Reincarnated Jester: Taming Players-Chapter 77: Whimsical Wizard

"Time for round two. Let’s off these losers."

Jung called Nero and smiled maniacally with her.

They didn’t have to wait too long.

Ten seconds later, the light-bringers arrived, and the first player spawned on the floor, looking both bitter and resentful.

He was the first one to die; that’s why he was the first one to revive.

Materializing on the ground, this poor sage archetype player stood alone against the hungry beasts.

"What th-" he wanted to shout, but Nero’s shadowy pillar flattened him on the ground.

"At least let him breathe," Jung laughingly scolded the cat.

Soon, other players arrived, and the perfectly clean floor and fresh scent were replaced by a metallic and heavy smell.

Unfinished screams echoed in the room. freewebnøvel.coɱ

Player after player dropped to the ground, dead but still warm, transforming into mist and flying in Jung’s direction.

Death became a familiar sight, painting Jung with the filthy colour of blood.

Yet, his fists and kicks never missed the mark. He was as deadly as always, and his body could move according to every demand he had.

Punching the guts out of the wizard player, Jung was upon another one in a second.

His movements were rhythmical, following the unrecognizable pattern he had to cultivate for over twelve lifetimes.

Every single archetype and life he led were with him.

No one, except the system, could decipher them, but he was the only one who could feel them.

He was or would become the Keeper.

Someone who collected personalities, histories, sorrow, and bliss, keeping all of them to transform, improve, and most of all, to live.

Jung dashed, smashing the closest player, slaying it instantly.

Then, an unnoticed mask appeared on his face, giving him even more power to dominate... to conquer... to decimate...

[Wizard Archetype is selected.]

Two times in a row, the wizard archetype was chosen.

It made him reminisce about his past.

The wizard archetype had been full of whimsical adventures.

Yet he had done nothing extraordinary at that point.

But to him, the lonely journeys, travelling, and constant pondering with magical orbs or simply normal items were great sources of peace.

With no conflict around, no people, and no magic to study, Jung had lived like a total freak, having left society at a very young age.

It was a normal, mediaeval, and boring world.

However, he liked every aspect of those times.

At this moment, his every Arc worked to the limits, aiding him to massacre as many players as he could without even letting them ask questions.

Both Jung and Nero camped for the players to arrive, slaughtering them with a terrifying efficiency.

Once they stepped foot on the ground, they were dead.

The Poker Bros guild members had already lost their current tier progress, but with this second death, their attributes were lowered by a whopping 10%.

They screamed, begged, and threatened, yet the outcome never changed.

"How long are you guys going to keep doing that?" Snowshade asked.

This time her concentration was on the cat.

Jung was the beast of his own league, but his little, cute, and harmless creature was a deadly psycho who enjoyed the act of killing as much as he did.

Snowshade was concerned about humanity’s fate. If these two were its guardians, the situation didn’t look too promising.

But their strength was no joke, and adding future potential that she couldn’t even gauge, the feat she was watching was only the beginning.

Jung slowed down, his senses dulling, and the strength betrayed.

The wizard archetype and the boost it fetched wore off.

He had another, sillier tactic to abuse and troll players, which suddenly sounded like a great idea.

With a whooshing sound that Jung didn’t make with his mouth, he slammed the shield bearer into the wall, then stomped on his vulnerable head, shattering it.

The poor soul couldn’t wail. No prayers saved him.

However, he wasn’t the only one who experienced the same fate.

"You should be grateful," he roared like it was a battle cry. "Dying by my hands is like getting my autographs."

His cynical attitude never disappeared, and it was shown in this fight.

Suddenly, his movements changed.

They became more wobbly, unpredictable, and shapeless.

Jung moved his limbs like rubber.

Watching him created a comical atmosphere. Even the corpses, despite their pitiful condition, were shortly forgotten.

His hands ricocheted on his enemies, purposely confusing them for not dying on the spot.

He wasn’t satisfied, though.

Shifting his weight from the legs to his hands, Jung walked on his upper limbs.

Why he did it this way was nothing but a mystery.

There was no way he could fight like this.

[You are drunk on the attention,] Vex would have facepalmed herself if she had hands.

Luckily, she could only speak and laugh at Jung, whose wandering mind had come back.

"Damn, you are right," admitting his mistake, Jung corrected his posture and went back to the one-sided battle.

"You are embarrassing," Nero had enough time in her paws to make fun of him.

"Let a man be free," Jung retorted, kicking one player on the bum while jabbing another in the jaw.

Feeling no resistance in his hands, he chose another target to bully. He was in the mood to toy with them.

Slowing his breathing and movement speed, Jung concentrated on his vision. Every fight was proof of his progress, and actually seeing it gave him joy and hope for the future.

His eyes could see clearer than ever, perceiving the space or enemy, and the slight fluctuation in the air didn’t even demand an excessive amount of concentration.

Jung read not only how their muscles twitched before the movement even started but also wasn’t limited to the almost omniscient third-person perspective either.

The ability to virtually slow time offered him a chance to predict and adapt to almost every situation.

However, the fact that this ability was evolving through every flesh he devoured specified how terrifying he would become in the future.

So he was slow and moved heavily as if he was filled with food and alcohol alike.

Yet, not once did these thousands of players manage to touch him.

Another five to ten minutes later, only three players remained.

Nothing had changed.

The guild leader, the creator, and the wizard player bowed before the duo, while Jung with Nero sitting on his shoulder, smiled viciously.