Fuck…
Amon ducked as the Stone Saint's massive sword cleaved through the wall, shattering it into rubble. He sprinted with grim determination, stone raining down behind him.
Before he could break away, Sunny hurled the Prowling Thorn. Amon dropped low, then caught the Saint's crashing strike on the midnight shard, sparks flaring where steel and stone met.
This was the new variable he had created. In the original timeline, the Saint would not have been fighting at this point, she should have been evolving. But because Amon had stolen the gem that triggered that evolution, the graceful shadow was forced onto the battlefield early. Sunny had gained a decisive advantage over Harus and Amon… yet was that enough to defeat the murderous hunchback and the trickster whose past had long ago become history?
Gritting his teeth, Amon leapt back and slashed upward. The blade carved shallowly, scattering ruby dust from the Saint's stone-like body. The Midnight Shard pierced her dark armor, only to become trapped between its plates.
Amon wrenched at the weapon, but before he could free it, Harus was there. The hunchback's fist smashed forward. Amon raised his arms to block, releasing the tachi at the last instant. Even so, the blow launched him backward, bones screaming from the impact.
But Amon was a dormant demon, while Harus was merely a beast. Class mattered. Even with his monstrous physique and the unnatural strength his attributes granted, Harus's power was not enough to break Amon. The impact hurt, but it didn't end him.
Before Harus could pursue, the Stone Saint turned her wrath on him. Her blade came down in a furious arc, forcing him to raise his chained gauntlet in defense. The clash rang like thunder, driving him back a step. Snarling, he retaliated with a brutal strike to her helm, stone cracked. The aloof shadow staggered against the wall, only to be seized by the butcher's savage hand.
Harus gripped her head in both hands and slammed her through the wall, masonry erupting around them. A brutal kick followed, hurling her body deeper into the ruin.
Bloody hell… Amon thought as he caught Sunny's attack on the midnight shard, then ducked low to avoid the follow-up slash. His foot snapped out, kicking Sunny's leg. The child of shadows stumbled, only for a heartbeat, but it was enough. Amon crashed into him, sending the Treacherous Shadow sprawling and knocking the odachi from his grasp.
Both of them crashed to the floor. Turning the tachi downward, Amon thrust the blade toward Sunny's skull but the boy kicked his arm, and the weapon slipped from Amon's grasp. At this range, with both of their weapons out of reach and no time to summon daggers, the only option left was hand-to-hand combat.
Skill favored Sunny, but Amon was nothing if not tricky. Before Sunny could shove him off, Amon drove his forehead into his opponent's skull. Both men groaned at the sickening crack, clutching their heads in shared pain.
Sunny crawled toward the fallen odachi to regain the advantage, but Amon seized his leg and dragged him back before he could reach it. Sunny's fingers curled into fists; white sparks flickered around his hand, and a black kunai shimmered into existence.
Clenching his teeth, Sunny let the kunai fall, only to catch it with his other hand and thrust it upward toward Amon's eye.
Amon's expression grew neutral, his pupils dilating for a heartbeat, wide and unblinking as he raised his hand into the weapon's path. The kunai punched through flesh with a wet sound. His fingers clenched tight around the hilt, locking it in place as blood dripped down onto Sunny's face. Sunny tried to wrench the kunai free, but Amon's grip held firm. With his other hand, Amon seized Sunny's armor and then:
Click!
A sharp snap echoed as something clicked loose in Amon's wrist. A hidden blade shot out and plunged into Sunny's chest. The young man screamed, but no blood followed. Sunny possessed [Blood Weave], which meant making a cheap copy of the Weaver die from bleeding was impossible.
Instead, Sunny's lips stretched into a twisted grin, bloodied teeth bared in manic laughter. His boot crashed into Amon's chest, hurling him back.
Amon rolled with the momentum, hit the floor, and came up running. His boots pounded against the stone steps as he sprinted toward the upper levels of the Bright Castle.
Amon was desperate. He was fighting sleepers whose skills and power dwarfed his own, but that didn't discourage him. His main weapons were trickery and deceit; brute strength was pathetic in comparison. What did it matter if his enemy could tear him apart in a single bite, if Amon could simply lure an equally powerful creature toward it and let them tear each other apart? Wit was always mightier than the sword. That was how the Weaver managed to kill all gods and daemons, not because he was vastly more powerful than them. In fact, he was inferior in terms of combat ability, yet he still killed them. The Weaver killed them all with his cunning.
Amon's path was always complex. If a road didn't exist, he would make one. That's how he had survived until now. "Think outside the box," they say? No, throw the damned box into the flames altogether and walk away.
He killed thousands in his first nightmare purely through cunning, destroying a dam and drowning an entire army. He bested the Pale Scavenger by using the environment and swindling it, not only stealing everything from it, but also exploiting the concept of nothingness that engulfed the hollow mountains, practically erasing its existence.
He had outwitted the Mind Tree, an existence no sleeper had managed to defeat, using himself as bait while giving Medici the opportunity to burn its heart. He defeated the damned specter of the Slayer as well. Was it because of overwhelming might? No... Amon was pathetic in comparison in terms of physical strength, but he used the environment, storms, deceit, and physics to impale the vile beast and destroy it. The same happened with the Leviathan: he stole the Kraken's kill by dealing the final blow, snatching the reward from the ancient monstrosity.
A lord of the dead had fallen the same way, buried beneath thousands of tons of rubble. Amon wasn't just a harmless trickster; the consequences of his tricks were disastrous and terrifying.
And this time… his enemies would share the same fate as all the vile bastards who had fallen before him.
Still… I'm scared, he thought, biting his lower lip as he reached the top of the stairs. He slid down as a chain screamed past, missing him by an inch and smashing into the statue behind him. No, I can't hesitate. That would make the situation ten times more dangerous. I need to be slipperier, more adaptable. It's fine, I have everything under control. What I need is madness. I need it the most. Not like those pathetic mongrels chasing me, breaking under despair. I am from the past, and I am the child of war.
They say Amon's era was inferior, filled with warmongers and destroyers who nuked the earth?
Well, he would show them the insanity that created the nuclear bomb. The insanity that gave birth to all kinds of diabolical weapons, bringing disasters and calamities. All the great minds were insane. No sane person could create such vile things, none but one whose mind brims with madness.
Now the question was: would that same madness make Amon like the rest of Forgotten Shore? Or...
Would it give birth to dancing stars?
I'll dodge responsibility and chase the fun. I'll avoid the consequences and laugh until the end. I may be a hypocrite, a coward, a fraud, a thief, shameless and thrill-seeking but so what? Why should I care? These people are from a fucking novel. They might not even exist. This might be a dream, a fucking simulation, or a twisted experiment. Who knows, really? Nothing is certain. But what I do know is that I am more real than any of them could ever be. I am original, while they are cheap imitations of me.
"In the sliver of a single breath where hesitation dies… therein lies the way."
He whispered it to himself. The worry eased, his face settling into a calm, neutral mask as his body relaxed.
Memories: [Chameleon's Cloak], [Jar of a Hundred Poisons], [Hidden Blades], [Hawk's Eye], [Hearth], [Fraud's Bag], [Midnight Shard], [Moonlight Shard], [Spectral Mirror], [Horizon's Edge], [Endless Spring], [Little Helper], [Campfire]…
Amon's smile sharpened when his eyes landed on the [Spectral Mirror] and [Little Helper]. Yeah, this might just work. Whether I die or not depends on this gamble. They don't have any information about my memories, which means I hold the advantage. All I need is to prepare until they reach me and then they'll fall straight into my trap. Whoever doesn't fall? Doesn't matter. I'll get rid of one, and then the other.
Behind him, Harus shattered the Stone Saint's armor, his kick sending the taciturn shadow tumbling to the lower floor. Sunny retaliated, driving his odachi deep into Harus's shoulder, only for the giant to grunt, narrow his eyes, and seize Sunny's arm.
The boy's face twisted in disbelief as Harus hurled him like a ragdoll. Sunny's body crashed against a broken statue, the impact knocking the air out of him. Blood sprayed from his lips as he rolled among the debris, coughing.
Sunny staggered upright, gasping, eyes darting wildly between his enemies. Harus's heavy steps echoed as he advanced down the stairs, looming like a beast. But before Sunny could focus on Amon… or deal with Harus… he heard it.
The voice that had tortured him for months, insulting him, driving him mad, and pushing him to the brink of despair. Sunny had even considered committing suicide at one point because of the madness and sleepless nights.
His eyes went wide, filled with unfathomable terror as he heard the ghastly voice once again. A cold grip of dread seized his heart, every instinct screaming in alarm.
"Lost from…"
Sunny's head snapped around, eyes wild and murderous, his odachi raised to strike. But when he looked back… all he saw was his own reflection in a silver mirror.
A pale young man with messy black hair and onyx eyes stared back at him. Sunny froze and then his reflection grew twisted and monstrous, its flesh peeling away and writhing as an arm reached out from the mirror, as if the surface were nothing but liquid, and grabbed his arm.
Sunny's scream tore through the Bright Castle, ragged, feral, and filled with dread. His reflection tilted its head and grinned, its teeth now monstrous fangs, as it yanked Sunny toward him and dragged him into the liquid surface of the mirror.
"Haha… Hahahaha…" A tired yet vicious laughter echoed from behind the debris. Amon grabbed his face, his eyes glinting with a hint of madness. Now… he needed to kill Harus and then finish Sunny off, if he could even defeat his reflection. The Spectral Mirror had only one enhancement: whoever looked into it would be dragged inside. The only way to escape was to kill your reflection. It was similar to Mordret's ability, but weaker in potency and easier to counter.
Whether Sunny lived or died inside that cursed glass didn't matter to Amon. He was done. Done with this place, done with these so-called fucking protagonists, done with this rotten Forgotten Shore.
He was sick of this world.
And gods, he missed home.
He missed Lazare. His awkward little brother who always followed him, no matter where he went. He missed his mother, even with her endless criticism and scolding.
He missed his father, the man who would always call him a failure, trash, a dickhead, or some shit like that yet who always worked, even when he couldn't, his body screaming in pain after all these years of hardships for his and his brother's future. Damn it... he had never appreciated his father. Maybe it was because of his attitude, but his father's love had always been like that… never spoken, but shown through actions.
He missed his grandmother, who shielded him, slipped him money, and patched over his countless messes. His grandfather, who taught him almost everything worth knowing, who told him to live without regrets.
He missed them all, cherishing every memory. Be it good, bad or painful. And now… he had lost them.
He hadn't wanted to live with regrets or face the consequences of his actions, always avoiding responsibility. Yes, that had been his wish, but… he still had regrets. He regretted ruining things with Luna, and more importantly… he regretted never valuing what he had.
Admitting it was painful but...
"You never truly value what you have until it's gone..."