in and out of the opening, weaving and shifting his sword around the spikes. After a few hundred attempts, or less than three seconds of attacking, the points had already covered up the opening in the armor.

Neave grinned. Suddenly, an intense burst of life force enveloped his sword, which shot out toward the armor, not at the spiky barricade but right beside it.

The spikes had to be made of something, and the only material they could pull from was the neighboring metal that made up the armor.

His sword flew at what had now become a relatively thin metal sheet. As it approached the armor, all it could afford to defend itself were tiny little spikes that the flood of life force pushed aside. The sword tip smashed full force into the sheet yet barely broke through the red armor.

That was good enough in Neave’s book. He released an intense flood of life energy directly into Ilkivir’s body.

He screamed in pain and pulled his sword back.

All the surrounding cultivators gaped in shock as they witnessed Neave’s arm grow back out in less than a few seconds.

Marven, rather than run away, spotted the opening. There was a third spirit power he possessed. It was a feeble one, at least compared to his other two.

Invisible blades.

They could do little to cultivators of his rank, not to mention that anyone at the golden path could easily perceive them, but they were perfect for theatrics and putting the fear of the heavens into someone disobedient.

And they just happened to be perfect for a quick surprise attack.

He focused with all the willpower he could still conjure and a small invisible blade. Marven sent the edge flying at incredible speed right toward Ilkivir’s face. Ilkivir perceived it just as it was about to strike.

The invisible blade clattered against the red armor, failing to leave anything more than a scratch—except for a crucial moment of distraction. One that Neave immediately capitalized on by sending a life-force-imbued kick to Ilkivir’s stomach.

Ilkivir went flying, and Marven yelled again.

“Go now!”

The cultivators hesitated, but the circumstances pulled them along, and they rushed at Ilkivir.

Marven turned around and ran, the unconscious Harel and Hunter in tow.

A whirlwind of colorful attacks flew at Ilkivir. Most of them were brushed aside as spikes grew to meet them. Two among the newly arrived cultivators pulled bows out of their dimension ring, while the others used the longest range techniques they could manage.

The blonde woman and the macho man weren’t amateurs, however. They might act like fools occasionally, but when fighting, they wielded the power and experience of second-step platinum path cultivators.

Among the others in the group, there were no more platinum path cultivators, but almost all of them were at the third step of the golden path, except for a woman on the second step.

While ilkivir dealt with most of the attacks with no problem, the heavy hitters could at least temporarily claim his focus. Purple snakes jumped and coiled around the cultivators, but none were strong enough to put any of them at risk.

The cultivators all paused for a moment as Neave rushed at Ilkivir again. They gaped as they witnessed him repeatedly pummel away at the armored man, putting so much life force into his attacks that their mere residual contained more life force than a cultivator on the iron path.

Neave’s sword was quickly bent out of shape, so he used another. This one was bigger, but he attacked too aggressively and shattered it in a single blow.

Next up, Neave didn’t even bother with another sword. He pulled a massive sledgehammer out of the dimension ring. As he charged another attack, the impact sent a titanic shockwave through the ground, and Ilkivir found himself struggling against the momentum of Neave’s earth-shattering blow.

Neave wondered why he didn’t just use the sledgehammer from the start. Suddenly, blood poured out of Ilkivirs armor and covered his entire body. As the blood turned to mist, Neave gaped.

Ilkivir was gone.

As he felt where he had appeared in his spirit senses, Neave cursed himself.

Ilkivir appeared behind one of the colorful cultivators and beheaded them. The others screamed and wailed as they watched their comrade’s lifeless body fall. Then they froze in terror as they witnessed it dissolve and flow into Ilkivir’s armor.

Neave’s crystal heart pounded so hard he could feel his veins cracking under stress.

What am I doing?

Why was he struggling to deal with this man? He thought he was above this.

Neave watched Ilkviir suddenly regain a lot of his strength. It was apparent that whatever he was doing had even more severe consequences than what Neave did to boost his power. That didn’t change the fact that he was still a massive threat.

Even if Ilkivir died from his hubris, it didn’t matter if Neave and many others died.

This is what power does to them. This is what power does to sentient beings. It drives them to depravity and evil. I can not permit this to continue. It should all be annihilated.

This is why it should all be exϮinguiϩheÞd.

Ilkivir charged another person. He ran at Maecy. The blonde woman and macho man rushed as fast as they could to stop him, but Neave stood frozen. Everything flowed slowly, and the scenario played out in slow motion.

That woman…

She could become evil as—ÞÞÞÞÞÞÞ ÞÞÞÞÞ no.

No.

She wouldn’t.

Yes, she wo–

ÞÞÞÞÞÞ

No she fucking wo–ÞÞÞÞÞÞ

But the bet. Had she not demanded my life in servitude?

What kind of righteous person wished for ownership over another’s lif ÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞ

It was a bet. I could have refuseÞÞÞÞÞÞ

I am clearly a child, though. Even when pretending to be a little older. She pressured someone younger by putting them on the spot and betting on their naivety. That is insidiuÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞ

But she is little more than a child herself. ÞÞÞÞ

No, that is a weak excuse. She has too much power not to be aware of the implications of what she did. ÞÞÞÞÞÞ

But am I aware of the implications of what I’m doing? What about Gabrias? Hadn’t I practically enslaved him? ÞÞÞ

That is– ÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞ

No, no, I’m pretty sure that counts. Besides, the more I think about it, the less it sounds like a big deal. She wanted me to become a slave, but what did that mean? Perhaps she just wanted to secure me for her sect as a genius of the younger generation or whatever…

Besides…

Who is interfering with my thoughts?

…

ÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞ

No, I don’t think so.

Neave looked at the two cultivators running beside him. These two rushed to save someone’s life. The blonde woman had even thrown herself at an opponent of unknown strength to protect a random child.

Neave thought of Marven and how he at least tried to be better. He thought of the intelligent young man he had met in the library. He thought of the vermin that challenged him to–ÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞ

No. Enough.

It was true and evident that not everyone was perfect or even a good person. All had the potential to be evil. But everyone also had the potential to be good.

He was very sure of one thing, however—some people still needed to die.

A layer of life force slowly wrapped around Neave’s body. An intense surge of fire rushed from within his lungs and spread throughout his veins. Pink lightning crackled around him as it charged up in his nerves and tensed his muscles.

He took an unbelievably quick step forward, another, and another. Neave jumped, landed, and appeared in Ilkivir’s way.

Ilkivir’s eyes shot open at Neave’s sudden appearance.

Neave took a stance, and another layer of life force wrapped around his body. Then he wrapped yet another one.

Neave’s body began glowing with a subtle pink light as layer after layer settled, gradually glaring with a red blaze. His entire body chipped and cracked under the intense power, life force gushing out of his body, escaping and slipping through his grip as he reached capacity.

Neave pushed past that capacity. He willed his life force to remain right where it was. As it tried slipping away yet again, Neave persevered.

He shifted his stance. The air around him whistled in a resonant screech as golden runes appeared. Then those golden runes shattered and vanished. They appeared again, but to no avail. Every time Neave tried to trigger the true strike, it refused to couple with the intense surge of life force.

So he gave up. The life force he had built up would have to be enough.

But it won’t be.

Neave needed more offensive capability. The deep, guttural hatred toward the man before him needed to be sated. Anger boiled within Neave as he remembered the hordes of the innocent this man had disposed of for a temporary power-up.

No.

Neave shifted his stance again. The golden runes appeared in the air again. They shimmered and flickered, yet again looking like they were about to shatter. Ethereal cracks spread through the runes in the air, reaching ever closer to collapse.

Something shifted within Neave’s spirit. A pulse of something strange traveled through his life force, colors whirling and coiling into a thread that wrapped around reality. 

Neave heard countless monstrous screams echoing through his life force, and the influence of the creatures he had slaughtered felt as alive as the day he had swallowed them whole.

Thin tendrils of life force shot out toward the golden runes floating in the air, and the runes began multiplying.

As Neave solidified his stance, countless crimson-red runes surrounded his body.