The Jester of Apocalypse

Neave found himself back in the nightmare realm. He didn’t know how much time passed in this realm when he was awake. Did it pass at all? Surely it did. Whenever he left and came back, it was clear that a certain amount of time had passed. He could conclude this because there were many more/fewer of those corrupt demons.

When he took Hunter inside, he encountered some, although surprisingly few. He defeated them in the time it took Hunter to wake up.

This time, there were none. There was nothing. Nothing but pure silence and bone-chilling cold.

Initially, Neave approached this realm with the same assumption he carried over from the hell loop. Death inside had no consequences on the outside.

Now, he was no longer so sure.

Something was manipulating his mind, and that something wanted him to visit the underground chamber.

Neave didn’t want to go down there.

He needed to know, however. 

It was somewhat lucky that this nightmare realm made it so he didn’t dream anymore. Because if he dreamt, he would dream of the underground chamber. What were the things in there? Were they just the statues? What did they do to him?

Ever since he realized something was off with his thoughts, his mind had been spiraling down an undesirable path, one that he squashed with all his might and forcefully kept from resurfacing.

There was no good answer to any of the questions he wanted to ask, and he had many questions.

Neave didn’t run there. Instead, he walked slowly and carefully, watching his surroundings.

Crack.

Neave turned around. His heart was beating out of his chest. Was that a noise? It was probably just another demon. Right?

Neave looked in the direction of the sound but found nothing. He kept looking around him as he walked. Every once in a while, he felt like he saw a shadow move or heard another sound, but it was probably his imagination.

He didn’t sense anything, and his perception was incredibly powerful. Nothing should be able to sneak close to him at all. Nothing… Should… be able to.

What if it could?

Neave stopped. He focused on the thick obsidian brush, peering into and through it, trying to find any signs of creatures moving in the darkness. There was nothing there. He thought he occasionally saw something move in his peripheral vision but could clearly see nothing.

What if his perception just wasn’t enough?

Neave wanted to sink into his perception spirit power and evolve it. It came from a bird-type monster. It couldn’t fly, not really, since the core originated from a semi-abominid. The creature had three wings and misshapen talons, so it couldn’t fly.

However, there was always the possibility of it evolving into something that could reach him. The power was currently at roughly platinum rank.

This was fine since the bird died in the acid eventually, but if Neave evolved it further, it would likely become a diamond-rank threat. Flying ability or not, such a threat could easily make it to the top of the mountain and obliterate him.

Neave couldn’t fight a diamond-rank threat even with all his spirit powers, let alone in a spirit trial where he had none.

That wasn’t the real reason he was hesitating to evolve his powers. Rather, he felt severely uncomfortable dropping his guard for even a second. Usually, if he died, it would be no big deal.

But now? He no longer felt that death here was inconsequential.

He started doubting the validity of his perception power. He found nothing, no matter where he looked, yet he could swear he saw things moving.

Why did he come in here? He was so stupid. How could he have been so foolish to even drag Hunter inside? What if Hunter also got his mind manipulated?

Actually, who gave a shit about that, right?

…

But what if…?

Nothing felt certain anymore. Not his thoughts, not his decisions, not his history. Did he truly experience what he remembers experiencing in the hell loop? So much happened in the hell loop he was confident he didn’t remember all of it. He couldn’t.

What if other things had happened back then? What if the hell loop wasn’t even real in the first place? What if he originally appeared here, inside this nightmare realm, and had his mind manipulated to think he had experienced an eternity of torture?

No, that would be absurd… The memories of the loop were in his soul, his core spirit. That wasn’t something that anything could manipulate directly.

But did it have to be manipulated directly?

What if someone manipulated his mind first, and then some power beyond his understanding settled the memories in his soul?

Crack.

Neave turned around again. He heard a faint crack, a very indistinct sound. It was so quiet it could have just been the obsidian bush crackling randomly. Or could it? Do these bushes do that on their own?

Neave stared at where the crack came from. Shadows wiggled at the edges of his vision, but he refused to look away. He kept his gaze straight toward where he heard the sound coming from.

He didn’t blink. His eyes would have dried out if he didn’t have his vast collection of spirit powers. For hours he merely stood there and stared at that one spot.

Crack.

He heard another sound again, but he didn’t turn around. He didn’t let himself be distracted. Then he heard yet another sound. Footsteps? No, footsteps all around him.

These were an illusion. He knew there was nothing there. The shadows wiggled deceitfully, stealing his attention from the one spying on him. They were precisely where Neave was looking. He was sure they were just too scared to move. Too frightened of the consequences of revealing themselves to him.

That must be it.

Crack.

Those were just distractions. There was nothing there.

Something cut into Neave’s back. He turned and came face to face with another demon. Neave screamed and off-loaded every single attack he could. The destruction spread through the landscape as he vaporized the demon's body.

He stood in a crater, one of his making, breathing heavily, fire and smoke leaving his mouth. His heart beat wildly, and his hands shook.

Was that it? Was that the thing looking at me?

No. That couldn’t have been it. That was just a regular demon. How did it sneak up on him like that? If an ordinary demon could just walk up to him, couldn’t the thing stalking him run circles around him if it wanted? If he was truly as blind as this, couldn’t anyone easily avoid his detection?

No, that wasn’t the case. Was it? The shadows were squirming again. Rather than ignore it like a fool, Neave attacked them repeatedly, crashing the bushes and obliterating the stone beneath.

He blew his fire breath in all directions, seeking to reveal the slithering stalker hiding in the shadows.

There was nothing.

Not even a stray demon was hiding in the shadows.

Could Neave be both too blind and too weak to reveal them?

He found himself standing again. He stared at the darkness around him, this time hearing constant crackling and snapping. Which of these were from his attacks, and which were from the stalker? He couldn’t tell.

As time went on, Neave felt fatigue setting in. He was tired from constantly keeping his attention heightened. How much time must have passed if he felt exhausted from just looking?

Neave slapped himself. He was being ridiculous. There was no stalker here. It was all in his mind.

Was that his own thought?

Yes, it was, right? Right? Right? 

Right?

“Hahaha… Hahahahahaha. HAHAHAHAHA!” Neave laughed as he slapped himself repeatedly.

It was so funny. Reality wasn’t even objective anymore. Nothing was real. He had lived a life of lies and deceit, unable to tell his thoughts and experiences apart from what was shoved into his head by something else.

Was he even real? What if the hell loop never even happened in the first place? Could he just be sitting in the library, reading books?

No, then everything would make sense. This was ridiculous. Nightmare realms when he fell asleep? Unlimited spirit powers? Declared a hero of the capital? It all felt so fake and imaginary that he couldn’t believe he ever fell for it.

Neave wanted to wake up. He wanted to rid himself of these illusions and fabrications, the fake reality that was created for him, constructed entirely in his mind.

He knew what he had to do. Yes, it made sense. It finally all made sense. The underground chamber. The thing manipulating him didn’t want him to go down there. It manipulated him into doing the opposite of what he wanted, no, of what he needed to do. Because it was a liar.

So if it wanted him to go down there, it clearly didn’t want him to.

Neave wouldn’t fall for such a crappy trick. He would no longer be deceived.

He ran through the obsidian forests and over the ruined landscape. He knew exactly where the entrance to the underground chamber was. It wasn’t far from here. He could reach it in minutes.

He could already smell it. It was becoming more real. The reality around him settled, and he knew he was freeing himself from this curse. It wouldn’t be long until he lifted the veil of lies and deceit.

He could see the entrance to the cave. Things were moving inside there again. But he wouldn’t be tricked. This was clearly just another hallucination. A plain-looking man took measured steps and walked out of the cave.

Neave grinned ear to ear.

Laughable. Who would fall for such a trick? What’s next, a literal clown would walk out as well?

Who would…?

Who…

Neave stopped.

The man looked plain, normal by all means and measures. He had black hair, cut short and neat. His face wasn’t attractive, per se, but it wasn’t unattractive either. He wore a simple linen tunic and leather pants.

He looked like nothing but another peasant or civilian.

The man walked out of the cave, waving to Neave amicably with a pleasant smile.

“Hey, kid! Don’t look so scared. I won’t hurt you!”

Although ordinary, by all means, one characteristic wasn’t normal at all.

It didn’t feel like an illusion. Neave knew it wasn’t just because it was convincing.

No.

In the deepest depths of his soul, Neave knew what this man was. He felt something similar when he first encountered the tome that sent him to the hell loop. This overwhelmingly reminded him of that feeling, but there was one core difference.

This was the human equivalent of that impression.

Because the man standing in front of him…

Was a god.