Chapter 45: Clown in Action

The diner was a snapshot of Americana frozen in time, chrome accents, red vinyl booths, and the faint hum of a jukebox playing a tune that no one really listened to. Arlo sat in his corner booth, sipping coffee that had long gone lukewarm. Link lay at his feet, gnawing on a eggs and bacon with the kind of enthusiasm only a Rockruff could muster. The calm was deceptive, a thin veneer over the storm brewing just beneath the surface.

Arlo glanced at Link, who was preoccupied with sniffing around their table.

"Stay here, buddy. I'm just heading to the restroom," he said.

Link tilted his head in acknowledgment before curling up on the floor. Arlo gave a slight smile, then stood and walked toward the restrooms at the back of the diner.

The restroom was dimly lit, a flickering fluorescent light casting uneven shadows on the walls. Arlo entered the male restroom, choosing the furthest cubicle for some semblance of privacy. He locked the door, leaned against it for a moment, and took a deep breath.

"Alright," he muttered to himself, reaching into his inventory and pulling out the small, ornate bottle containing the Clown potion.

Its swirling, vibrant colors looked deceptively inviting, like some sort of mystical fruit punch. Arlo knew better. He placed the bottle on the metal toilet paper dispenser and sat on the closed toilet lid, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He closed his eyes and began meditating, his breathing slow and steady. Preparing his mind was crucial; this wasn't just any potion, this was the next step in his advancement. 

After a few minutes, Arlo felt centered enough. 

"Alright, no point in dragging this out," he said, uncorking the bottle.

The moment the seal broke, a sharp, almost metallic scent hit his nostrils, making him wince. He hesitated for a second, then tilted the bottle back and gulped the liquid down.

The taste was immediately revolting, a mix of bitter herbs and something indescribably rancid. Arlo's face twisted in disgust as he swallowed, muttering to himself, "Why do these always taste like crap?"

He slammed the bottle down on the dispenser and leaned forward, bracing himself for the effects.

The moment the seal broke, a sharp, almost metallic scent hit his nostrils, making him wince. He hesitated for a second, then tilted the bottle back and gulped the liquid down.

"Great," he groaned, clutching the edges of the toilet seat.

I look like a boiled crab. His attempt at humor did little to distract from the pain.

The sensation shifted as if his entire body was being rewired. Arlo felt his spirit and mind stretching thin, as though being threaded through the eye of a needle. His vision blurred, replaced by a projection of his own form, a surreal, almost cartoonish reflection of himself singing and gesturing as if he were performing on stage. The imagery was absurd, but it somehow felt… right.

Arlo forced himself to breathe deeply, entering a state of cogitation to clear his mind. His ears buzzed with phantom laughter, a cacophony of joy and despair. Slowly, the intensity subsided. Arlo opened his eyes and exhaled deeply, feeling a strange new clarity settle over him.

He raised his hand and flexed his fingers, marveling at the newfound precision in his movements. It was as if he had gained complete control over every muscle in his body. A notification blinked into view on his HUD:

[Congratulations! You have Advanced to Sequence 8: Clown]

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Arlo leaned against the cubicle wall, catching his breath as his mind processed the vivid sensations that accompanied the potion's transformation. A small grin broke across his face as the notification in his HUD confirmed his advancement to Sequence 8.

"Finally," he muttered, brushing sweat off his brow.

His grin widened when another notification appeared:

[New Skill]

Paper Daggers Lv: 1/10 - A Clown becomes capable of temporarily turning sheets of paper as hard and sharp as steel, allowing them to throw them as flying daggers or use them as knives.

Bodily Control Lv: 1/10 - A clown has near complete control over their own bodily function.

[Skill Level Up!]

Enhanced Memory Leveled Up to Level 10 (MAX)

Danger Intuition Leveled Up to Level 6 - The Danger Intuition of a Clown is greatly enhanced, even granting them an unreliable short-term form of premonition.

Curious, Arlo opened his status window. The familiar screen materialized in his vision, and he eagerly scrolled through his updated stats. His eyes flicked across the screen, noting the changes: 

Status Window

Job: Sequence 8: Clown (0%)

Race: Human/Beyonder

Level: 9

EXP: 555 (5120)

HP: 145/145

MP: 210/210

[Stats]

Strength: 10 (+5)

Dexterity: 10 (+10)

Intelligence: 27

Charisma: 10 (+2)

Luck: 10

Endurance: 10 (+5)

Wisdom: 27 (+5)

Remaining Status Points: 10

The +10 Dexterity caught his eye first, then the boosts to Strength, Wisdom, and Charisma. Finally, his eyes landed on Luck. 

The additional +5 Endurance from his Seraphim bracelet stood out, further solidifying his newfound capabilities.

"Balanced, precise, and a little deadly," Arlo muttered to himself. "It's like being Spider-Man and Daredevil rolled into one."

He flexed his fingers, feeling an unprecedented level of control over his body, as if every muscle responded to his thoughts instantly.

One stat, however, drew his attention: Luck. He had allocated all his available points to it. "Call it superstition, but plot armor isn't just a trope," he mused. "If I'm going to face angels and apocalyptic events, I'm giving myself the best armor possible."

Arlo gave a final glance at the stats before closing the display. He felt ready or at least as ready as anyone could be when preparing to face a cosmic-scale threat.

He recalled the lore from Lord of the Mysteries, a reference point for his understanding of being a Beyonder. Advancing to the Clown stage meant he now possessed acrobat-level dexterity, inhuman balance, and a heightened sense of danger. Every movement felt precise, deliberate, and natural. He imagined walking a tightrope blindfolded or leaping from wall to wall in combat without breaking a sweat.

The real kicker was the Danger Intuition. Even now, he could sense faint ripples of unease in the air, like invisible strings tied to potential hazards. It was subtle, unreliable even, but still an invaluable edge.

"This," he whispered, "is going to be fun.

Still smiling, Arlo stood, his steps unnaturally quiet on the tiled floor. He exited the cubicle and paused at the sink to splash cold water on his face. The cool sensation was grounding, pulling him back into the moment. He studied his reflection in the mirror, his features seemed sharper, more defined, as if his very presence had been polished. 

He took a deep breath and pulled the Pit Viper pistol from his inventory, its weight familiar and comforting. The three slumber charms followed, their silver surfaces cool to the touch. He secured them in his coat pockets, checking the placement twice for easy access. Lastly, the low-level health potion found its place in an inner pocket 

"Perfect," he muttered. The slumber charms were secured, ready for emergencies. The potion was stowed in an inside pocket for quick access.

Satisfied with his preparations, Arlo glanced at himself in the mirror. His reflection stared back, a mix of determination and calm. 

It's not about being invincible. It's about being prepared, he thought, echoing advice from Aria that had stuck with him.

Exiting the restroom, he made his way back to his table. the people in the diner seems doing what they are supposed to do in a any normal day but It was the calm before the storm, and Arlo felt it in his bones. 

Link barked quietly when Arlo returned, wagging his tail enthusiastically. Arlo smirked and scratched behind Link's ears. 

"Miss me, buddy? Sorry, no crazy tricks just yet, but soon." Link nuzzled his hand, his tail thumping against the booth.

He adjusted his coat, feeling the weight of his preparations. The Pit Viper, the charms, the potion—they were tools, yes, but also symbols of his resolve. This isn't just about completing a quest. This is a test of everything I've learned, every choice I've made.

Link let out another quiet bark, his eyes bright with anticipation. Arlo chuckled. "Yeah, I know. You're ready for action too. But patience, Link. Timing is everything."  

He leaned back in the booth, sipping the last of his coffee as his thoughts churned. The Clown's skills, the Seer's foresight, the protagonist-like Luck, he had stacked the odds as best he could. Now, it was time to see if it was enough.

Charlie passed by his table, offering a quick smile. Arlo nodded, his mind already racing with contingencies and strategies. He knew the peace wouldn't last, but for now, he allowed himself a brief moment to enjoy it.

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Arlo sipped his coffee, the warmth soothing yet hardly distracting him from his task. Link munched happily on his breakfast. Arlo occasionally obliged, feeding him another bite. His eyes, however, scanned the diner's patrons with sharp intent. He needed to understand the players in this unfolding event.

His [Observe] flickered on, targeting the black man seated at the counter.

[Kyle Williams: LV5]  

"Figures," Arlo muttered under his breath.

It was a match for Tyrese Gibson's character in the movie Legion.

The way Kyle hunched over his plate, stabbing at his food with unnecessary force, fit the character's frustration with his lot in life. The pieces were sliding into place. 

The arrival of the old lady would mark the true start.

Bob, Jeep's father and the diner's owner, was fiddling with the old TV in the corner, giving it a few sharp slaps when the screen flickered. Arlo winced internally. Slapping technology didn't work outside sitcoms. When the emergency broadcast symbol suddenly lit up the screen, a hush fell over the diner.

"What the hell is this?" Kyle's voice cut through the silence, his face scrunching as he squinted at the screen.

Percy, the cook, leaned in from the kitchen.

"Radio's dead too," he announced, wiping his hands on a stained towel. A ripple of unease spread through the diners.

Then Kyle stood, his tall frame adding to his imposing demeanor. 

"Phones are out," he reported, his tone grim.

Here we go, Arlo thought, keeping his expression neutral. He glanced out the window and saw a car pulling into the lot. The old lady.

The vehicle stopped, and an elderly woman emerged, moving with surprising ease for someone her age. She entered the diner with a pleasant smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Arlo adjusted his posture slightly, his face calm. The Clown advancement's benefits were already kicking in. His emotions were concealed beneath a mask of nonchalance, giving him complete control over his expressions. It was a subtle but vital edge in tense situations.

The woman took a seat near the window, and Charlie approached with a practiced smile. 

"What can I get you?" she asked, her voice warm but weary.

"I'll have the steak, please" the old woman replied sweetly, her tone almost grandmotherly.

Charlie hesitated. "Uh, how do you want it cooked?"

"Rare if you would. And water, no ice" the woman answered with a smile that made the air feel colder.

Arlo's gaze lingered on her. He casually shuffled his tarot cards, allowing his hands to keep busy while he studied her every move. He noticed Link beginning to growl softly. 

"Easy, buddy," Arlo muttered, resting a hand on the Link's head.

Charlie returned with the steak and placed it in front of the old woman, who acknowledged her. 

"Thank you, dear. How far along are you?" the old woman asked suddenly.

Charlie blinked. "Just about there."

The old woman's smile widened. "Yeah, but it's gonna burn."

Charlie froze. The Andersons turned to look as well. Kyle glanced over from the counter.

"What did you just say?" Charlie asked, her voice trembling.

"Your baby," the woman said, pointing a bony finger. "I said your fucking baby's gonna burn."

Charlie flinched, her face twisting in shock and anger. "What did you just say?"

The old woman's smile grew. "I said your baby will burn. Just like the rest of you."

Charlie's hands shook as she fled to the kitchen. The diners exchanged nervous glances, but the woman didn't stop. She turned her attention to Sandra, her voice dripping with venom.

Howard shot up from his seat. "Apologize to my wife!" he roared.

Arlo stood abruptly. "Don't—" he started, but Howard ignored him, storming toward the table.

The old woman struck like a viper, her teeth sinking into Howard's neck. Blood sprayed as he collapsed, and the diner erupted into chaos.

The woman screeched, her voice echoing unnaturally. "You're all going to die!"

Arlo's mind snapped into sharp focus.

[Spirit Vision] activated, and the diner darkened in his perception as the ethereal world layered over reality.

[MP:195/210]

Instead of seeing a twisted spirit or decaying specter, the old woman's ether body blazed with pure white radiance. The brilliance was overwhelming, stabbing into his eyes with painful intensity, he immediately turn it off his [Spirit Vison]. He gritted his teeth and shielded his vision with his arm.

"What the hell..." Arlo muttered, blinking furiously. It's not a demon. This light... it's divine energy. An angel.

Percy hurled a frying pan at her, but she shrugged it off and scuttled up the wall, her movements insect-like.

Arlo's hand hovered over his tarot cards as he prepared himself.

Link barked furiously, his stance protective. This was only the beginning.

.....

Arlo rose calmly, feeling the sharpened weight of his tarot cards shift in his fingers. The Clown's Bodily Control flowed like instinct, and he flicked the first card with a precise snap of his wrist.

[Paper Dagger] — a simple skill on paper, but deadly when applied. He felt the energy coursing through his fingers as the tarot cards stiffened, their edges turning sharp as steel. With a flick of his wrist, the first card shot through the air. It sliced into the old woman's back with a sickening thud.

[MP: 185/210]

[20 Damage]

She screamed, a shrill, grating sound that resonated like nails on glass.

Without pausing, Arlo launched the second card. The sharp corner bit into her shoulder, twisting her torso grotesquely. 

[MP: 175/220]

[30 Critical Damage]

Two more cards followed—one carving into her spine, another slashing into the side of her neck. Each hit was met with a bone-jarring impact, but the unnatural creature turned, her eyes black pits of rage that fixed on Arlo. 

[MP: 155/220]

[22 Damage]

[48 Critical Damage]

"You'll die screaming," she hissed, her voice dripping malice.

"Yeah, I've heard worse," Arlo muttered, his expression a mask of indifference. He didn't flinch as she charged forward.

Bob finally snapped out of his shock, yanking his shotgun from behind the counter. 

"Back off, freak!" he shouted, pumping the gun with a click that reverberated through the diner.

The first blast exploded into the air, buckshot shredding the wooden booth where the old lady had been.

But she was too fast. The next moment, she was behind him. Her wiry, clawed hand shot out, flinging Bob across the room. His body smashed into the jukebox, sparks flying as the machine died with a discordant wail. The shotgun skidded across the floor, stopping at Jeep's feet.

"Grab it!" Arlo barked.

Jeep dove for the gun, clutching it with trembling hands. He swung it up, his finger hovering over the trigger, but fear anchored him in place. The old woman's grin stretched unnaturally wide as she crept toward him.

"Come on, kid," Arlo growled. "Pull the trigger!"

Jeep's hands shook, his knuckles white with tension. "I… I can't…"

"Typical." Arlo reached into his coat, the cool weight of the [Pit Viper] fitting perfectly into his grip. As the old lady reared back to strike, he took aim, every movement smooth and deliberate. The trigger pulled back with ease.

Bang!

[11 Damage]

The first bullet tore into her back.

Bang!

[13 Damage]

Bang!

[10 Damage]

Bang!

[16 Damage]

[EXP Gained: +100]

Three more shots followed, each punctuating the air like a drumbeat of finality. The old woman's body jerked with each hit before crumpling to the floor. Silence followed, broken only by the soft clatter of spent casings rolling across the linoleum.

Jeep stared, wide-eyed, as Arlo exhaled slowly and holstered his pistol. 

"She's not getting back up," Arlo said with calm certainty.

He glanced at Link, whose growl faded into a satisfied rumble. "Good boy."

The Link wagged his tail, stepping closer to sniff the fallen figure.

"Never hesitate," Arlo said quietly, his gaze locking with Jeep's. "Hesitation gets people killed."

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