The Jester of Apocalypse
Chapter 125: Fiend

Neave sat in the center of the battle chamber, surrounded by the others.

They had slightly displeased expressions, and it was for a good reason.

All of them had found one or two powers they wanted to acquire, yet he had summarily rejected all of them.

The reason why?

Like a frog in gradually heating water, he hadn’t noticed that he was being boiled alive, and only now, as the water drastically cooled, did he realize just how hot it used to be.

His liver used to be the target of many spirit powers—Superior Troll Physique, Hyper Liver, and Durable Organs affected it directly; Crystal Cardiovascular System and Thunder Nerves spread into the liver, and Sacred Blood flowed through it. On top of all this, it was also under the purview of Shapeshifting.

A single body part had become the focal point of so many spirit powers that the continuous backlash and interference it had been emitting severely inhibited the function of basically every spirit power he had to varying degrees.

It had also overwhelmingly stressed his spirit—which continuously harmed it through accidental, uncontrolled discharges of wild energy.

This was only one example of layered interference, with plenty of others to point to.

This wasn’t a well-known issue. If two or three powers overlapped, sure, there would be some issue with that, but it wasn’t bad enough to cause such a powerful cascading effect.

Neave had no idea that the problem could evenbecome this bad, as there had never been precedent for someone having so many spirit powers of such potency.

Despite drastically reducing the number of spirit powers in his body, he felt considerably more powerful. The number of powers was meaningless if most of their potency couldn’t be fully utilized.

This was where the problem began.

He had told the others that they should pick their abilities more carefully—the fewer they could get away with, the better.

And to his surprise, they violently protested his rejection. Well, Harel and Dukean did, but the others weren’t quick to accept it either. He had even suggested Dukean remove his spirit powers, which almost ended up turning into a fight for some reason.

Their arguments weren’t entirely unsound. He was being a bit pedantic, and it had been so long that they argued that losing out on more time wasn’t worth avoiding the minor inconvenience.

Neave disagreed. Sure, they could work around the interference here, but it wasn’t like they could find identical powers when they left the nightmare realm; leaving any room for mismatched powers could result in their combo being worthless.

The conclusion to this conflict was ultimately simple. He was about to demonstrate the difference in power he had achieved.

Despite a drastic reduction in overall power, merely removing the interference had effectively transformed him into another person. If they didn’t want to believe his word, they would have to witness it for themselves.

True, he could beat them even before his upgrades, but he was about to do it much faster.

Why would they even have a reason to disbelieve his words?

It didn’t matter.

He sat right between the others with his eyes closed, completely unarmed and unequipped, while they all carried every piece of equipment they had.

In a soft, calm voice, he spoke, "Begin."

Immediately, the others dashed toward him. He remained seated. To him, they were barely crawling.

He knew there was more to the fusion of his powers than was initially evident. After all, every spirit power had hidden secrets. As all those powers were spread throughout his entire body, many of those secrets had been wrestled out into the light.

His perception, cognition, and control of his body fused directly into the function of his nerves perfectly processed the surrounding information and separated the useful from the useless.

He could smell intent, hear decisions, see the flow of combat, and feel the air movement on his skin as it was and would be. The eternity of battle experience was utilized to a far greater extent as his body obeyed not only his commands but followed the deeply embedded wisdom, pulling it directly out of his soul.

Moving his arm slightly, its crystalline, metallic, flexible, powerful, and perfect self glistening as it rushed to intercept the spiked ball of spirited metal as it was about to slam directly into his head.

They were instructed not to hold back even a bit, and they knew damn well that killing him wouldn’t be possible, even if they cut his body into pieces.

Yet, not even they could expect just how right they were.

The spikes penetrated his hand, and the rush of destruction poured into his arm. However, his will stretched the distance to true harm, and a moment of focus rebuilt the limb to perfection.

With a mighty grip that left a slight dent in the metallic ball, he wrestled the weapon out of Harel’s hands, used it to block Dukean’s sword and Gabrias’ arrow, then threw it at Hunter’s shield.

The boy’s eyes shot open, and he rushed to defend.

Before the ball could land, Marven was also on top of Neave, readying a powerful sword technique directed right at his center, while Dukean’s sword whipped back and yet again rushed to his throat.

With a slight shift of his legs, Neave disappeared and reappeared right behind Marven.

The old cultivator had suffered many times under his tyrannical strategies and was prepared to block.

Yet the block which was meant to soften the blow crumbled like glass beneath the titanic force of his fist, which he had willed to bear the strength of a planet collapsing from the skies.

Marven flew straight toward Dukean, and the young master rushed to the side to avoid him. A sudden kick to Dukean’s face sent him flying toward Gabrias, and a third technique sent Hunter flying toward Harel.

Hunter’s sword, meant to reduce knockback from any force, screamed in protest as the spirit inside it wailed in agony and gave way to the impact.

All the fighters were sent flying toward the dome's edge, and as their bodies dented the metallic barrier and collapsed in a messy pile, they got the idea.

He wasn’t joking about the importance of eliminating interference.

***

Once they had all recovered from the damage Neave had inflicted, he informed them that he would be leaving to scout for a while. He omitted his main reasons, throwing out a vague excuse about confirming the situation, and left the premises.

The others didn’t notice anything off about his behavior, as everything he did was a little crazy, and soon, they returned to honing their skills and mastering their power—while meticulously looking for more spirit powers.

***

Satreon ran through the obsidian forest, carefully watching the neverending proliferation of glass shrubs. At a gradually hastening pace, monsters appeared and left the radius of the glass forest.

It was mostly the weakest that ran, pushed out by the appearance of powerful creatures. Sateron waited for any to appear and rushed to slay them, acquiring the tiny shards of spirit within.

There was not much he could do with this before becoming a demigod. And even then…

With every new idea that came to mind, he lost more and more hope that he could find a way out of here. It was an anomalous realm, real but unreal, trapped in a bubble of spacetime and floating in nowhere.

Its existence, as it stood, was merely conceptual, and it would take a lot for that to change.

However, change it would. Yet, his situation would remain the same. There was no way out of this place, and there almost certainly never would be. However, that wasn’t necessarily the end of the line.

Whether it was spite or naive optimism, he hoped to make a life for himself here. True, he would never experience freedom, but…

He was beginning to suspect that his desires were manufactured. Fake. Implanted directly into his mind by his creator.

So much information about the outside world floated in his mind, and far too much of it was flowery. The more he thought about it, the less it added up. Was life outside really so beautiful and perfect?

What made the least sense was why he was questioning it to begin with. Yet a strange force compelled him to do so, unceasingly pushing him to question everything about the way he thought and all he knew.

It was a powerful sensation that drove him to shape his mind into something of his own. Why should he desire freedom and conquest of the outer realms?

Why couldn’t he create a life for himself here as well?

Sure, this realm was perilous and horrid, filled with monstrosities beyond even his comprehension, and terrible conflict was brewing within.

Yet, who had the right to claim that life here would be wrong?

He shook his head. Perhaps he was just losing it out of despair, but perhaps the pull of insanity was the last piece to the puzzle he was assembling.

Insanity thrived in this realm, after all.

Yes, that was right.

Suddenly, Sateron’s entire body froze as he sensed something horrible. It felt vaguely familiar. However, it felt far more dangerous this time. He sped up, yet not even his full speed was enough to create distance from his pursuer.

Within moments, that wretched boy appeared, unequipped and unarmed, standing right before him.

***

Neave cocked his head at the panicked adolescent before him. "What’s up, dude!?” He asked enthusiastically. “Why haven’t you come back yet?"

The young man suddenly disappeared and reappeared fifty meters in the air, where he promptly began flying upward.

Does he think he can escape me by flying up? Pffft!

Neave jumped into the air, and one dash and blink after another rapidly accelerated him toward the panicking escapee.

Within a moment, he floated in the air beside his target in a casual position. "So… I never caught your name."

"Stay away from me!" The young man lashed out with a powerful qi technique that even he couldn’t take lightly.

It didn’t take much to avoid it, however, and Neave once again appeared behind his target’s back, giving the man a massage. "Come on, dude, I’m not trying to hurt you! Chill out. Let’s talk."

"And why should I trust you!?" He screamed as he swung a fist at Neave, who disappeared again.

"I let you live once already, didn’t I?"

"You need not be after my life to be a fiend who aims to harm me!"

"Damn, dude,” Neave said, “chill the fuck out. What’s with the drama?"

Yet another punch flew at him; this time, he blocked it with his palm. The intense rush of force harmed him significantly, and it didn’t go away quite instantly when he willed to heal it.

However, the speed of his healing was clearly potent enough to make the young man realize that he was hopelessly outmatched.

Another short-lived escape attempt later, and he finally relented. "Alright! I concede! Speak already, and declare your intent!" Sᴇaʀch* Thᴇ NʘvᴇlFirᴇ.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

"Fucking finally!” Neave sighed in relief. “Let’s land, and we’ll talk."

"… Curses!" The adolescent swore with a deep frown that prompted a chuckle by Neave.

Back on the ground, Neave enthusiastically asked him, "What’s your name!?"

"My name is…" he frowned. "Why do you need my name?"

Neave groaned. "You’re such a pain in the ass, you know that? Look, let me start with mine, then. I’m Neave. Nice to meet you!" His stretched-out hand went ignored.

"My name… is… Sateron."

Neave lit up. "Finally! So, what’s up, Sateron!? What happened to you, by the way? Did you talk to Astrador?"

"I—!" Sateron yelled but calmed himself. A conflicted expression emerged on his face as he continued, "...You were likely correct."

"Holy shit, so you are a bomb!" He exclaimed with zero tact.

"No! I… I don’t think I am… Hmph. What am I doing…?” Sateron placed a palm on his forehead as a look of despair descended on his expression. “I have no real reason to inform you about my relations with the Great God."

"Suit yourself, dude, I don’t really care about that anyway."

"Then, what do you care about? Are you here simply to harass me!?" He paused and continued in a sharp tone, "Or are you a predator playing with your prey?"

"Dawg,” Neave started, blinking slowly, “you are so dramatic."

"… Shut up!"

"Either way, I can tell you’ve been kicked out. There is no method you can use to even harm me, let alone kill me, and given that you’re out here and not back with Astrador, I’m assuming you’ve run away, no?"

"You assume much, creature."

"Creature? Bro, you’re…" Neave cackled and facepalmed, "I like that! Creature! Damn, I will start introducing myself as Creature from now on."

"I tire of your ploys, fiend. Do with me as you must, or leave at once!"

"Hey, I’m just here to say hi to my fellow nightmare realm resident! I’ll be off soon enough."

"… Nightmare realm?" Sateron looked around. "Is that what you call this place?"

"Yup."

"Hmph. A fitting name, I suppose,” he admitted. “Are you meant to be the namesake ‘nightmare?’"

"Hahahahaha! Oh my heavens, dude, you are outright stroking my ego at this point."

"Begone," he demanded.

"Damn, okay," Neave raised his arms in mock defense. "No need to get aggressive. I’ll be on my way."

And with those words, he disappeared.

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