Entering Apocalypse in Easy-Mode
Chapter 295: Consideration

Chapter 295: Consideration

Clyde leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, fingers steepled as his frown deepened.

The connection with Asqa hummed faintly in his mind.

Asqa speaking with her calm smooth girly voice.

"The Black Wall," Clyde repeated. "What exactly is it?"

"I’ll tell you what I know, but it won’t be the full picture. Even here in Uriel’s domain, knowledge of the Black Wall is scarce. It’s an anomaly and they can’t determine what it is."

Clyde remained silent, letting her continue.

"It appeared suddenly," she said. "No warning or sign. Just... suddenly there. It was a massive wall of darkness that spanning hundred of meters. Based on what I heard from its description, Its surface is featureless but it exudes a mysterious aura that even the higher beings hesitate to approach too closely."

"Do you have any information about what’s beyond it?" Clyde asked with low voice. .

"No one knows about that yet here. That’s the thing. The wall isn’t just a barrier and it’s impenetrable. Energy attacks, divine blessings, demonic power... nothing works against it. But whatever’s on the other side seems to be aware of us. They even send waves of black monsters that seems never stop."

Clyde’s fingers tapped against the table rhythmically, his mind swirling. "Aware how? And what about the monsters?"

"I’m not really sure..." Asqa said, her tone darkening. "The monsters that emerge from it are creatures that looks twisted and wrong. They’re not Demons, not Angels, or Celestials. They’re... alien, for lack of a better term."

Clyde narrowed his eyes. "And they’re keeping the higher beings busy?"

"Yes," Asqa confirmed. "There are constant battles near the Black Wall, Clyde. Some of the Celestials, Angels, and Demons are stationed there to hold the line. Even the Archangels are taking shifts guarding it. Uriel herself also there."

The weight of her words settled heavily in Clyde’s chest. If the higher beings with all their power and influence were struggling against whatever this was, it meant the threat was serious.

"Why haven’t I heard about this before?" Clyde asked, his tone edged with frustration.

"Because the information on it are being contained. Even here, there not many who knows about this. I was lucky," Asqa said.

Clyde fell silent for few moments.

"Do you know how to get to the Black Wall?" Clyde asked.

"Not yet," Asqa replied. "I have a few leads, but the details are unclear. Give me some time. I think I’m close to know more."

"Alright," Clyde said, his voice softening slightly. "But be careful, Asqa. And... thank you."

A brief pause hung in the connection before Asqa responded with reassuring tone. "Always, Clyde."

Asqa sighed. "Clyde. I’m not saying you should stay out of it but tread carefully."

"Yeah. Don’t worry about me, Asqa," Clyde said, his voice cold and certain.

Asqa was silent for a moment, then spoke softly. "Be careful, Clyde."

The connection then faded, leaving Clyde alone with his thoughts. The room felt colder, emptier without her presence in his mind.

He rose from his chair, his movements deliberate and precise. Grabbing his coat, he shrugged it back on and stepped toward the door.

The Black Wall was keeping the higher beings occupied, and Asqa said that it was an anomaly. Just like the creature he found in those Ruins.

Clyde knew he wasn’t about to sit idly by while an unknown event loomed on the horizon.

Clyde took the black rune-etched stone and held it firmly in his hand. It felt cold to the touch, its surface smooth but also heavy with the weight of Demonic power.

Channeling his magic power into it, he focused and feeling the energy flow through his veins and into the artifact.

Minutes passed, and still, there was no response.

Clyde’s jaw tightened, his frustration growing as the effort began to weigh on him.

He grunted under his breath, gritting his teeth as his an oyance built. Finally, after what felt like an eternity — ten long minutes of pouring his magic into it — he heard her voice.

"It’s not done yet. Be patient and don’t call me right now."

Graemory’s telepathic voice cut through the silence. She sounded sharp and filled with irritation. Clyde could feel the anger emanating through their connection. Bit he didn’t care.

Clyde’s lips pressed into a thin line. He don’t have time for patience so he will get to the point.

"Okay," he said. "I think you know something about the Black Wall. And I believe you’re already aware that the substance I found is somehow connected to it."

A tense silence followed,l after his words, stretching nearly twenty seconds. Clyde remained still and waiting.

The telepathic connection was still active — he could sense her presence that feels like a faint echo in his mind — but she didn’t reply immediately.

Finally, Graemory’s voice returned, colder and more calculating this time. "How did you come to know about that?"

"It doesn’t matter," Clyde replied curtly. "I just know."

Another pause. Clyde could feel the weight of her consideration, as though she was measuring his words.

"Well, since you already know, there’s nothing more for me to talk about," she said, her tone clipped. "Tomorrow, I will meet you. Then we’ll talk."

"Alright," Clyde said simply.

And just like that, the connection severed, leaving him in silence once more.

Clyde exhaled heavily, leaning back in his chair.

But then he stood, sliding the rune stone into his coat pocket, and strode toward the window.

The city stretched out before him, a glowing maze of light and shadow, its neon brilliance cutting through the eternal night.

Clyde stared out of the window some more time, his reflection barely visible against the city lights.

The neon glow painted his features in hues of blue and orange, but his thoughts were far darker than the view before him.

His mind churned with unease, piecing together the fragments of knowledge he had gathered so far.

The Black Wall. The twisted creatures and the strange substance from them. Everything pointed to something far beyond his understanding — something that defied the laws of this world and tied him to forces he couldn’t yet comprehend.

He frowned, the weight of the unknown pressing on him. If he kept digging, he was sure that it was only a matter of time before someone — or something — took notice.

This place, this refuge for so many beings who had lost their home world, could be compromised because of his actions.

Clyde sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t a hero. He didn’t have grand ideals about saving the world or protecting others.

He had always been a survivor, someone who looked out for himself.

Yet, despite that, the thought of innocent lives being endangered because of him left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"I can’t stay here," he muttered to himself.

The Resistance had taken him in, offering sanctuary when he had none. The people here fought their battles, dreamed their small dreams, and clung to hope in a world that had long since crumbled.

He had no right to bring more danger to their doorstep, no matter how much he tried to keep his distance.

The idea of leaving gnawed at him. It wasn’t that he had grown attached to this place but the knowledge that his presence could lead to its downfall stirred something unfamiliar within him.

Responsibility, perhaps.

He turned from the window, his gaze sweeping the room. Sparse and practical, like everything the Resistance offered.

He didn’t need much, and they didn’t have much to give. But it had been enough.

His hand brushed against the pocket where the rune stone lay, its weight grounding him.

Tomorrow, Graemory would meet him, and answers would hopefully come.

But he couldn’t afford to wait too long. The higher beings were preoccupied with the Black Wall, and whatever lay beyond it was also stirring at his instincts.

Clyde clenched his fists. If he left, it wasn’t for redemption or some grand purpose. It was strategy. Survival. And maybe, just maybe, a sliver of guilt.

He grabbed his pack and began to gather his belongings, his movements swift and deliberate.

Weapons, supplies, and anything else he might need for the road.

His departure would have to be quiet and unnoticed. He wouldn’t risk the Resistance stopping him—or worse, trying to join him.

As he fastened his coat and slung the pack over his shoulder, he cast one last glance around the room. It wasn’t home but it had been a refuge.

"Better this way," he muttered.

Clyde didn’t know where his path after departing from here would lead or what he would uncover, but he knew one thing for certain, he can not stay here any longer.

---

The next day arrived, and Clyde stepped through the shimmering portal, emerging once again into the desolate expanse of the swamp.

The air was thick with the stench of decay, and the ground beneath him was a patchwork of slick mud and stagnant water.

Without hesitation, he leaped onto the gnarled branches of nearby trees. He navigated the twisted maze of roots and foliage, avoiding the mid and diety water below with ease.

In the distance, a figure came into view, standing amidst the swamp’s gloom. Graemory waited.

Clyde landed lightly in front of her, the tree branch creaking faintly under his weight before he dropped to solid ground.

Clyde glanced and saw Graemory’s unhappy face.

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