The next day... wait, was it even day? Hard to tell. They had only slept six hours, and the sky was still dark as ever. But whatever the time, they all got up like they hadn't just woken every living thing in the region with their slurping symphony the night before.
Not that Amon judged. He was an angel. A wingless, soup-loving angel.
And anyway, food came first, again. They ate in near silence, save for the occasional mutter or burp, building their strength for the road ahead...?
Once the bowls were clean and the flames burned low, they sat around the campfire. That's when Kaisarius turned toward Amon with a look that made him straighten slightly. The man's gaze was sharp, dissecting him without a word, his expression unreadable.
Then, slowly, Kaisarius turned to Bernak.
"So, who is he really, sorcerer?" he asked, his voice low but firm. "Don't tell me you dragged some random boy into this. Khar is a land of pacifists, people who won't even squash a fly. And you're telling me you found someone there, in Khar, and brought him here?"
Amon kept his expression composed, a serene little smile on his lips, though inside?
Random. That word stabbed deep. Like an arrow right in his tiny, already-wounded ego. And it twisted.
Wasn't he supposed to be special? At least a bit?
But Bernak only laughed heartily and gave Amon a theatrical wink. Then he stood, patting his lap like an old man... Well, he was old man but... Anyway, rising from a comfortable chair, and gestured grandly at Amon like he was revealing the hero of a prophecy.
"This young man, my friends… is none other than the Son of Khazven! The legendary warrior of Khar!"
Amon blinked at Bernak, a pleasant smile stretched across his face.
That smile began to twitch.
Then it stiffened.
Then it died entirely, replaced by an open mouth and eyes so wide they could catch flies.
"…Pardon?"
Bernak let out a hearty laugh, patting Amon's shoulder like a proud master showing off his gifted student.
"Come now, don't be shy! Go on, reveal your true identity!"
Amon looked at him, then at the others. He opened his mouth… closed it… opened it again. Nothing came out. Then, finally, like a confused chicken pecking at a riddle:
"…Who am I again?"
Bernak's cheerful expression faltered.
He glanced at the group.
Then back at Amon.
"…Wait. You really don't remember?"
Amon sighed, defeated, shoulders slumping like someone who'd just realized the con he was in had layers he wasn't ready for.
"I told you," he muttered. "I lost my memories…"
Bernak went completely still.
Then, very slowly, he raised his wineskin and took a long, sorrowful gulp.
"I thought you were joking," he muttered.
"I clearly wasn't."
A silence followed. The kind that gets heavier with every passing second.
"…Well," Bernak said at last, "this is awkward."
Kaisarius and his people stared at the two of them in silence. The fire cracked between them, casting shadows across their faces.
Then, with a sigh, Kaisarius stood. His gaze was cold, but not cruel. It was just firm. Like a man who had seen too many pointless deaths.
"Go back, boy. This journey isn't for someone like you. I'll tell you what happens… you'll die. As simple as that. So do yourself a favor and return... That's the least amount of compassion you can show yourself."
Amon looked down.
He didn't know why those words stung so much… but they did.
Just hours ago, they had laughed, joked, shared a fire. And now...
He felt like he'd been discarded.
Bernak gently ruffled his hair with a reassuring smile, his voice warm, like the last ember of a dying fire.
"Don't worry, my boy. He didn't mean it that way. He just doesn't want to see the innocent die."
But Liparik remained quiet, his sharp eyes on Amon and than spoke. His voice was calm, steady. But the shadows clinging to his face made his expression unreadable and cold.
"So…" he said, fixing Bernak with a penetrating look. "What can he actually do?"
Silence.
All eyes turned to Amon.
Even Bernak looked at him.
Amon opened his mouth to speak, ready to defend himself, to explain but stopped.
Wait. What could he do? He… didn't know.
His mouth stayed open. No words came. His thoughts raced, spinning like a wheel stuck in mud.
Because for the first time… he realized:
He had no idea what he was capable of.
I'm a disappointment to my ancestors... How did I forget to check my runes!? It's that damned bed's fault... Wait, no! Im sorry, my dear lady.
He took a deep breath, concentrating and thinking about his status. Indeed, as soon as he focused, shimmering runes appeared in the air in front of him. Once again, although he did not know this ancient alphabet, the meaning behind it was somehow clear.
Name: Amon.
True Name: —
Rank: Aspirant.
Soul Core: Dormant.
Memories: —
Echoes: —
Attributes: [Uniqueness of Error], [Liar], [Superior Observation], [Marauder].
Aspect: [Charlatan].
Aspect Description: [Charlatan is someone who fakes it until they make it.]
Amon stared at his runes, dumbfounded. But he quickly composed himself. What should he say? He wanted to explore his aspect, but right now, he needed to answer. Their piercing gazes weren't making it any easier.
"I'm... a thief."
He told the truth… Sure, he could've lied, but would that really be the best approach to the situation? If he was discovered later, their trust would vanish and he might die for it, killed by the very people he traveled with. So, he chose honesty. They seemed like the kind of people who appreciated that.
Now, they weren't just staring at him blankly. There was a hint of confusion in their eyes.
Silence stretched awkwardly until Nika burst into laughter.
"T-Thief? Hahaha. That's funny. Well, don't worry about Kaisarius. You're one of us now. That means you watch our backs, and we watch yours."
Bernak gave him a reassuring smile as well, and Amon sighed in relief.
After the group encouraged him with pats that nearly broke his bones and booming laughter, Amon decided to check his runes once again. Due to the earlier crisis, he hadn't been able to get a good look at them nor had he studied the Attributes properly.
While not as important as one's Aspect, Attributes were often the deciding factor between life and death. They represented natural traits and affinities, sometimes even granting passive abilities or effects.
[Uniqueness of Error]-Attribute Description: "You were born naturally with a Uniqueness, which is equivalent to a Uniqueness coming to life and imbuing its very nature into you."
[Liar]-Attribute Description: "Possessing a charm that makes you easier to approach, trust, and believe. You have excellent speaking skills and a natural talent for persuasion."
[Superior Observation]-Attribute Description: "This intuition is so sharp that you can sense if something valuable is nearby. You're able to notice subtle clues and faint traces. Reading facial expressions and minute movements to gauge someone's mental state."
[Marauder]-Attribute Description: "Marauders are hard to distinguish from ordinary thieves or bandits. Perhaps their methods are more refined, but their goal is not mere survival or pleasure. For them, stealing is a calling, a passion."
So these were his natural traits... He was a fraud. Well, That was tragic.
Apparently, he was a wannabe Beyonder from the Marauder pathway. Thankfully, he wasn't completely screwed, at least he didn't inherit Amon's version of it.
Still... the Error pathway? From Lord of the Mysteries?
How the hell was that even possible?
The realization made his stomach twist with unease, anxiety crept in like a cold breeze.
But just as quickly, that dread melted under the warmth of a smug, self-satisfied smile.
I'm going to give this world PTSD, heh... Hmm...
But Amon quickly shook his head.
No, how could he do such a vile thing?
There was no way he would do that. He was a harmless man, after all.
Though none of that mattered now.
Because Amon lacked a lot of things, one of them being information.
He glanced at Bernak and sighed, a wry smile curling up on his lips.
"I have questions..."
Bernak frowned, while Liparik raised an eyebrow and gave him a small nod.
"Sure. What is it?"
Bernak's eyes widened.
"Wait, Liparik-"
"So, what's our group called? What are we trying to accomplish? How exactly are we going to do it? Do we have enemies? Competitors?" Amon leaned forward, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion.
"I mean, you guys delightfully hinted that I might die, so I assume someone's out there trying to kill us."
He took a breath and continued without pause.
"What kind of quest is this, anyway? Who are you all really? What rank are you? Where are you from?"
Liparik blinked, stunned, and glanced at the others.
Meanwhile, Bernak just sighed and patted Amon's shoulder.
"One at a time, my little friend."
A few hours later...
Amon had learned a lot of things. One of them being the name of the group.
Funnily enough, it was Kaisarius's Company... Not exactly original, but meh. It is what it is.
Apparently, Kaisarius was the heir to a throne, and his company was working to rally banners and gather as many supporters as possible to build an army strong enough to defeat the usurpers.
If Bernak had told him the truth, then Amon's role in this would be extremely important.
As it turned out, Bernak wasn't just a sorcerer, he was also a seer. He claimed to have seen hints in the stars, whatever that meant, that he would find a great helper in Khar. And that helper... was Amon.
Amon now more or less knew what kind of helper he was meant to be after staring at his runes long enough.
Oh? And they were also being hunted by the Usurper's hounds, as Liparik explained... Yeah, this was a strange nightmare. It felt more like the second nightmare's setting.
But Amon was worried about something else entirely.
What would his friends do if he spent too much time here? It was early March. Sure, he still had almost ten months to end the Nightmare. But what if he couldn't? What if they were transported into the Dream Realm without him?
Forget the Dream Realm, could they even survive the trial?
He took a deep breath.
They would be fine. Medici could fight, he had great instincts. And Luna… if he remembered correctly, she was brilliant in biology and survival.
Then he froze, lips twitching as he barely held back a grimace.
So I'm the only one who's a real bum, huh?
Eh… that's also tragic.
Sighing, Amon glanced at Arias.
Maybe the elderly man's advice could reassure him... Of course, if the honourable elder wasn't senile.
"Sir Arias, can I ask you a question?"
Arias's beard twitched as he smiled, gesturing for Amon to sit closer.
"What is it, my boy?"
Amon hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the dark, yawning chasm, then asked:
"Why are we staying here? If we're being hunted, wouldn't it be better to run?"
Arias nodded, taking a sip from his wineskin.
"Yes, it would be. But there are two problems. First, this area is being scouted by the Usurper's hounds. And second... soon, this chasm will be filled with water. We're waiting for the rain. Once it pours, the chasm will flood and we've got boats hidden in the cave. After that, our speed will be much greater than it ever was."
Amon nodded slowly, the explanation sinking in.
That made sense. So Kaisarius wasn't just a competent murder... Adventurer. Adventurer....But also a capable leader, huh?
"So that's how it is. That's actually reassuring, but-"
BOOOOM!
Amon recoiled at the vile sound, covering his ears as panic surged through him.
What the hell was that?! Were they found out?! And seriously, couldn't they have picked a more pleasant instrument to announce their arrival!?
Instinctively, he glanced at Bernak… then at Kaisarius, who met his eyes with a smile.
Somehow, that smile was a little too calm. A little too confident.
"Grab the boats, boys... We run."
"Pardon?"
Amon's bewildered question was completely ignored.
Before he knew it, his new companions were hoisting two massive boats and sprinting down the jagged cliffside trails like madmen.
Treacherous, uneven roads carved into rock and these lunatics were carrying boats like it was some morning jog!