Eventually, Amon followed the wizard.
It wasn't just because he liked adventures. No, this decision was rooted in something deeper... suspicion. If his hunch was correct, then this eccentric old man might be the key to ending the Nightmare. After all, something about this it felt wrong. It was too calm. Too… quiet. Amon had expected chaos, horror, maybe a monster or two. But what met him was meat, sunshine, and cozy beds. perhaps... that horryfing part simply hadn't arrived yet.
Still, that was a concern for future Amon. For now, he chose to enjoy the gentle breeze and the oddly comforting presence of his drunk, possibly senile, wizard companion.
The man's name was Bernak. A strange name, sure, but Amon had a rule: never judge people by their names, only by their appearances, like any proper gentleman should.
They crossed peaceful green valleys, streams winding lazily through the land like silver ribbons. But eventually, their path led them into something far less welcoming.
A forest was oppressive and still. The trees were towering, stretching toward the sky like monoliths. Their bark was pitch black, gleaming like obsidian. Shadows hung heavy between them, and the air grew cold and thick with silence.
Luckily, they weren't entirely helpless. Elder Bernak tapped his staff once, and it began to glow with a soft, silver light. It cast strange shadows but it also illuminated a narrow path through the trees, twisting and winding like a serpent.
Thanks to Bernak's light and guidance, they began to push through the dark.
Amon was oddly cheerful about all this.
He didn't know why, he should have been nervous. An oppressive forest, a strange wizard, an ominous trial… It was the perfect recipe for panic. And yet, not a single thread of fear tugged at his heart.
That was… suspicious.
He glanced at Bernak, then narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Honourable elder," he began, his voice casual, "don't you think someone might be trying to control our minds?"
Bernak gave him a long look, one of surprise, fleeting and subtle. It passed quickly, replaced by an amused, reassuring smile.
"Don't worry about it, my boy," he said gently. "As long as I'm here, I'll protect you."
Oddly enough, that comforted Amon.
And that... that was the most suspicious thing of all.
He wasn't sure why, but he believed the old man. Truly believed him. His usual paranoia, sharp and twitchy as a startled cat, was nowhere to be found.
Something's off…
Normally, he would've been dissecting every word the elder spoke, watching for tells, questioning motives. But now? He just felt warm, safe and relaxed.
Too relaxed...
But what could he do? The senile old... respectable wizard looked far stronger than him. There was no way Amon could defeat him, let alone find a clever way to escape.
He sighed inwardly. He shouldn't have accepted the proposal if he didn't have the guts to follow through. That was on him.
So, Amon decided to play along for now... Not like his weak-ass self could do anything else. Tragic...
"Elder Bernak," he began with a sweet smile, "since you're giving me a quest, shouldn't you provide a bit more information? Or, you know... legendary equipment? I've never seen an NPC this stingy before."
Bernak stopped mid-step. His unreadable expression cracked for just a moment as he turned and coughed into his fist, visibly embarrassed.
"I only have my... staff." he said awkwardly. "And… what's an NPC?"
Amon blinked rapidly. A smile spread across his lips, pleasant at first, then more and more forced, as the truth sank in.
Ah, he thought bitterly. So we're both broke.
"Forget it…" he sighed.
In four days, they had crossed the dark forest and arrived at yet another unsettling place. This time, it was all jagged cliffs and a narrow, treacherous road winding along their edges.
"W-when... hah... when will we reach our destination...?" Amon gasped, dragging his feet behind the ever-energetic wizard.
What do you mean, adventure? Just this one trip had made him walk more than he ever had in his entire life. What kind of nightmare was this, really? People might think it's all fun and games but no, it wasn't!
"Don't worry, we'll reach it soon."
Bernak laughed heartily as he led the way, unfazed by the punishing terrain.
Uh-huh. "Soon," huh? That's what you said two days ago.
Life had become hard. He was sleeping on the cold, uneven ground now. No soft bed. No warm meals. Just rocks, sore feet, and despair. He already missed his cozy, small house.
Well… at least he had the foresight to bring a blanket and a pillow. If not, he probably would've frozen to death by now.
But that wasn't all.
There were too many insects. Crawling, buzzing, biting. They were everywhere. Even the polluted outskirts weren't this uncomfortable. Then again, no sane insect could survive out there. Maybe a few suicidal ones.
Worse yet, the deeper they ventured into the forest, the more dangerous it became. Everything wanted to kill you: fruits, flowers, even vines. If it weren't for Bernak, Amon would've already died at least three different deaths: poisoned, strangled, or digested.
At one point, Bernak shot him a warm, reassuring smile.
Amon did not trust that smile.
Then, without warning, the old man grabbed him by the waist.
"Wha-ahh!"
Part of the road ahead had collapsed, revealing a massive chasm yawning beneath them. There was no ground. Just a long, dark, terrifying hole into nowhere.
Amon blinked as he was hoisted up and slung over Bernak's shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
So this is it. The old man was finally showing his true colors.
Life was good while it lasted, Amon thought, dramatically. Sure, I was starving in the outskirts, malnourished, hiding from gangs… but at least no one ran experiments on me.
Right now? He had the distinct feeling that he was about to be violated.
Isn't this pedophilism? I'm a kid. He's a wrinkled sorcerer with questionable morals. Eh, There goes my innocence.
But, as always, reality slapped his imagination in the face.
Bernak simply jumped over the hole with the ease of someone stepping over a puddle, then gently set Amon down on the other side… and kept walking, whistling like nothing happened.
Amon stood there for a second, processing everything.
Well… that was unexpected but not entirely unwelcome.
Just what rank was Bernak anyway? Awakened? Ascended? He had no idea. But Amon was pretty sure no random elderly man could casually leap across a chasm with a kid on his shoulder like it was a light jog.
Eventually, a faint light shimmered on the horizon.
Amon opened his mouth to ask if that was their destination but stopped himself. Instead, he straightened his back and composed his face into a cold, emotionless mask. If he was about to meet new companions, he'd do it like a mysterious, badass way. First impressions mattered.
They approached the glow, just a modest campfire burning in the clearing. Five figures sat around it, shadows flickering across their faces.
Bernak raised his hands in greeting, his expression soft and welcoming.
"It has been a long time, my friends," he said warmly. "Allow me to introduce my partner. His name is Amon and he's a clever boy. I'm sure you'll all like him."
Amon smiled mysteriously as he stepped forward, his posture straight, expression calm, aura unreadable.
I won't let anyone ruin this moment. Today, I become the mysterious, edgy legend. A shadow among men.
Look at me, mongrels! I am the storm that is approaching~
But alas, Lady Luck had clearly decided to ghost him.
Perhaps his recent luck had been drained entirely just surviving those cursed, poisonous fruits. Maybe the universe had finally decided he was due for a proper humbling. Either way, his boot caught on a stick. An innocent, crooked twig lying in ambush.
He tilted forward.
His arms flailed but only slightly. He was still trying to maintain composure. Even as he descended toward the dirt like a tragic meteorite, his gaze remained piercing, his face unreadably stoic.
I'm a failure, he thought, eyes locked on the horizon. After all those long nights practicing in the mirror. After I perfected the sacred art of the emotionless face... I'm sorry, Fang Yuan. I'm sorry, Bernak. I'm sorry, Bed. I'll never see you again.
Gods... I've been falling for a long time.
He hit the ground with a dull thud.
The five men around the campfire stared, mouths slightly open, blinking in collective confusion. Bernak turned away slightly, rubbing his forehead as if disowning the scene.
Amon lay there for a moment, still as a stone, eyes trained on the distant horizon, filled with shame, bitterness, and the crushing weight of dreams deferred.
"...He's clever," Bernak muttered under his breath, voice dry. "Just... very unique."
After a few long, torturous minutes, Amon finally worked up the courage to sit by the campfire. He didn't say a word. Not even a snarky comment. That's how embarrassed he was. His pride lay somewhere back near that treacherous twig.
The silence grew thick, almost suffocating until one of the men finally stood. Like a hero descending from the heavens, he broke the awkward tension with calm confidence. His presence alone radiated authority and quiet strength.
Amon looked up at him. The man hadn't even spoken yet, and Amon could already tell that this guy was important. Of course, next to a no-name bum like him, everyone looked like a protagonist.
"I am Kaisarius," the man said, voice deep and composed. "These are my people: Gray, Nika, Arias, and Liparik. It's a pleasure to meet you, new friend."
Amon gave a polite nod, doing his best to hold his expression steady. His dramatic fall still echoed in his mind like a haunting memory.
Kaisarius was tall and broad-shouldered, a warrior built like a statue from some ancient temple. A sword rested on his back, its hilt worn but well-kept. His black hair flowed freely behind him, framing a sharp, bearded face. And his eyes were feep, dark, yet strangely gentle, watching Amon with calm curiosity.
Amon cleared his throat and sat a little straighter, trying not to look like a smudged NPC next to a main character.
"…Amon," he said finally. "Just Amon."
He decided not to add 'professional tripper of twigs' to the introduction.
Than his eyes subtly scanned the rest of the group, soaking in every detail.
Gray and Nika were twins, no doubt about it. Same dirty blonde hair, same piercing blue eyes. If it weren't for the thin scar that ran diagonally across Nika's cheek, Amon would've been hopelessly confused. Thankfully, fate had blessed him with a convenient identifier.
Nika carried two short swords with an easy confidence, the kind that said he knew how to use them and wasn't afraid to. Gray, on the other hand, rested a long spear across his lap, fingers idly drumming on its shaft with bored precision. Both of them had that sharp, restless air of people used to action.
Then there was Arias.
Older than the others, with white streaks running through his otherwise black hair. His brown eyes were warm, even fatherly, though his beard… well, it had clearly declared independence from his face and was in open rebellion. Tied awkwardly in a half-hearted braid, it looked like a failed craft project, but the massive hammer resting beside him suggested that teasing him about it would be hazardous to one's bones.
And finally, Liparik.
Lean and tall, with the air of someone who never made a sound unless it was on purpose. He wasn't bulky like the rest, but his frame was pure coiled agility. Amon noted the bow and quiver slung across his back, the twitch of fingers always half-ready to draw. His ears perked subtly at the smallest of sounds. A tracker or scout, maybe. Definitely a pain to sneak up on.
Amon glanced down at himself.
And then it hit him.
Pizdets!
What the hell was he supposed to be?! They all looked like characters from an epic saga, and he… he looked like someone who got isekai'd into the wrong genre.
Where was his mysterious scar? His grim backstory? His abs?
"This is humiliating," he muttered under his breath, sinking just a little lower beside the fire.
He suddenly missed his glorious outskirts. At least there, no one expected him to be impressive.
Everyone greeted him warmly...
Amon had been bracing himself for mockery or cold shoulders, but to his surprise, they were nothing like that. They were loud, casual, and weirdly welcoming.
Chill guys, huh? I like it.
Before long, the group was joking around while preparing food over the campfire.
Amon offered to help, trying to be polite, but they just turned and stared at him blankly.
Then someone brought up his heroic fall again.
Yeah. That.
Blunt bastards.
He clenched his spoon just a little tighter. Why? Why would they remind him of that?! That was supposed to be forgotten. Buried in shame. Yet here it was, resurrected for the sake of banter.
Still, he couldn't help but smile. It wasn't mean-spirited. Just jokes. Teasing, yeah but the kind that made you feel like part of group. For once, Amon wasn't being laughed at, he was just… included.
He hummed happily as he ate his soup, swinging his legs slightly like a kid. Life wasn't bad. Warm fire. Real food. A group of competent murderers... ahem, adventurers who didn't treat him like trash.
Though, he would appreciate it if they closed their mouths while eating. He tried not to judge, but slurping and open-mouthed chewing? Not pleasant sound...
"Gentlemen," he muttered under his breath, "do you eat or conduct wind symphonies?"
Nika grunted through a mouthful of soup. "What was that, kid?"
"Nothing, sir. Please, continue serenading us with your digestive orchestra. I'm sure the wildlife is deeply moved."