Ahem… Ahem…
Greetings, faithful followers. Now then, ah!
In the name of our savior, Lord… ahem… Velmoro — wait, what was his name again? Lord Cardinal Ambrose Valerius.
Yes, yes, that's it.
As you all know, our Lord has sent his divine decree.
Tomorrow marks the night of the grand ceremony when the one destined to lead us to victory shall awaken.
But alas, we've uncovered a terrible truth.
There are spies among us who are plotting against our lord's plan.
Damn it! How could this happen? How were our secrets leaked from the sacred investigation headquarters?
Is there a traitor here tonight?!
The Lord has commanded me to expose the guilty.
And so, for the sake of our holy mission, we have only two choices: either we kill everyone or find the traitors.
Shall I begin?
If you're a traitor, please raise your hand.
Everyone looked at each other.
Tsk!
You really aren't funny!
Fine, form a circle.
He planned to sacrifice only four; he needed a distraction to enter and an excuse to leave unnoticed.
Remove your hoods, please.
One by one, the hoods were pulled back, and their faces were revealed.
Jester wandered around the circle, reading their expressions and listening to their heartbeats as if flipping through open books. Then, a sharp grin carved its way across his lips. Who would've thought I'd actually find real spies here? Well… ruining someone else's plans sounds fun enough.
"Looks like some of you will be visiting your mothers tonight," Jester whispered to Velmoro. "Change of plans; prepare the ceremony to receive my blessing."
He pointed at four of them. "Step out." Then he placed two at each entrance. He took a measured breath and commanded, "Now, recite the cleansing text."
The 4 began to chant in a low whisper:
O light of men, scatter the flesh,
Burn the body that strayed from truth,
Submit the spirits to my will,
Plant fear in the hearts of traitors,
Reveal the filth that hides in faith,
Strip away the masks of the concealed,
Let purity devour corruption,
Let souls be washed in the blood of truth,
Let the shadows fall before the Lord's eye,
Arvom… Althera… Puritas… Exolv!
Damn it!!!
What's this? We've been exposed!!!
How were our plans leaked?!
Eight months of work—gone! Is there a traitor among us?!
Jester began singing in a strange, cheerful tone, like a child guessing in a playground,
yet his eyes studied them with deadly precision—catching every single face motion.
Then he suddenly shouted, raising his arms like a deranged conductor:
"Hadi! Badi! Karnab! Zibadi!" clap, clap
"You! Shalo! Hatto! 'Al hadi!" stomp, stomp
"You! Ya katkout, rouh el souq!" snap, snap
"Hat el beid, men el sondouq!" a twirl, a laugh
"And you!!!"
The scene exploded into chaos as Jester exposed the traitors.
"There they are—the ones who would ruin the Lord's plans. Heretics!"
New expressions washed over the crowd—fear and the lust for vengeance, as if everyone now wanted to kill.
Violence erupted. Hav—one of the suspects—stabbed a follower. Red blood spilled across the ground.
"Start ,Velmoro!!"
Velmoro began his incantation. The circle transformed into a dark crimson halo, boiling with corrupted energy.
I am the heir of the jesters of shadow, bearer of the mask of sacred chaos.
I was born from the whisper of a laugh broken beneath the tongue of gods.
My blood was spilled on a stage devoid of audience, and darkness witnessed me—
the first dancer upon the ashes.
O eternal mask of mockery, answer your rightful heir.
From cracks and tears, I summon the light of holy madness.
I awaken deceit sleeping within human faces, and grant it a form of sick laughter.
Let truth fall to the ground, and let falsehood rise as a new crown.
I am the prophet of absurdity—I pray with laughter and atone with silence.
Let masks bow before my face, and let reason hush its pitiful voice.
Let blood smile, and let graves applaud the end.
From the ashes of the stage, I raise my banner—the banner of the Eternal Circus.
Let fear be my melody, and madness my symphony.
O spirits of the laughing dead, rise from your seats and answer the call.
Let the gate open between nothingness and farce, between holiness and disgrace.
For today… the First Jester returns to his throne—stained with laughter and blood.
Jester turned to the two men beside him who were still chanting the original words.
With a tone dripping with illusion, he said,
"These two right here—they're traitors! They changed the circle's color."
The accused flinched, panic flashing across their faces.
The others lunged fast as if they'd heard a divine command.
The two tried to escape, words stuck in their throats.
The mob was faster. They were shoved into the circle, and in the chaos one of them grabbed another by the arm and dragged him in too.
"You're very loyal," Jester whispered coldly. "We've killed all the traitors."
A thin smile curved his lips as he added, "But my friend, I can't let your comrades suffer alone."
In a sudden motion, Jester grabbed the man and hurled him into the circle.
Blood, screams, and bodies collided within the crimson barrier—it looked less like a ritual and more like a miniature massacre; a celebration of ruin.
Then Velmoro began another chant:
All who see me shall laugh, and all who laugh shall die.
I am the echo of the world's final laugh.
With blood, I sanctify jest; with agony, I purify light.
I make pain a prayer, and madness a hymn for eternity.
O shadows of the eternal circus, bow before the heir of forgotten laughter.
Let faces fade, and let masks remain as witnesses of rebirth.
I am the wraith that dances between death and farce.
Every scream is an inverted laugh, every tear a smiling clown.
From the ashes of truth, I forge sacred deceit and grant it a pulse of irony.
From the mouth of hell, I release my song—the Carnival of the End.
Let fire and frost entwine in a dance of absolute chaos.
Let pain be the anthem of birth, and birth the funeral that laughs.
Smile, O chaos, for the prophecy is fulfilled.
Behold, I awaken the Jester's Blessing—the laughter that devours eternity.
And now… let the curtain fall, and let the show that never ends begin.
The circle erupted in red and black lightning, screams rising with the sound of exploding flesh.
Jester leapt back three steps, shouting:
"Damn you, Velmoro! You're making a pot of popcorn, not a spell!"
"If you mean the popcorn… I burned it."
He grinned wickedly, gesturing to the burning circle.
"Well then, step in, Jester. Looks like you'll have to go in and grab some popcorn… if you want your blessing."