The Jester of Apocalypse
Chapter 130: The Way Out

Sateron backed away from the demonic entity, scoffing at it, "Talk!?” He spat indignantly. “Why do you believe I have any reason to converse with a demon such as yourself?"

It chuckled a bit, almost sadly, "Not even I would want to speak to one of those mindless goons… But I am not one of them.”

"How do you know my name!?” He asked. “And it doesn't matter to me whether you’re a monster or a demon. 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,” it acknowledged. “But I wonder, do you reject me due to your own opinion…” then, with a dark gleam in its eye, it added, “or because your creator pushed those ideas into your mind.”

Sateron gaped and took a shaky step back. “You…”

“Well, if you have no desire to speak,” it said, “then I shall be on my way." And with that, it turned away and started walking into the distance.

He stared at the creature's back as it slowly walked away. His heartbeat sped up, and he could not resist the urge to call for it. "Wait!"

The monster turned around and looked at him with its eyebrows raised. "What is it?"

"I…” he swallowed. “S… S-State your business!"

"Is that permission to talk?" It asked with a cheeky grin.

He 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 him. "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 him pause. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

"Figures…” it said, chuckling sarcastically. “Of course your creator wouldn’t tell you. The sheer magnitude of the sin he had committed… Everyone would want to hide that."

Sateron's eyebrows shot 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, he scoffed and looked away with a pang of shame, throwing the creature to the ground. "Do not speak to me of the Great God."

“Is that so?” It asked. "I know he had abandoned you."

Sateron spun around and yelled, lashing out at it, "What the hell do you know!?” He screamed with such fury that veins bulged in his forehead. “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 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 believed you would be a kindred spirit… I thought, at least, you, if anyone, would understand…"

He 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. Do not think I can’t see through your ruse," he said, smiling coldly. “You know more about me than you should. I don’t know how, but it smells of evil intent!”

"I admit…” it said. “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."

"I would have noticed you,” he replied instantly.

"Really…? No offense, but I believe I am more powerful than you are."

He wanted to refute that, but he still vividly remembered being stopped just a few minutes ago. "So what? That makes you no less evil."

"Why do you so strongly believe that I am evil?" It asked him in a vaguely offended tone.

"Because I…" He tried, but—

"I’ve been tolerant up to this point, but it’s clear that you can’t put your built-in prejudice aside.” It got up and pushed some dust off its sleek body. “I do not have any malicious intent toward you, yet all you have shown me from the moment I arrived is extreme hostility! You know what?” It said. “Forget it.” Then, it turned around, showing the intent to leave for good.

Sateron stared at its back. All of his knowledge, every bit of his… Well, everything he was had come from the Great God.

There was still a vast reverence, a deep, built-in desire to worship him—and follow the paradigm Astrador wanted him to. And it made sense. Was it not logical to revere him? 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 him? Hadn’t he abandoned his cause?

A sudden, powerful headache flashed through his mind, and he 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 held 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. He had both provided them with jewelry that enhanced regeneration and had plenty of pills and potions prepared in case of injury. And speaking of those, they happened constantly.

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 one wanted, or rather, needed in combat when wielding their 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. It worked sort of like qi did, but it recovered far slower—on a scale of years.

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, constantly prying, capturing monsters, picking at the roots, and so on. At first, Xurbon had been lenient, believing the existence of such entities to be beneficial to their cause. But after realizing there was more to these things than met the eye, it started intervening and fighting back.

None of what he heard from Xurbon was surprising, as Neave knew they weren’t merely sitting dormant.

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

It had been rebuilt once again, and he 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 he 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. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the N0ᴠᴇFɪre.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

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

"Holy shit, that was close…" he breathed out a sigh of relief.

Although he could hide it pretty well, it was getting far, far worse now. The call of sleep had been somewhat postponed after he 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.

And there was nothing he could do about it. No alchemy ingredient he had access to could help, and there wasn’t even a spirit power that could do it. Sleep was indispensable. Especially at the beginning of the foundation realm.

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. Falling asleep was something that could have disastrous consequences.

And if he indeed 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, he 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 him, 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 attack.

Neave had already constructed four avatars.

The first was the mule, 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 with horrifically destructive 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 both weapons held a potent poison power. The dagger inflicted a far deadlier version of that thing Kaphor could do, causing near-instant withering and rot, while the shortsword inflicted a state that messed with the internal flow of energy of the target.

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

But with this ogre… he wanted only one thing—destruction. This would be a gigantic avatar equipped with a titanic sledgehammer.

Once back out, he 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, to say it lightly, he utterly fucked it up.

The other two were 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.

He yet again readied the contraption.

Numerous needles appeared out of every wall of the containment chamber. Each 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 absurd weight of countless massive quasi-spirits was too much for the monster’s core to handle, and it shattered into pieces. Violet Avatar instantly appeared inside a hidden compartment and possessed its body.

Indeed. With nearly no damage to the ogre’s body, he 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 why hadn’t it killed him?

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

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

"Oh, I… I see."

An awkward silence settled between them, and after much effort, he 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 had no ill intent."

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

That made sense, 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, if I deny my ability to reason, I deny that I am alive."

"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?" He asked cautiously.

It chuckled a bit. "I believe I already told you that I without one…”

“Oh,” he said. “Right. Apologies.”

“I could pick one of the many names I used to have,” it continued. “But that would be too greedy. None of them belong to me alone."

"I see…"

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…” it declared. “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, and the Great God.

Sateron 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 the impression that they were awe-inspiring individuals. They were clearly here against the Great God's will. They were clearly his enemies. But they still lived, and he had witnessed Astrador’s attempt fail miserably. After all, his very existence embodied that failure.

Perhaps it was merely the lack of human contact or having nobody to contrast them to except vague memories of what was standard in the outside realms.

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 but for an entirely different reason this time. It felt lost, just as he was, and he couldn’t bear to watch that.

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?

He laughed, and the monster looked at him weirdly.

"Is something funny?" It asked.

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

Unhesitantly, the creature shook its head. "I have vague memories of a distant place. Of green pastures, of harsh yet rewarding life in the countryside. The life of a merchant who dwelled in the cities and a traveler who explored the lands. They lived. They had been alive in a world that made it worth living. This place…” it said, its expression darkening and its lips curling in disgust. “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.

He 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."

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

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

In a blind rage, he 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?" He asked.

"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. "Isn’t it obvious,” he asked sarcastically, “what their fate is?”

"Perhaps…"

"Perhaps that is the way out." Sateron dropped to his knees and grabbed a handful of the sticky substance. "You agree that nothing of value awaits us here, right?"

Hesitantly, the monster nodded.

"Then let's take a chance,” he said, turning to face it with the unenthusiastic, blind hope that he clung to with all he had. “Either we perish… or we leave.” Then, closing his eyes with a resigned look… “I am perfectly at peace… with either possibility."

"Are you certain…? What if there?"

"What?” He turned to it. “What if there is what?" He stared at the monster, then turned to face the ocean again. "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. “I can’t continue knowing that I was born to merely die.”

The monster knelt beside him.

They kneeled in silence until, finally, he 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!” Its unrestrained laughter echoed across the roiling sea. “You naive little godspawn. Don’t worry,” it said, evil oozing from its wicked smile. “I didn’t lie. You’ll 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…?” It mused. “Well, if the Jester is to be removed…

"It won’t happen before I get a turn."

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