Laughter heard the sounds all around him as he stood in the garden. The sounds of slaughter taking place in the city at the hands of the demons. Children screamed, and adults cried. The awakened brought skill and steel onto them in an attempt to bring back order.

  [Patrick Glorieux]

  [Awakening Stage: Fourth Stage]

  [Classes:]

  Master Pugilist

  [Class Skills:]

  Unknown

  Laughter's enemy wasn't the demons. It was the man standing across the garden from him. Patrick had now removed his trench coat, revealing a white long-sleeved shirt beneath that clung tight to his muscles. There was a small crowd watching them: the Glorieux family, as well as their knights and a few servants. They all had looks of urgency on their faces. Whatever was about to happen, they wanted it to be over with quickly so that they could flee from the ruined city.

  "I'll tell you what, son," Patrick said, rolling his sleeves up. "I'll let you strike first."

  Laughter twirled his daggers in his hand and crouched low. His opponent was large, so keeping himself small would allow him to combat that. He glanced at his sister in the crowd, hiding behind one of the knights with a look of fear on her face.

  Don't worry, Rosie. This will all end here. This excuse for a father will die now.

  Laughter dashed across the grass towards his father. The giant man didn't react until his son had stepped into range. But then, just before stepping into his space, Laughter dashed to the side and hurled one of the daggers towards his father. The man's brow raised as he watched the blade fly towards him in his peripheral vision. He raised a hand to catch the blade, preparing to defend from the attack. But then laughter snapped his fingers, the dagger disappeared, and he was now in its place; up close and personal with his father.

  "Hmm?"

  Laughter held his remaining dagger in a backhanded grip and thrust it into his father's abdomen. The blade only went an inch in, as the man's body felt hard as steel. If Laughter hadn't augmented his strike with a swordsman skill called Pierce, it might not have entered him at all.

  Blood welled at the wound, and Patrick looked down at his son with no reaction. Laughter withdrew his knife and dashed backwards, putting distance between himself and his father again. Patrick's arms remained crossed. A smile even spread across his face as he watched Laughter retrieve the knife he had switched places with.

  "Interesting." The man said, poking at his wound. "I guess that's some sort of illusionist skill? You're definitely your mother's son. No strength, only tricks."

  Laughter's mind was clouded by rage. He almost forgot that his role of a jester was to entertain. To never lose his whimsy. He let a smile spread across his face.

  "The jester doesn't need strength. Only tricks." He responded.

  "The Jester will need strength when a fist crashes into his jaw," Patrick responded. "Let's see who's right."

  The giant man suddenly dashed forward with speed that he shouldn't have had. A gust of wind blew from behind him, and his heavy feet left a crater in the ground beneath him with every step. The next moment, Laughter looked up to find his father standing over him, a fist raised and ready to crush him into the earth.

  All he could do was raise a futile guard. The force of the blow crashed into both forearms with the sound of an explosion. He felt both of his arms shatter as he was sent flying backwards, tumbling across the grass like a doll. By the time he came to a stop, he was left lying by the entrance to the garden. An immense amount of pain clouded his thoughts, and his vision became blurred. A constant ringing sounded in his ears, drowning out the noise of his family's worry and the city's battles.

  "What was he thinking?"

  "Poor child."

  "The only male heir to the Glorieux family reduced to nothing."

  "What did you expect. The boy is a jester."

  Once his vision had cleared enough, he looked up from where he stood. His father was slowly walking towards him, with a look on his face that suggested he wasn't feeling merciful.

  Is this the end, then?

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  In the background, Laughter spotted his sister. Tears streaked down her face as she tried her best to run towards her beaten brother, but was ultimately held back by the guards. They all knew that if she got involved, Patrick was cruel enough to make her meet the same fate as her brother was about to face.

  Patrick stood over Laughter, reached down and picked him up by his orange hair. The boy hung in his grip limply, before being lifted higher, as though he were a trophy.

  "There is no place for weakness in the Glorieux family." The man spoke, loud and proud. The other members of the garden were silent, except for Rosie, who continued to cry. "As you can see, the apocalypse is well underway. If we wish to survive, we must cling to the Emperor. We must cling to Emperor Alom the Unfortunate as if our lives depend on it. And that man, he does not, like, weakness."

  Patrick looked over at his son. He looked at the way that his forearms bent backwards at wrong angles from only one punch. Then, he laughed.

  "The Emperor will not accept people like him into the new world. People who not only fail to hold their tongues in the presence of the strong, but also fail to defend themselves when the strong retaliate... This is what I think of the weak."

  Suddenly, Laughter watched as Patrick's other hand reached towards his face. At first, he wondered what was going on. The hand came closer, and the fingers took on a claw shape.

  "No," Laughter made a groan through the pain. "No, no—"

  His voice was cut off by a sickening squelch, followed by a cry louder than any others that came before. He felt his body being tossed to the ground, at the same time that the hot sensation spread throughout his face. He did not see anything, though. No, his vision had been reduced to entire darkness. The cries came from his family once again. Not just Rosie this time, though hers were the loudest.

  Laughter felt unable to scream. The pain was unbearable, but all he felt like doing at that moment was giving up. It felt as though a force was begging to take his consciousness from him, and he was tempted to let it have him. If not for the arms that eventually wrapped around him, and the sobbing voice that spoke close to his ear, he truly would have given up.

  "Brother, why..." Rosie spoke as she looked at the state of her brother. "Why did you have to fight him?"

  Laughter didn't respond.

  "Your eye, Laughter. Your only good eye!"

  That's fine. He had already taken the first. He was just finishing the job.

  "Why, why, why!"

  Rosie rested her head on Laughter's chest. He felt her tears dampening his uniform, but wondered whether that might just be the blood from his eye socket.

  "Why..." Rosie looked up at her brother. She then noticed something fall from the boy's breast pocket. She didn't know whether it was an accident or intentional, but the item was familiar to her. After all, Laughter had shown it to her many times before.

  She lifted the item in her hand, then looked at her brother. To her surprise, there was a smile on his face, though faint.

  "The Ace of Spades." Laughter's voices croaked, barely able to be heard over the sounds of the Glorieux family arguing behind them. "You always wondered why my tricks led to you pulling that card every single time. You always wanted the Queen's and the Diamonds."

  Rosie's face went still. It was a memory that she was familiar with, but she didn't understand the reason why her brother was bringing it up now. Was it his dying words?

  "Brother, why are you mentioning this now. You're going to live, I promise. We can run away from our father. From the entire Glorieux family."

  Laughter chuckled. "My dear sister. Father will never let me leave. If I don't bleed out here, he will come over and finish the job. Look at him."

  Rosie turned to look at Patrick. The man's anger only seemed to be growing further, as his brother and sister told him that he had gone too far. His sleeves remained rolled up, and he constantly glanced over at Laughter with animosity on his face. He wanted to end it all before leaving the Undying City behind him.

  "T-then what can we do?" Rosie asked, hopelessly.

  "We can't do anything, Rosie." Laughter replied, fumbling his hand for the card, and eventually managing to take hold of it. Then, he flipped it and showed it to his sister.

  At that moment, a strange sensation suddenly took over her. One that she had never felt before. As she looked at the Ace of Spades card, it no longer felt like a mere object. Instead, it felt like a living power, trying to escape the item and find a new object to live inside of. The black symbol on the card had suddenly started to fade away, and at the same time, Rosie felt a slight burning sensation on her abdomen. She rubbed at the location, but since she was wearing a dress, she could not see what was happening to her. She could only feel it. It felt similar to what Laughter had described to her on the day that he had awakened.

  She focused on the word Overview, and was met with the foreign information system.

  [Rosie Glorieux]

  [Awakening Stage: First Stage]

  [Classes:]

  Grandmaster Reaper

  [Class Skills:]

  Beginning After The End (Temporary Reaper Skill)

  Laughter waited for ten seconds. He was able to take guesses at what was happening, but couldn't see it. He didn't speak as he wanted his sister to best understand the changes that were taking place in her body, even if he himself didn't know what they were. All he could do was hope. He had seen what the King of Hearts was able to do for Leox. He could only hope that the Ace of Spades was enough for Rosie.

  Eventually, he heard his sister rise to her feet.

  "Rosie?" He croaked.

  "Thank you, brother. Wait here for me." She said in a much calmer voice than he had heard before. Then, her footsteps slowly travelled away from him and towards the sounds of the Glorieux family.

  Sis?

  The sounds of the family's arguments died down as they likely spotted the approaching daughter. The sister of the boy who had just been left completely blinded.

  "What's with the look on your face?" Patrick's voice came aggressively. "Want to meet the same fate as—"

  His voice was suddenly cut off, as were all others. Other than the sounds of battle in the city, the garden was completely silent. Laughter wished that he had his vision. From his position, he had no clue what was going on. None at all.

  "Rosie? Are you still there?"

  The soft footsteps approached again, before he felt a handkerchief dab at his cheeks, clearing them of their blood. Afterwards, he was helped to his feet by the delicate hands.

  "It's done, brother. We can finally escape. Just tell me where to take you, and I'll never leave your side."