It was nearly 4 in the afternoon when Asher finished his meal. His efforts to corral the clouds of darkness had consumed almost two hours.

He was excited, having finally shaken off the fear that had plagued him for days and nights. He believed he might soon be able to retaliate.

Though he had masked the trauma from that fateful night at the ball, it had only been a facade. He felt fear, certainly, but also seething anger.

He longed to punish the wretched clown. If the man in the trench coat hadn't intervened, Asher would have tried to confront the clown himself, likely failing miserably. Yet he didn't care.

His indignation smoldered like a live coal. Soon, he believed, he could afford to let it grow.

"There's no way that clown is the only fiend of his kind. That red-haired woman, without a doubt, is another kindred abomination.

Malicious monsters who delight in the torment of others have no right to breathe the same air as the rest of us.

I hope to ensure they don't—not in Menthil, that's for damn sure."

After gathering and cleaning the dishes to return to the restaurant next door, Asher headed back to Henry's room.

Henry sat by the fire, smoking his pipe, lost in thought as he listened to the crackling flames. Asher approached and sat across from him.

He had changed back into his work attire, minus the jacket. Sipping his tea, he spoke.

"Henry, have you ever heard of a cannibal clown with the ability to manipulate minds?"

Henry didn't seem the least bit surprised by the question.

"Indeed, I have. They're incredibly rare, but every now and then, a jester descends too far into madness and becomes something like that. Typically, they are taken down by comrades or themselves before the situation escalates. The jester's path is a dangerous one, you see. Of all the ten paths, it is likely the quickest route to madness."

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Asher interrupted the old man before he could continue rambling.

"The ten paths? What are those?"

"Perhaps, with time, as you stay with us longer, your security clearance will rise high enough to learn more.

For now, I'll just say that there are ten paths to madness. Each path grants tremendous power. Truly extraordinary feats can be accomplished by those who walk them."

Henry paused, raising his hand as if cradling an invisible ball.

Moments later, the fireplace flared, and a torrent of flames streamed toward his hand, condensing into a small, fiery orb. The flames were as gentle as a newborn chick, and Henry handled them with ease.

Asher wasn't shocked by the display; he had already witnessed the clown's teleportation, after all.

"Of these paths, I walk the one known as the Firedancer. You must understand that while there are ten paths, each has its own steps. We call these steps 'descensions.' I am a Step 9 Firedancer. Above me, there are eight more steps to climb.

Each step bestows more power and longevity, but also increases the danger of losing oneself."

"How does one begin their journey on these paths?"

"In the beginning, people didn't know.

It wasn't until the Knights Stella began funding large-scale research that the paths became somewhat stable.

Back then, people consumed anything that contained spiritual essence without knowledge of the proper synthesis. The result was chaos—monsters ran rampant, lives were forfeited, cities were razed, and humanity teetered on the brink of extinction. That's when we learned that humanity's greatest threat has always been itself.

It's unfortunate that too few remember this lesson. To clarify, in order to descend, one must consume a potion crafted from ingredients unique to their path. Additionally, the ingredients must align with their current step; otherwise, losing control isn't a risk—it's a certainty."

"Unbelievable. Could this be real? Before the clown incident, I would never have believed such madness. Reality, it seems, can indeed be stranger than fiction."

"Are all clowns this powerful?"

"The one you encountered was an exceptional case. He had lived in that mansion alone for years after his wife passed.

He retired from service here and began devising his 'performance.' We checked on him just a week before the incident—he was completely normal then.

He was the same gentle man we had worked with for decades. He was my friend, my partner, even my lawyer when I got into trouble with the law.

That was before all this Consultancy nonsense... Anyway, I'm sorry for what happened to you. It's not wrong to say that the company is to blame for the tragedy that night.

We were not vigilant enough about the monsters in our midst. I hope you take this lesson to heart—never focus so much on external threats that you overlook the ones right at your door..."

"You're telling me that clown used to work here? That monster was once human? Do you know how many people he killed that night?! Over 100! He killed my only family. He would have killed me too if not for the man in the trench coat."

"Indeed, he did work here. So, don't for a second think that the paths of descent are something to be trifled with. If you let your guard down, you could end up just like him."