Of all the ways Akemi imagined she’d be welcomed into some assassin club—maybe by a shadowy gargoyle, or a quiet, serious man—she did not imagine that it would be by a clown.

The darkness had given way to a chapel. It was a marvelous thing, in the way that old things are marvelous purely because they’re old. It was terribly unkempt, the walls were falling apart, the hallway was full of foot-sized potholes. Runes were the only thing keeping the place alight, and then only barely. The same kind of runes at Grimguard’s entrance: green and judgmental.

Then there was the clown. He was sitting on a stone bench in the hallway, reading a book. Percival walked by him, caressing his leg with a purr. The clown gave him an idle brush across the exposed vertebrae. Akemi diagnosed the man as a clown purely by appearances: he wore a black and white hat with three floppy points, golden bells adorning his shoes, and a creepy face mask with an eerie smile painted on the front.

Akemi attempted to bypass him, not particularly interested in making small talk with a medieval circus freak, but unfortunately, she didn’t get very far.

“Stop,” he warned, not looking up from his book. “Not another step, my dear.”

In strong contrast to her usual character, Akemi obeyed. Her desire to complete her current quest outweighed her distaste for people dressed in terrible costume.

She tilted her head towards him reluctantly.

Dread | Level ??? Dark Jester

Tutorial tip! If someone’s level is substantially higher than yours, you may not be able to see it. Some people have skills which allow them to obfuscate their true levels, their true names, classes, et cetera.

She had an uncanny feeling of deja-vu.

Dread. I swear I've seen that name before.

Before she could mull on it too long, the jester clapped his book shut, stood, and leaned forward joyfully.

“Welcome!” He grinned, taking her hand and squeezing it tightly. She fought the instinct to punch him; an instinct which only grew when a small blade descended from his sleeve and pressed itself to the nape of her neck. The blade was white, black, and red, just like the rest of him. “It seems Percival brought a treat right to my doorstep. Such a good boy he is. I thought I’d have to leave the house just to get a bite of experience, but no no no. Here you are, darling."

He backed up, and, unexpectedly, threw the dagger aside. It clattered down the dark hallway, scaring poor Percival.

Akemi’s face must have shown her confusion, because he immediately answered her questioning look.

“A dagger pressed to a throat—it’s a dashing appetizer, but by no means the main meal.”

He raised a lithe finger to the side of his ivory mask, and began to lift it. She saw very little of what lay beneath, but the smell it emitted was rank, like the pits of a dumpster.

“I shall enjoy you very much, dear… hm, Akemi.”

A powerful wind tunnel emerged where his mouth should be, sucking her in with the force of a jet engine. She struggled against it, her heels dragging along the stone floor.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

No way I am dying to a clown.

Flinging her arms forward, she cast her orb, and lobbed it straight at him. The swarm of locusts, sucked in an instant, flew under his mask.

He yelped, then coughed deeply. "Oh, oh, that's disgusting!"

In an act that defied physics, the jester suddenly disappeared into his hat. It was as if his body had been sucked into it by a vacuum. Meanwhile, the remainder of her orb smacked into the wall behind him, leaving only a fiery trail of debris, and the sagging, crumpled hat on the ground.

Akemi stared at it, gobsmacked.

Is he just... inside of his hat, now?

It didn’t matter. For all she cared, this was a prime opportunity. She withdrew the orb from the wall and smacked it down hard on the ground. Then she frowned, growling. It wasn’t working. The orb’s demonic hornets bit and tore at the hat to no avail—it was utterly impenetrable. They were like dogs chewing fruitlessly at bone.

“Oh, great. You again.”

A woman came to a halt just in front of Akemi and her ravenous insects. Two electric blue eyes peeked out from behind a black mask, and Akemi recognized them immediately.

“P,” Akemi said. Then grinned smugly, her near-death experience already forgotten. “I beat you here.”

P rolled her eyes. “Hardly. I was just out getting supplies,”—she looked begrudgingly down at the hat on the floor—“I see you’ve met Dread. I’d say he’s harmless, but he’s not. I’m surprised your innards aren’t spilling out of his mouth right now. That’s usually how he greets new recruits.”

“Yeah, I gathered that.”

“And yet you're still standing. Odd,” P remarked.

The two looked at each other for a moment, saying nothing. It was a strange, uncomfortable silence.

P blinked slowly, as if she was considering something. Then, a moment later, she nodded to herself, and began to abruptly step over Dread’s hat, and walk briskly down the corridor.

Without turning her head back, she yelled. “Are you coming, or what?”

Akemi's eyebrows rose. She’s helping me?

To say she was surprised was an understatement, but Akemi obliged nonetheless. Considering her less than warm initial welcome, she wasn’t keen on getting lost in this maze of a chapel.

P opened a set of creaky, massive wooden doors, and the entry-hallway gave way to a massive nave. Hundreds of pews sat in parallel lines on the cracked floor, some in-tact, others split into several pieces. An altar sat at the front of the room, bathed in the soft glow of surrounding candlelight. There was a statue there of a woman. Her hair was full of snakes, like Medusa.

The room was bustling with worshippers. Everyone wore unassuming black robes, which were decorated with tiny white moon symbols. Moon cuffs, moon earrings, moon bracelets and bangles. Symbols of the moon hung everywhere—painted on clothing, carved into the floor, embroidered into time-worn banners hanging from the insurmountable ceiling.

One worshiper in particular caught Akemi’s eye. He was tall, and not very distinguishable in any real way except for his company; Akemi identified the green, stubby man next to him immediately: it was Bwog, the bard from the inn at Agnor’s. The one that P had kidnapped.

“That’s Nocturne, isn’t it?” Akemi ventured, pointing to the tall man.

“Look at you, Sherlock.”

Akemi’s eyes widened, and she glared at P.

Did she just say..?

P bristled at her expression. “What? God, you must not get out much. Never met an otherworlder?”

“I—” Akemi stuttered. She was completely thrown. “I am an otherworlder.”

P’s mouth fell open in surprise.

Their conversation was cut short by a cold, fish-like hand on Akemi’s shoulder.

“You gave me quite the scare there, Kem!”

Goosebumps ran up Akemi’s skin as Dread clapped her on the back, then walked out in front of her, leaning back on one of the pews.

“My bad, trying to eat you and all.” He laughed brightly behind his mask. “Didn’t realize you had friends in such high places. Nocturne told me about a girl that escaped with him back at Kyndra’s—didn’t realize you were that girl! Honest mistake.”

Akemi stared dryly at him.

So he’s not apologizing for trying to eat me. Only for trying to eat me when it could have gotten him in trouble. Amazing.

People here had the honesty of saints. She supposed Brutus was onto something with his little theory.

“Let’s get you properly introduced, why don’t we? Don’t mind us, Pyre. We’ll just be a moment.”

Akemi found the girl’s eyes once more. They were open wide, stupefied. Pyre. So that was her name.

Pyre | Level 15 Accountant

Tutorial tip! When you discover new information about someone, their profile will update.

Before Akemi could say anything more to her, Dread was dragging her away by the arm.