The Jester of Apocalypse

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. He couldn’t help but laugh. 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.

He 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 mutually connected 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!”

He was interrupted by frenzied yelling coming from outside the room. He willed the air to move, and a small gust of wind blew the candle out, rustling some papers.

Dukean walked over to an empty patch of 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…!”

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

“A heavenly messenger had 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 in every way, 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. My name is Hosolar. 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 may 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 have titled the lost child still walks among you! For what reason has he faked his death? Because he is noble. He is brave, courageous, and righteous. Heroes among the living get wealth and reward, true, but they seize to be a symbol of 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 get!?

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.

He had shown off quite a bit in his young master form, even in the library.

Enough… Enough for even Dukean to make the connection that he was the lost child.

He had gone to the Onyx Scorpion sect when they first arrived here. There, he had introduced himself as their neighbor. Marven had sold the plot of land they had back then, and their new sect location was public knowledge.

How long would it take them to make the connection that he belonged to the Falken sect?

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 was 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.

Neave should be praised as a hero.

Yet, he couldn’t take another step. All he had to do was run. The odds weren’t too strongly 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!? Rejoice! Haven't you heard the...?”

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.