The god of Joke

Chapter 17: The Breaking Point

The world was no longer the same.

The moment Tara pressed the mask to her face, the energy around her shifted, as if the very fabric of reality had been altered. The air crackled with raw, untamed power, and the earth itself groaned beneath the force. Her body trembled, not from fear, but from the sheer weight of the transformation that was overtaking her.

She could feel it—feel the gods pressing in from all sides, their presence suffocating, like an invisible pressure pushing down on her mind, her soul. They were trying to invade her, to claim her as they had done in the past. But this time, she was prepared.

The mask pulsed against her skin, sending waves of energy coursing through her veins, filling her with strength, with knowledge, with power. It was overwhelming, but there was something else in it—a flicker of clarity. Tara could see through the mask now, not just as a vessel for the gods' will, but as someone who understood their true nature, their weaknesses, their limitations.

The gods were not invincible. They were not eternal.

And she was not powerless.

Tara's breath steadied as the surge of power continued to flow through her. She could hear Lyra's voice, shrill and filled with rage, cutting through the air.

"You don't know what you've done, Tara!" Lyra screamed, her hands glowing with dark energy. "You've bound yourself to the gods' will! You are the gods now!"

Tara felt a surge of anger at the words, but she didn't let them consume her. She was the one in control now. Not the gods. Not Lyra. She chose her path, and she wasn't going to let anyone—especially Lyra—convince her otherwise.

"You don't get it, do you, Lyra?" Tara's voice rang out, strong and clear, despite the chaos swirling around them. "I'm not here to join them. I'm here to end this cycle. To break their hold on this world once and for all."

Lyra's eyes narrowed, her smile twisting into something darker. "You think you can stop the gods? You are nothing but a pawn, Tara. You always have been. And now, you've made your choice. There's no going back."

Tara stepped forward, feeling the mask's power surge with her movement. "You're wrong," she said, her voice steady, but filled with a fierce conviction. "I'm not a pawn. And neither is anyone else."

The ground trembled again, but this time, it wasn't just the wind or the gods' power—it was her. Tara's very presence, her will, was distorting the air, bending it to her command.

Lyra raised her hands, summoning dark energy from the depths of the earth. The shadows around them thickened, swirling into sharp tendrils that reached for Tara, seeking to bind her, to break her down. But Tara wasn't afraid. With a snap of her fingers, she sent a wave of energy crashing through the air, unraveling the darkness that Lyra had summoned.

Lyra's eyes widened in disbelief. "What... what have you become?"

Tara's expression was cold, her focus unshakable. "I am more than what you think. I'm the one who will undo this. Not you."

The sky above them darkened further, and the storm clouds twisted, like the gods themselves were watching from beyond. Tara could feel their presence more strongly now, their hunger, their need to control her, to claim her as one of their own. But she resisted. She could feel the mask pushing at the edges of her consciousness, urging her to submit to their power. But Tara was no longer afraid. She had seen what the gods truly were—empty, self-serving beings who fed on the chaos they created. They were not the ultimate force of the universe. They were flawed.

"You don't control me," Tara said, her voice like steel. "I control myself."

With a wave of her hand, she unleashed a burst of energy so powerful that the ground beneath her cracked and the air hummed with its force. Lyra staggered back, barely managing to maintain her footing as the blast surged toward her. The energy collided with the dark magic Lyra had summoned, sending it spiraling out of control.

"You cannot fight destiny, Tara," Lyra spat, her voice full of venom. "You cannot fight the gods."

Tara's eyes glowed with a fierce light, the mask's power merging with her own. She could feel it now, the full weight of the gods' presence pressing in, but she refused to buckle. Her hands glowed with energy as she raised them, her will shaping the air around them, pushing against the dark storm Lyra had created.

"I will fight," Tara said, her voice fierce. "And I will win."

With a snap of her fingers, the sky cracked open, the swirling storm of darkness dissipating in an instant. The gods' presence faltered, as if they, too, were shocked by her defiance. Tara's mind was clear now, the mask no longer a burden but a tool, a means of harnessing her true strength.

Lyra staggered back, her face twisted in disbelief and fury. "No! This isn't possible! You can't—"

But Tara didn't give her a chance to finish. With a single thought, she sent a blast of pure energy toward Lyra, knocking her off her feet and sending her crashing into the remnants of the tower. The force of the blast was enough to shake the earth itself, and the air seemed to hold its breath for a moment before everything settled into an eerie silence.

Tara stood at the center of the village, the remnants of the battle surrounding her. The gods had been pushed back—for now. The storm had cleared, and the oppressive weight that had hung over the world seemed to lift, if only for a brief moment.

But it was far from over.

She could feel the gods, still lingering at the edge of her consciousness, their whispers growing louder again. They would return, and when they did, they would be even more dangerous.

Tara turned away from the wreckage of the tower, her gaze searching for any sign of the villagers. She could see Emrick in the distance, leading them toward safety, but there was something else in the air. Something deeper. A sense that the battle they had just fought was only a prelude to something much greater, something that would demand more than just strength and will.

The world was changing, and Tara knew that no matter how powerful the mask made her, she couldn't face this alone.

With the gods still looming in the distance, Tara clenched her fists, her resolve hardening. She had won this round—but the real war was only just beginning.

And she would not rest until it was over.