CHAPTER 59: CHAPTER: 59 WHO CAN ESCAPE FATE OTHER THAN YOU?

Ravan’s eyes widened in shock, his lips trembling as he muttered, "A-are you sure this will work?"

His voice quivered with doubt as he glanced at the Clown, uncertainty written all over his face.

The Clown only shrugged. "It’ll work, if you cooperate, that is." His tone was light, almost playful.

However, behind the painted smile, a cold glint flickered in his eyes as he watched Ravan’s hesitant expression.

Although Ravan appeared calm and thoughtful on the outside, deep down he was filled with excitement.

’If this works,’ he thought, ’then the other two ducal houses will be on their knees before me.’

A cold light flickered across his face as he spoke, "Why me? I’m sure plenty of nobles, except a few loyal ones, would have agreed."

The Clown smiled, his eyes deep and unreadable.

"Are you asking because you don’t know," he said softly, "or because you’re trying to probe me?"

He paused for a moment, as if lost in thought, then continued, "Well, whatever the case,"

"I chose you because you hold the highest position besides the other two ducal houses, and because you’re the greediest person in the entire empire."

Being called the greediest man in the empire didn’t offend Ravan.

Instead, a flicker of excitement flashed across his face. ’If this plan succeeds,’ he thought, ’I might even overthrow the entire empire.’

Unable to hide his growing eagerness, he asked, "Earlier, you said you could stop that child’s growth..."

He paused, giving the Clown a meaningful look. "Are you going to do it now?"

The Clown burst into laughter. "Hahaha!"

By now, Ravan was used to his strange behavior, so he didn’t react.

The Clown eventually calmed down and said, "It’ll take some preparation, but yes, I’ll do it. You’ll know when the time comes."

"Hmm!" Ravan hummed softly in response. "Can it be cured?" he asked.

This was the most important question Ravan needed answered.

If the child could be cured, then the meaning behind the Clown’s title, Heaven’s Child, would make him unstoppable.

No matter how long it took to lift the curse, the child would remain a threat.

So to stop him completely he would need to kill him.

Killing him would have been far easier, but for some reason the Clown refused.

Ravan couldn’t act on his own, yet he vowed that if any opportunity presented itself in the future, he would take it.

Ravan’s train of thought was broken by the Clown’s calm voice. "Although this curse is difficult, almost impossible, to break, it will claim his life within fifteen or sixteen years."

He paused, the words sank in and continued, "But if he somehow manages to break it, there will be certain... benefits."

Ravan frowned slightly, a thoughtful look crossing his face.

This frown on Ravan’s face, was a frown of uncertainty.

From what the Clown had said, if the child managed to break through the curse, it could actually make his talent even more heaven-defying.

But a darker thought crossed his mind. ’If I could use that curse on him again...’

He licked his lips slowly, eyes glinting with greed, before asking, "How does the curse work?"

If he could learn how the curse worked, he could identify its type and understand why the Clown sounded so certain.

Even the smallest hint would be priceless, enough for him to weaponize the curse on others, and on that cripple as well.

A cold hunger settled over him at the thought, sharpening the grin that never quite reached his eyes.

The Clown’s lips curled into a mischievous smile.

His voice carried a teasing softness, almost like a lover whispering to his beloved. "Oh my, aren’t you a curious one?"

The clown gave him a deep look, before saying, "Very well, listen closely, it’s connected to the heart and the mana core."

"Heart and mana core?" Ravan repeated, confusion written across his face. ’What kind of curse affects both?’ he wondered.

He knew of many curses, yet none that touched both the heart and the mana core at once.

The thought made his brows knit together in a deep frown.

"Yes," the Clown confirmed.

He pondered for a while, trying to guess what kind of curse it could be, but no answer came to mind.

Just as he was about to probe for more information, he began, "So what other....huh?"

Before Ravan could finish, the Clown vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving him dumbstruck in the now-silent, messy room.

Though shock ran through him, an even stronger feeling followed, a cold dread that made him sink into his chair.

The way the Clown had disappeared...it was like teleportation.

Ravan hadn’t sensed a thing until he realized the spot where the Clown had been sitting was empty.

"Haa..." He let out a long breath of relief, though beneath it lingered a spark of excitement.

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he muttered, "So, there really is another continent, huh?"

Though it was hard to believe, the Clown had explained how he came to this continent.

He revealed that there was another land, the continent of Axian, lying at the far end of Elora, their own continent.

The Clown hadn’t shared much about this mysterious place, but from what little he said, Ravan could tell that Axian was far more advanced than Elora.

He muttered softly, "The world is truly vast."

All his life, he had believed the world ended with their continent.

Everything beyond was endless sea, and the people of Elora lacked the technology to travel far enough to prove otherwise.

It was only natural they never imagined another continent existed, one with a far more advanced civilization.

"A frog in a well thinks the world revolves around that well," he murmured, a faint smile twisting his lips. "But it never knows there’s a world beyond those walls..."

He chuckled quietly, a cold light flickering in his eyes.

"Hahaha... fate really is unpredictable," he laughed, his voice echoing with madness as wild thoughts filled his mind.

’If everything goes well," he muttered, "no one will be able to stop me. I, Ravan Tramplin, will become the ruler of this continent, hahahahaha!"

Meanwhile, in the distance, the Clown gazed toward the direction of the Tramplin House, a mysterious light flickering in his eyes.

There was no trace of his usual eccentricity, none of the madness, laughter, or sudden bursts of emotion.

All of it was gone. What remained was only a chilling calm.

Slowly, he raised a hand to his face and removed his mask.

Beneath it was a sight that could make even the bravest soul shudder, a face horribly burned, twisted by old scars and pain.

The face beneath the mask was so disfigured that even his own mother wouldn’t have recognized him, and might have turned away in disgust at the sight.

He stared at the mask in his hand for a long moment before shifting his gaze south, toward the lands of the Zenithara House.

"Heaven’s Child, huh?" he muttered. His expression was unreadable, but in his eyes flickered something unmistakable, fear.

He hadn’t told Ravan everything. The title Heaven’s Child wasn’t given to that boy merely because of talent.

It meant something far deeper... and far more dangerous.

With a deep sigh, he placed the Clown mask back over his face. "No matter how hard one tries, changing fate is never easy for those bound by its threads,"

He murmured. "We can only struggle to escape... but tell me, my lord, who in this world truly can other than you?"

He lowered his gaze from the southern horizon and looked up at the distant sky.

For a brief moment, a quiet respect glimmered in his eyes.

Yet beneath that respect, other emotions stirred, ones far more complex and harder to name.

Emotions such as hatred, anger, and disgust swirled beneath his calm expression.

It was as if that respectful gaze he showed toward the sky was only a mask, one meant to hide the storm raging within him.

But as those feelings grew stronger, a sudden, sharp pain tore through his head.

He clutched it tightly, his knees giving way beneath him.

The pain came without warning, fierce and unbearable, yet the Clown didn’t utter a single sound.

He simply gritted his teeth and endured.

And then, out of nowhere, a figure appeared in his mind.

The figure had no face, just a shapeless outline moving through the void.

Soon, others appeared beside it, walking past him like shadows from another world.

"Aaahhhhhh!" The Clown let out a scream that tore through the silence, raw and piercing.

The pain in his head grew unbearable, and the faceless figures became clearer, sharper, too real.

His mind burned as his sense of self began to blur... then suddenly, he was there.

He found himself inside a glass tube filled with thick, green liquid.

His body floated, limp and unconscious, trapped like a specimen on display.

"No... no... what is this?" he stammered, his voice trembling with fear and disbelief.

And just as the memory grew sharper, on the verge of revealing the truth—

Boom!

The Clown’s mask exploded without warning, splattering his face with a strange acidic liquid.

His skin burned and smoked, but there was no sign of pain. He simply stood there, motionless.

His eyes turned cloudy, unfocused, and he began muttering something incomprehensible.

Then, out of nowhere, tears streamed down his face.

But this crying was different. It wasn’t the usual madness he showed, it carried a deep, aching sorrow, as if something inside him had shattered.

Yet the grief didn’t last long. Within moments, his sobs twisted into laughter.

"Hahahahahaha!"

The sound echoed through the air, wild and broken, as his eyes grew even duller.

And then, just like that, he was gone, vanishing into thin air, leaving only silence behind.