Entering Apocalypse in Easy-Mode
Chapter 294: Familiar Voice

Chapter 294: Familiar Voice

The room fell silent except for the faint hum of arcane lighting in the room. Clyde’s sharp gaze locked onto the two High Council members seated before him.

Vernik sat rigid with his staff resting against the table beside him, his expression filled with the cold fury that flickering in his eyes. Clyde also noted the tension in the old man’s knuckles as he gripped the armrest of his chair.

Despite having been in the courtyard mere moments ago, Vernik was here already, showing the otherworldly power High Council members wielded.

Beside Vernik was Madri, her brown skin illuminated by the light of the room. Her posture was calm, but her eyes betrayed her feelings — sharp, piercing, and brimming with the same disdain Vernik held for Clyde.

Clyde ignored them both. They were predictable, they just hate him but can’t do anything to him. Instead, his attention shifted to Maethion who stood near the wall, carefully handling a familiar small sealed box.

"So, what have you found?" Clyde asked, his tone sharp and direct. He didn’t bother with pleasantries or glances at the two other Council members. Why would he?

Maethion glanced up. "The substance is different from anything we’ve encountered before, Clyde. This was ancient, mysterious, and completely untraceable."

Clyde’s frown deepened. "Untraceable? What do you mean?"

Maethion shifted his weight, setting the box carefully on the table. "We’ve analyzed it from every angle. Alchemy, arcane forensics, even direct resonance testing. No match with anything from the Celestials, Angels, or Demons." He paused, his gaze steady but grave. "It’s as if it doesn’t belong to any of their realms."

Clyde leaned forward slightly, his brow furrowing in thought. "So where does it come from?"

"We don’t know," Maethion admitted, his tone growing heavier. "That’s precisely why it’s so concerning. This substance carries an energy signature unlike anything in recorded history. Its stable for now because its been weakened. But I thought that it wasn’t meant to exist."

Clyde’s eyes narrowed and glanced at the box. For a moment, unease flickered within him, a rare occurrence.

"What do we do with it?" Clyde asked.

Maethion exhaled, the weight of the question evident. "For now, I can only think about securing it and study it further. But if the source of this substance is what I fear it might be..." He hesitated, his usual composure faltering.

Clyde raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"

Maethion looked him directly in the eyes. "Something beyond the Celestials, Angels, and Demons. Something older. And much, much worse."

The room grew colder, the gravity of Maethion’s words settling heavily on everyone present.

Clyde turned his gaze back to Madri and Vernik, who were now uncharacteristically silent. Their hatred remained, but for the first time, Clyde saw something else — fear.

Clyde ignored them. Is Graemory going to find the same thing? But maybe she would found more information about this anomaly cause she is a Demon.

Maethion’s explanation left Clyde unsettled. The substance wasn’t from the Celestials, Angels, or Demons—but something far worse. Yet somehow, it seemed to know him. It had addressed him.

Clyde’s throat tightened as he tried to process the implications. A rare chill of fear crept up his spine. He now faced the unknown — something beyond the realms of even the most ancient forces he had fought against.

He swallowed hard. "What the hell am I dealing with?"

The tension in the room was thick, the silence stretching uncomfortably after Maethion’s words.

"So, what do we do now?" Clyde finally broke the stillness.

His words hung in the air, unanswered. The High Council members exchanged uneasy glances, their minds clearly swirling, but no one dared to speak.

Their silence wasn’t out of deference to Clyde — it was rooted in their own confusion and fear of the unknown threat looming before them.

Madri was the first to speak among them, her voice carrying a forced optimism that felt hollow.

"It’s not like this anomaly is directly threatening us, right? We don’t need to overreact. Perhaps it’s nothing more than a curiosity."

Clyde’s sharp gaze cut through her false confidence.

"How are you so sure it won’t become a direct threat?" he asked coldly. "Maybe it isn’t now, but we have no idea how long that will last. You’re the rulers of this place, aren’t you? Get the rest of the Council together and decide what to do before it’s too late."

Madri opened her mouth to respond, but Vernik interjected. "It’s not as simple as you think! The Council members have their own priorities. They won’t all drop everything just because of this... anomaly."

His words carried a note of irritation, but also an undertone of helplessness.

Clyde’s lips curled into a cold smirk. "Is that so? Then maybe you’re not as in control as you think."

He pushed back his chair, the sound of its legs scraping against the stone floor echoing through the room.

"Fine. Handle it however you want. It’s your fortress, your Council. I’ve got better things to do than wait around for you to figure it out."

He turned on his heel, his coat sweeping dramatically as he made his way to the door.

Maethion took a step forward, as though to stop him, but hesitated. What could he say? He had no solid answers to give so no real reason to keep Clyde from leaving.

Clyde didn’t bother looking back as he opened the heavy iron door.

"Come on, Hammer," he called, his tone impatient.

The dwarf, who had remained quiet throughout the tense exchange, followed without a word, his expression thoughtful but grim.

The door slammed shut behind them, the sound reverberating through the room like a final judgment.

Vernik and Madri remained still on their seat, their expressions sour and conflicted.

Maethion leaned heavily against the table, his fingers tracing the edges of the box containing the strange substance.

"What now?" Madri muttered.

Vernik’s eyes remained fixed on the door Clyde had just exited.

"We do what we always do, try to maintain order. But make no mistake," he said, his voice low and edged with warning, "Clyde is right about one thing. This is bigger than we can handle alone. And if we wait too long, it may already be too late."

Maethion glanced at the box again, his brow furrowed. He knew Clyde wasn’t wrong either.

But what worried him most wasn’t just the substance or its origin — it was the look of fear... or maybe anxiety... he’d briefly seen in Clyde’s eyes.

If even Clyde feared this...

"I think we really need to assemble the whole Council for this," Maethion said.

Vernik and Madri exchanged tense glances.

Vernik broke the silence. "No. We’re not assembling the whole Council for this."

Maethion sighed, the lines of frustration evident on his face. "Let’s hope," he said slowly, his tone heavy with resignation, "that this anomaly really isn’t going to threaten us. Ever."

Vernik’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing more.

---

Clyde was already making his way down the fortress corridors. His mind was elsewhere now.

Beside him, Hammer walked silently, his broad shoulders slumped slightly. The dwarf had nothing to say — or perhaps didn’t know how to say it. He occasionally glanced at Clyde, but the latter’s face was unreadable as always.

When they reached an intersection in the fortress streets, Hammer paused. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly and said. "I’ll be headin’ back to the workshop, then."

Clyde gave a curt nod without breaking stride.

Hammer watched him for a moment longer before turning and heading down a narrower path.

Clyde continued forward approaching the quieter residential quarters of the fortress.

When he reached his living quarters, Clyde pushed open the door with little care, letting it swing shut behind him.

He shrugged off his coat, tossing it over the back of a chair, and sank into a seat at the small table in the corner of the room. His fingers drummed against the worn wood as he stared blankly at the far wall.

For the first time in a long while, Clyde allowed himself to stop. To think.

The substance. The way it had addressed him. The implications of Maethion’s words.

"Something older," he muttered to himself. "Something worse."

The words echoed in his mind like a mantra, refusing to be silenced. It was a storm on the horizon. And Clyde had the sinking feeling it was heading straight for them.

A faint hum of energy coursing through his mind as a telepathic link solidified. The sensation was familiar.

"Asqa?" Clyde said through the connection, his tone a mix of surprise and relief. "It’s been so long. How are you doing?"

A soft chuckle resonated in his mind, like a whisper carried on a breeze. "I’m fine, Clyde. Busy, as always. But this isn’t a casual check-in. I have information, and I thought of you first."

Clyde’s brow furrowed. "What kind of information?"

"Have you heard anything about a Black Wall?" Asqa asked.

Clyde froze, his fingers ceasing their rhythmic drumming on the table. The words felt heavy, pulling his mind back to the strange substance Maethion had just discussed.

"Black Wall?" he echoed. "No. Why are you asking?"

"Because it’s a thing that had making the Archangel very busy lately."

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