Reincarnated Jester: Taming Players-Chapter 105: Skinning The Cat

HugeP wanted to wait for them, believing that they would respawn.

Little did he know it was impossible.

Dead players wouldn’t return.

At least for now, but HugeP didn’t want to believe that.

He was furious because of the loss, yet he handled it like a good leader, calming everyone down.

If there was no spawn point for them to return to, players were programmed to rise from the place they had died.

Hours went by, and HugeP’s hope wavered until he had to face the truth that they wouldn’t come back.

Jung watched as the situation unfolded.

He didn’t react at all, except that his desire to spank Nero intensified tenfold.

It wouldn’t have come to that if she had done her job and protected the players.

"What a bummer," Jung said after seeing their dejected expressions.

"But it’s all good. Now we know you can’t revive in this place. All you have to do is not die. It shouldn’t be too hard. Look at me; I have one life, and I am better than all of you combined."

He wasn’t shy about boasting.

Yet his words were true, and just because the players couldn’t respawn, it didn’t mean they should give up.

They revered Balatro, especially in this realm, after getting to know him better.

Not only was he unbelievably strong, but he also had unexplainable connections to divine beings.

His status and words worked wonders.

Players gained peace and confidence to go on, trusting him to save their asses.

As for the dead, they couldn’t contact them to question their situation.

Honestly, Jung didn’t give a single fuck about them.

His attention was captured by the path he had to take, and he was the first one to walk.

Nero quickly hopped on his shoulders, meowing cutely and innocently.

Others followed his steps, crossing snowy hills and searching for something they didn’t know.

Not that Jung would consider their feelings...

He walked through the blizzard without taking a break, conversing with players and the system.

"How do you guys like Maskera?"

"It’s great. I constantly forget that this is just a game."

"Fighting is so much fun, but goddammit, it’s too hard."

"Everything is so beautiful and fresh here. I think I prefer Maskera over Earth."

Everyone talked, trying to suck up to him.

Of course, it wouldn’t escape his radar, but Jung didn’t care one bit.

On the contrary, he enjoyed their dumb talk, and he felt liberated after toying with them.

"This is a game where dreams are born and die while I get stronger," he said. "I’m all ears—how awful of gamers are you?"

He asked, leaving them in a tough spot.

[Leave them be. Take a break—you don’t have to be an asshole all the time,] Vex scolded.

"I guess that’s who I am. But that’s the way to have some fun."

[I can’t argue against that.]

The hill climbing lasted for hours.

Jung’s stamina was superb, and he could endure it for days.

Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said about players, and they wearied themselves in quick succession.

Yet, they didn’t want to impede Balatro, so they kept wrestling with the exhaustion.

Jung noticed their sorry state, but he pushed them more.

As the snow deepened, the temperature dropped, the storm advanced and even walking became a challenge.

Not for Jung and absolutely not for Nero, who never left her comfort zone.

[Take a break,] the system said. [You need to stay in this place.]

"What for? What’s going to happen here?"

There was nothing around them—only the same scenery, covered with broken weapons and frozen snow.

He couldn’t notice anything interesting in this location.

Hence, his confusion was born.

[Someone will come here. It’s important for you to meet them.]

She explained.

But as per usual, only one side of it was spelled out, forcing his mind to envision various scenarios.

’Is it gonna be a ruler god?’

Thinking about the person whom the system meant, Jung considered a couple of options.

’Or is it gonna be Snowshade? What if it’s Elara?’

As if she could read even his thoughts, the system broke his heart.

[It’s not Elara. But I think you will like them.]

"I doubt they can like him back," Nero grumbled. "He is a prick, after all."

Jung didn’t answer her directly but asked the players ominously.

"Do any of you know how to skin a cat? I won’t judge, but I might need some help."

He emphasized every word.

Nero didn’t shudder at his words, giggling and licking her snowy paws.

Players were stunned.

They stopped next to him, guessing that he was joking based on his tone.

However, one psycho existed everywhere.

The rebel archetype player neared Jung proudly.

"I know how to skin a cat. Do you need a hand?"

That wasn’t all.

He started rambling about how to catch cats, how to handle them, and finally, how to kill them.

His every word caused Jung’s brows to lower.

As a cat enthusiast, he despised people like him more than anyone.

Not holding himself back, Jung’s hands moved, clasping the player’s throat and increasing the strength of his grip with each passing second to maximize the pain the hideous player experienced.

The rebel gasped, desperate for help and air.

Neither of them reached him until his vision darkened.

Just before he died, Jung let go of his throat, dropping the man to the ground.

He had no words to say.

And he had no intention of leaving the man alive.

Jung wasn’t so kind to forgive this sin, and after the struggling player got up, thinking that he was excused, his hands strangled the man again.

He didn’t stop this time and finished what he started.

Then he dropped the corpse in cold snow, not even devouring his filthy flesh.

’I am the only one who could bully Nero. No one is allowed to do that,’ he thought.

As players watched his actions, loud claps echoed in the fog, startling everyone, including Jung.

’Who is it? I can’t find it!’

Even he couldn’t pinpoint the location where the sound came from.

Nor could he see who it was.

Yet the clapping continued until it was replaced by an eerie voice.

"What a marvellous show of leadership!"