Dazzling Performance

As the white clown’s smile reflected on his hazel eyes, Enji subconsciously took a step back, growing aware of a terrifying twist.

His mana… Since he wore that fool’s cap, it feels like it doubled—no, even tripled. He slowed down his breath.

I have to get past him and bring Sarai back. I don’t know what these guys want with him, or how powerful they are, but as long as the wristlet I gave him is on his wrist, I can track him down easily. Enji steadied his balance.

“Ignite.” Once he spoke the incantation, Enji’s boots, shoulders, elbows, and back were engulfed in tightly restrained flames.

After the explosion, I’ve cast a spell forging a bond with the flames that engulfed Dotonbori. I have a massive source of fuel. That said, I should focus on finding Sarai instead of fighting.

Thud. Thud. The distance between the two shortened as they approached each other.

All of a sudden, the white clown’s severed wrist began bleeding white, mana-rich paint.

“Oh. I haven’t regenerated yet.”

Regenerate? Enji’s eyes widened slightly before bulging in both amazement and terror. The paint pouring from the clown’s wrist shaped itself into bones, flesh, and veins, eventually morphing into a new, unharmed hand.

The faint moonlight glinted off Enji’s sweating face. He had ultimately decided to avoid the fight.

The white clown began jumping on his toes as if warming up.

Mere seconds passed before the two dashed toward each other!

One step away from clashing, the white clown swung his paper sword at Enji, aiming for his neck.

Immediately, Enji vaulted into the air, hovering above the clown. Before gravity had its grip on him, the Flame Sorcerer’s shoulder blades mutated into flame wings. They flared, launching him upward at extreme speed.

“Woaah! Now we’re talking!” Impressed, the white clown’s waist pivoted. He reached out for another piece of paper and shaped it with mana into a whip.

His arm coiled back as he lashed out with the paper whip fiercely, its tip faster than sight.

Almost instantly, it wrapped around Enji’s leg, a meter away from escaping the clown’s range.

What the fuck?! Enji felt the whip’s tip tightly press against his calf.

“Tricking the trickster? Not gonna happen.”

“Now get back!” With two hands gripping the whip’s handle, the white clown yanked Enji back to the skyscraper’s rooftop and whirled him through the air.

THUMP! Once the clown let go, Enji crashed against the rooftop, his blazing wings crackling in the air.

Where is he?! He immediately rose back to his feet, scanning the area for the clown.

There! With a deafening crack, Enji flung his wings forward, blazing outward as they grew to a terrifying span.

“Combust!” Consuming oxygen itself, Enji’s wings released a storm of fire-feathers.

They tore through the air, flying toward the clown, who, undeterred by the sight, surged forward.

Hundreds, or even thousands, of feathers pierced through him. Yet he walked, splattering paint all over the ground he walked, regenerated, and surged again.

Regeneration? How—no, that’s a clone! Enji looked behind him in a flash.

!!

And the clown awaited him with a hideous smile.

Fwooosh! Yet a blur of a slash from Enji’s wings sliced his head in two.

“A-Another clone…” Enji’s pupils quivered from within.

All he had to do to sentence himself with a wave of hellish terror was look around him.

And that he did.

Across the skyscraper’s rooftop, there was barely any spot in which a clone didn’t stand.

Barely a single spot.

The terrifying laughter of jesters echoed through the night’s atmosphere. It was the primal scream of a predator who fed for enjoyment and nothing else.

Nothing else.

Enji stood like a rabbit caught in the den of a wolves’ pack.

A bold, rebellious rabbit was the Flame Sorcerer. He stood unwavering, extended his arm toward the dark sky that lacked light. And with an incantation—

“Glimmer.” He created that light.

A tongue of flames erupted from his fingertip. It swam through the air, devouring every wandering oxygen particle as it swirled like a storm in the sky, shaping into a colossal blazing star that seared with heat and distorted one’s view.

A mirage of hell.

Clap.

Clap. Clap.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Every single clone clapped their hands in a musical rhythm.

Thud. Thud.

The real clown approached him.

He tapped Enji’s shoulder. “Great performance.”

“Transparent Lens, Tatsuki Enji.” The clown puffed on the root of the flame tongue above Enji’s finger.

Enji’s eyes bulged out, and his mouth opened in utter surprise. He felt a sudden wave of cold and dread devour his body as the glimmering flame star extinguished like a birthday candle.

My fuel… ended? Impossible… Enji gasped at this terrifying thought, but what scared him the most was the clown’s words.

“H-How do you know my name and the agency…?” He asked, looking at the ground.

“Oh. That?” The clown snapped his finger. “My vessel knows every detail about you and your agency.” He leaned into his ear.

“Your beloved boss told us,” he whispered.

“E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G.”

Thump.

Enji fell to his knees.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA”

The clones laughed.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA”

So hysterically.

They all rushed toward Enji, their fists clenched like hammers.

The real clone emerged behind Enji and pulled him up from his shoulders into a stance.

Staring at the ground, Enji drowned in thought, as the picture of the man he had always idolized was at risk of destruction.

The boss could never—Bang!

A bone-rattling punch shattered his thoughts.

“HAHAHA”

Bang! And another one.

Bang! Another one.

And a fourth one, a fifth one. They didn’t stop, nor did their laughter, nor did Enji’s sole echoing thought: The boss could never.

Growing back to his flawed senses, he attempted to block, but—Bang!

His attempts were useless.

Punches, kicks, and elbows struck him from every corner. He could only fall, get up, and fall again, all while bleeding, all while his face corroded beneath the weight of the strikes to the degree of his cheekbones' exposure.

And of course, all with the thought that screamed loudly within his mind: The boss could never.

…

Drip. Drip.

As the white clown wrenched him off his feet by the neck, Enji’s blood splattered the ground.

And in the absence of any light, it merged with the concrete, unseen.

The clones had all vanished, and once again, only the white clown and he stood at the top of chaos.

“T-The boss could—

The clown tightened his grip around Enji’s neck, and all Enji managed was to kick his feet weakly.

“For a man to assume utter knowledge of another is nothing but a joke.” The clown sighed.

“Your boss told the Yokai everything. Perhaps if he didn’t, you could have triumphed in this battle.” He shrugged with his free hand. “But, telling my men to kill the flames that erupted in Dotonbori was all I needed to win effortlessly.”

“This is no cheating. A deity is meant to teach mortals lessons, and that is what I did.”

“Y-You’re n-no deity…” Enji could barely breathe.

The clown chuckled. “Now for the punchline!”

“Human Faith is nothing short of useless without paying the price of sacrifice. The price of blasphemy.”

“And even if one were to do so, they’d still remain doomed.” He grinned. “Just like you now, Flame Sorcerer. Your flames, your fuel, are why you lost.”

The clown suddenly took off his fool’s cap. His wide smile faded into a sorrowful expression, and his grinning gaze sharpened.

He muttered, “To have something is to live in fear of the nightmare that is losing it.”

“I wish to advise you to remember my words. But it seems the heavens are willing to claim you this graceful night.” The clown relaxed his hold, just enough so Enji could manage to speak. “Allow me to know one thing first. Why do you believe in the Flame?”

Enji’s fragmented breath turned into a broken, hysterical giggle. “W-Why do I believe in the Flame? y-you say…”

“You’re wrong to say that owning gives birth to losing. The truth is, man is always at a state of loss.” He coughed up a mouthful of blood. “In order for man to thrive, loss should no longer be a fear.”

“The Flame… The Flame is an embodiment of loss itself. It will burn it all, everything you have. But at the pinnacle of despair, all that remains is its dazzling beauty.” A tear traced down his bleeding cheeks, falling across the exposed cheekbones.

“Its wild embers… Its scorching heat… Loss creates such a sight.” He laughed. “Say, do you believe we humans own ourselves?”

The clown shook his head in refusal. “Not the slightest.”

“You’re wrong.” Enji’s orange hair began to bristle, despite the absence of wind.

“We own ourselves. Our will, body, and desires.” A radiant heat blossomed within him. “Such things are nothing but fuel to the Flame!” He yelled. “The Flame that shall devour me, in exchange for its dazzling beauty!”

FWOOOSH! A celestial light-blue wave of flames bloomed within Enji, engulfing his entire body.