The Jester of Apocalypse
Chapter 106: Assassination

Sateron took a deep breath and released it.

A fine white mist surrounded his body, seeping into his pores and building his corpus to something more than its meager self. Finally, he was worth at least something.

For he had reached the subdivinity stage.

Or rather, as lower realm cultivators called it…

The first step of the diamond path.

Astrador nodded in what could barely pass as satisfaction. "I believe that will be enough." He handed Sateron a pearly, slightly transparent white saber, and Sateron shuddered at the feeling the weapon gave off. The material was at the very limit of what his spirit could tolerate, and its might was something he could feel coursing through the qi in his body.

The Great God touched the weapon, and fine inscriptions lined the blade's surface.

Sateron could recognize some of them. With these inscriptions, the weapon’s use became temporary, but every swing would hold several times as much cutting power as the concept of severing had been directly imbued into the edge.

Astrador concentrated, and a small, shiny, golden orb appeared in his hands.

Sateron’s eyes widened, and he gingerly grabbed the object. "What is this?"

"When you get relatively close to their position, consume it. You shall teeter on the border of being for a while, and the moment you interact with another, your existence will stabilize again. This should make you completely undetectable, but don’t take any chances."

Sateron gulped at that. He was confident. His victory was assured, but the way his creator phrased that… Who exactly was this ‘Neave’ that he made even the lord of the gods act so cautiously?

Astrador lifted his gaze and looked past the barrier. "Kill Neave first. Make sure your strike is decisive and his death instantaneous. Do not give him a chance to recover. The others are worthless. Even the most powerful among them is a pathetic worm at the divine spark stage. Once Neave is dead, the others will fall without issue." After pausing and frowning briefly, he continued, "And make sure you destroy anything they have created…

"… especially if it is alive."

***

Sateron ran through the obsidian forests, dodging and weaving through the sharp branches as he sought the clues of their location. His creator had imbued the knowledge of the last site he knew they were at, and Sateron swiftly made his way there.

After reaching his destination, he frowned. There was little, if anything, to go off when it came to discovering their tracks. So he calmed himself and breathed steadily, sensing the energy in the air. There was an incredibly faint presence.

Yet, that must mean they were close. Something was off, however. As far as the Great God could tell, the target could sense the range of his anchor.

Why would they remain so close to the border?

So he ran forward, following the same direction they went in and hoping to get another whiff of the faint energy.

***

Too much. There is far too much energy in the air.

Atmospheric energy contained loose qi particles and chaotic mixtures of spirit and life force released by the life and death of living beings. Such power took a long time and many lives to gather.

So why is it so thick here? He had to ask himself. What in the name of the heavens is happening?

Things may be worse than even the Great God, in all his wisdom, had predicted.

Suddenly, Sateron had to stop.

What is that?

There was a faint glimmer among the obsidian brush. It was hard to notice with the lack of light and all the thick growth in his way, but that couldn’t obscure the vision of someone at the subdivinity stage.

Yet, it wasn’t the glimmer he saw first. It was the intense life force flowing through these crystals. A shudder went through Sateron’s body as he realized what he was looking at.

Those things are alive.

Looking further, past the tiny crystalline shards, he realized precisely what they were. His stomach dropped, and fear gripped his heart.

It is… It is a brush. Much like these obsidian plants growing around me. But how? Where did they come from?

And the worst part… the forest of these things stretched far into the horizon.

Astrador hadn’t said much about why Neave had to die or who he was. However, it became increasingly clear to Sateron that his mission was far more deadly than he initially expected.

Should he return to Astrador first? Perhaps updating him on the situation was more critical than marching onward.

Sateron slapped himself with all his might.

You idiot! You doubt the wisdom of the great god!? He knew this would happen, and he entrusted me with my mission! You can do this, you fool. You were granted the tools you need. Just calm down and do your job.

He paused for a moment and considered a plan. This golden orb would allow for presumably perfect stealth, but he could not use it haphazardly. The longer he remained in the state it would put him in, the less likely it was that he could return to complete existence again.

There was no margin for error. Mistakes were impermissible. So, he took a deep breath again and thought it through.

It was time to do some scouting.

***

After searching the area and ensuring he remained out of range, he concluded several things.

These plants were growing at an insane speed. So quickly that their growth could be observed with the naked eye. A sprout would turn into a whole plant reaching about Sateron’s knee in less than an hour.

Next, they were spreading in a near-perfect circle. This meant that it was likely that whatever was causing their rapid proliferation resided in the center.

After quickly diving into several caves, he concluded these plants also spread beneath the surface. When he went deep enough underground, he also discovered their reach was ever-so-slightly greater than those on the surface.

That either meant they could spread faster through the underground or, the more likely option, the core resided underground.

Reaching as close as he could to the plants while maintaining perfect stealth, he soon discovered something horrifying.

Beneath the surface, all these plants were connected to thin glass roots. Those roots had such potent energy flowing through them that it made him shudder. Yet, the source of those roots was on the prespark stage.

The source of those roots… was on the path?

That gave Sateron pause. A plant that was capable of moving up the path?

Dear gods… The situation is far worse than I thought.

Some more investigation later, he discovered something moving. A bumbling demon, one of the cursed things that plagued this realm, made its way into the range of the plants. Sateron didn’t intervene, but instead, he observed from a distance, carefully watching to see what would happen.

One of the glass plants suddenly crumbled into pieces, and they floated up. The shards flew toward the demon and shredded it into bits. As those bits crumpled to the ground, glass roots sprouted from the soil, enveloping the demon’s body in a cocoon that absorbed its rotting corpse.

Sateron stared in horror at the incomprehensible display. If the plant consumed the demons, did that mean it was also corrupt? It didn’t feel like it, though… Could it be that it could resist the corruption?

No… His eyes shot open in terror. It could consume the corruption.

‘Heavens…’ he whispered under his breath.

Things just kept getting worse.

***

There was nothing else to discover, Sateron concluded, after observing the strange being for a while longer. All he had found were unimportant details, such as that the plant was consuming the obsidian growth, gradually removing it, and had difficulty spreading through solid metal.

That was about it then. A plan had already crystalized in his mind, and several backup plans were also created, just in case. He prayed that he wouldn’t have to employ either one of those.

Plan A would have to be enough. There was no real margin for error—not if what he was dealing with was as terrible as it seemed.

Sateron stood on the surface, hidden between the thick branches of obsidian growth. He observed the plants spreading in the distance and took another deep breath.

His body tightened, and with minimal movement, he jumped up, landing on top of the obsidian growth. Then, he focused, and his body floated off the ground. Flying wasn’t an easy feat, even at the subdivinity stage, but Sateron had divine talent, handcrafted by the Great God himself.

A relatively short while later, his clumsy floating transformed into flight. Sateron soared straight up into the sky, eventually reaching the clouds. Once inside, he flew as high as he could.

Even from miles up and through the thick, smoggy clouds, the planet's surface was clear as day to Sateron’s eyes. He turned and started flying horizontally, looking in every direction. The faint outline of the range of the glass plants was visible, and he calculated the precise center.

Once fully confident he knew the exact midpoint, he observed the nearby cave entrances. There was quite a bit of destruction in the nearby area, so he was optimistic that his prey was here somewhere. It was a bit of a gamble that they would be next to the plant, but it was the only location he was at least somewhat confident about.

No matter. As long as they were within a dozen miles, he could find them. After scouting every cave entrance nearby, he picked a relatively random one and flew above it.

Then, his flight was canceled, and he started to drop.

The clouds blazed by him, and he stared precisely down, determination seared into his expression, and soon, the smoggy mist was left behind.

The surface grew nearer and nearer as he descended, and he held the golden orb right in front of his mouth.

Not yet.

Not yet…

Now!

Just as he was about to approach within a hundred meters of the surface, he swallowed the orb. He didn’t feel anything happen but trusted his creator wholeheartedly, believing it had erased his presence.

He rapidly descended to the ground, and right before he struck it, Sateron spun in the air, using a movement technique to cancel his momentum. Flying was out of the option. It was far too qi intensive, and if done too close to any of the plants, it would likely disrupt his stealth.

No matter. He could manage. Another movement technique was used, and he flew right into the cave. Just before touching a plant or the ground, he would cancel his momentum and fling himself in another direction, never allowing himself to land.

The growth kept getting thicker and thicker, demanding trickier movements to maneuver through it, and Sateron began to sweat. Part of his concentration was dedicated to ensuring no drop of perspiration would fly off—lest it hit a plant and reveal his position.

Throughout this ordeal, he maintained a mental map of where he was relative to the center and made sure he moved through the caves most likely to lead him there.

Several times, he encountered dead ends.

Several times, he came within millimeters of touching a plant and revealing himself.

Several times, his concentration slipped, and he almost let a drop of sweat fly off his brow.

Yet, he prevailed.

Finally, he reached the cave that seemed directly adjacent to the center. Then, he frowned.

He hadn’t been focusing on sensing their position yet, as his entire focus was on moving through the cave. Now, he found himself before some sort of potent barrier.

What the hell was happening here? The center seemed to be completely isolated from the outside. As far as he could tell, not even a shred of energy flowed out of it.

No… that wasn’t entirely correct. There was a space where something akin to a door was placed. A door wholly created out of—crystallized spirit!? Impossible. Does a being exist that can shape the essence of life so freely?

Yet another horrifying discovery that once again clarified why Astrador wanted this person dead, but this was not the time to gape in awe.

He calmed himself and regained his focus. Jumping through more of the thick growth, he found himself right before the entrance. His entire being focused on the slight slit the door permitted, and he used the single most potent movement technique he knew, which allowed him to teleport from one location to another, regardless of how minuscule the passage between the two locations was.

His spirit screamed, and his body twisted in the air. He spun once, flicking his leg, then twice, waving his arms to turn his body to the left, and thrice, reaching as close to the entrance as possible, the sole of his foot floating a fraction of a millimeter away from his target—and released his breath.

Instantly, the world lurched as his entire being was pulled through a path that existed only in concept, and he appeared on the other side.

Immediately, deep fear grasped his heart as he felt the presence of the being standing in the center of the room. That creature… its anchor to reality was overwhelmingly strong, practically rooted in the Ephemeral Stone.

The instant he was done with his target, that thing also had to die. His eyes darted through the room, and he immediately spotted everyone inside. As the others observed, a young woman and a man, the one furthest down the path, were fighting over something.

Something was unusual about everyone in this room. Their physiques were ridiculously advanced, showing levels of perfection and balance that would be envied even in the higher realms. The weapons they held were all made of ordinary material, yet they radiated intimidating power.

Those... Those quasi-spirits...

Even the way they carried themselves was impressive.

And his target, the one he was hunting… It was a child. He knew the way Neave looked, but as his eyes fell on his horrifying figure for the first time, he learned something impossible to explain. Neave was at… the beginning of the foundation realm!? The very start of the path. Was it disguise? If so, it was absolute—potent to the degree that not even his divinely designed senses could see through it.

Calling this person a child was… questionable, as the sheer mass of muscle that made up his body made it difficult to tell his age from behind. He wore a crown and what looked like black glasses. He was the only one without a weapon out of everyone in the room.

Everything was strange about this individual. Astrador had imbued the memories of his looks directly into Sateron’s mind, yet it was apparent that this person had changed drastically since then.

Sateron froze, literally suspending his body in the air just a little behind his target. If the others were impressive in how they held themselves, then his target was horrifying. Something about even his exposed back screamed of danger and death.

Despite using one of the most advanced stealth methods in existence, Sateron felt entirely exposed. He couldn’t stop his body from shaking, and the grip on his sword grew tighter, slightly too strong to maintain a perfect stance.

Something concrete, an opening, was necessary so he could catch his target off guard, however slight. So he waited. The other two fought, and the girl yelled at the man, kicking him in the face and throwing him against the wall.

Sweat flowed down his body, and a drop fell off his chin. Through sheer grit, he grabbed it out of the air with his control and held it there, suspended, waiting for his chance.

The girl said something to the man, but Sateron kept his focus on his target, minimizing attention to all external stimuli. After a few seconds, the fight stopped, and Sateron’s heart sank as he thought he would lose his chance. He was reaching the end of his willpower. If something didn’t happen soon, he—

The girl said something else to the man, and Neave’s guard dropped a single degree for a single instant—it was barely enough, but Sateron, unhesitantly, immediately used a movement technique to appear directly behind his target’s back, swinging the sword with the fastest technique he could manage, and the edge of the blade cut right through his target’s neck without any resistance.

Neave’s head flew through the air and dropped to the ground several meters away. His primary mission accomplished, Sateron instantly turned his attention to the plant sitting in the middle of the room—a critical mistake.

A minuscule thread of muscle extended from his target's severed head and pulled it right back, attaching it to the body, although it landed the wrong way around.

Neave grabbed his head, screwing it back the right way, and turned to face him. "Who the fuck are you?" He yelled, surprise without fear present on his face.

His focus snapped right back to Neave, and he cut through his body, bisecting him at the waste and splitting his arms, then he swung it again, severing his body vertically.

Slash after slash flew in a hurricane of cuts, turning his target into little more than a cloud of flesh particles.

Violet light lit up behind Sateron, and his attention was pulled back for a fraction of a second.

In that slight moment, his target’s body extended thousands, then millions of tendrils of flesh as it pulled itself back together, reassembling the body, which had been almost completely shredded, back to its perfect form.

"I said,” Neave said again, his patience running thin. “Who the fuck are you!?"

The red-haired man screamed, "Neave, careful! That—!"

"First step of the diamond path, yeah, I can tell."

The violet light vanished, being merely a decoy, and Sateron unhesitatingly returned to slashing his target to bits. Neave’s body was peculiar, but that didn’t mean his weapon was ineffective. So he swung the sword again.

A faint flash of lightning lit up beneath Neave’s skin, and his body twisted, turning so frighteningly fast that Sateron’s attack missed completely. He tried pulling the saber back into another swing, but this time, he felt a faint resistance that seemed to be originating from his target's crown.

That slight pause, the briefest of moments of slowness, was all his target needed.

Out of nowhere, Neave’s open palm swung at Sateron’s face, slapping him so hard he felt as if his soul had been knocked out of his body. His skin pooled with blood, and his neck strained against the force, creaking as it nearly shattered.

Left eye blind, teeth smashed into fine particles, ear completely deaf, Sateron struggled to regain himself as a punch flew as his torso, sending a pulse through his organs that strained then to their limit.

The knockback threw him away toward the wall behind him, yet, before he could hit it, a sizeable obsidian block appeared in his way, and he collided with that instead, shattering it into pieces and collapsing his momentum.

"Phew, that was close,” his target declared. “I almost broke the spirit dome there. Also, damn, I’m so strong now! I can probably kick Carfen’s ass, no problem!" He said, shadowboxing the air, his attention already removed from Sateron’s mangled body.

The nonchalant attitude of his target spoke louder than his words.

His mission was over. He had failed.

No…

He never stood a chance of success from the very beginning. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ NʘvᴇlFɪre.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

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