Die…
The thought burned in Harus's mind as his fist slammed into the Messenger's stomach. Then his chains unfurled, coiling around his arms and turning into gauntlets. He followed with another savage blow that made the creature screech in agony.
A sinister grin spread across his face as he watched the blind beast thrash. Grabbing its leg, Harus yanked himself higher into the air, twisted mid-spin, and drove his fist into its skull with a satisfying crack.
Harus loved fighting. As disturbing as it was, he found a perverse thrill in killing his enemies. There was nothing more intoxicating than watching a powerful foe, so certain of its strength, crumble into despair.
That was why he hadn't refused Amon's outrageous order. Who would be insane enough to pick a fight with a Spire Messenger in midair?
Luckily for Amon, Harus was exactly that kind of madman.
His grin widened. The chains slid down his arms, wrapping only around his fists before lashing out again. They shot forward, clamped around the Messenger's throat, and tightened with a violent pull.
Now… let's change direction, he thought, pulling the chains to his right. The blind bird screeched as Harus swung it toward another Messenger locked in battle with Kai.
The second Messenger noticed him, but before it could strike back, its sight vanished. In the next instant, it was slammed by its own kin.
Harus's ability was horrifying, almost impossible to counter. That was why, in the chaos that followed, the beak of one beast drove straight through the skull of the other. Both of them falling toward the earth and shattering upon impact, their twisted forms destroyed and every bone crushed.
Before Harus could share their fate, a pitch-black raven with four eyes swooped in and caught him in its talons. Harus grinned, wrapping the chains around his leg and forcing the raven to release him. With one chain still coiled around his arm, the raven flapped its wings, darting toward the last remaining Messenger, locked in battle with Kai.
Harus yanked his body forward and delivered a brutal kick to the creature's face, just as Kai drove his weapon through its eye. Before the Messenger could retaliate, the raven's beak tore into its neck, ripping out its throat until its head fell from its body, plummeting from the heavens like the rest of them.
At the same time, Raven split his status as a devil, summoning three illusory clones. Each possessed a single core, making them Awakened Beasts. If he created too many, it would have been useless, the Messenger could tear them apart like paper. For diversion, a swarm of clones might be valuable, but in this situation... it would only be a hindrance.
Now, with his sharp mind, brutal instincts, and cunning, he could challenge even the Cursed Heralds, beings far stronger than him in raw power.
Raven let out a piercing, bone-chilling screech and dived from the sky with his three clone. Together, they crashed upon the monstrous avian in a storm of feathers and blood.
Two harrowing birds clashed in midair, their struggle both beautiful and haunting for those who caught a glimpse of the fierce battle from below.
Raven's talons gleamed like black steel as they tore across the creature's stomach, ripping through flesh and severing one of the twisted legs jutting from its abdomen.
The Messenger shrieked and retaliated. Its five remaining limbs lashed out, claws sank into one clone's chest while a hind leg caught its wing, crushing the bone and raking through his cervical vertebrae. The clone screeched but did not falter. Letting the claws pierce deeper, it lunged forward and drove its beak straight into the Messenger's heart.
Then its body dissolved into a gray fog that coiled around the monster, making it hesitate. For the first time, its bleak, hollow eyes showed a clear sign of emotion... and that emotion was fear, as it sensed something terrifying emanating from the gray fog.
Before it could recover, another clone descended from above, slamming its beak into the creature's shoulder and tearing away flesh. The Messenger wailed in agony. A third clone followed, gripping its neck with iron talons, holding it in place.
That was all Raven needed. He cloaked himself in illusion, appearing behind the creature like a shadow breaking through the light. His beak struck true, plunging into the open wound his clones had carved. He tore through sinew and bone until his claws found the beating heart, then ripped it out, his beak closing as the heart was crushed and swallowed whole.
The clones released their hold, dissolving into fog as the dying Messenger plummeted toward the ground. Its shredded body hit the earth with a dull crash, scattering feathers, organs, and a rain of black blood.
How come it's so strong… Raven thought in disbelief, a shiver crawling down his feathered spine. But then his four eyes widened as he realized something so obvious...
He was only one day old. He had hatched yesterday.
Shit! Am I a child soldier!? Amon, that fucking terrorist!
Of course he lacked experience. This was his first real battle, and the only reason he survived was his intelligence and unique abilities. The Cursed Herald had been powerful, but mindless, a monster barely capable of forming a thought.
While Raven caught his breath, the Dreamer army kept fighting. The legion of monsters pressed forward, and the dark sea continued to rise, now lapping at their knees. If they didn't move soon, they would drown and be dragged beneath by the Depth Dwellers.
Yet those on the front lines weren't thinking of themselves. What truly haunted them were the archers, artisans, and handmaidens still fighting from the rear camp.
Yes, the Abominations were trapped between both sides, but that didn't make things any easier. The Sleepers from the camp would have to cut through the entire legion to reach the Crimson Spire… and everyone knew what that meant.
Most of them wouldn't make it.
Even the Sleepers at the front weren't safe. If they turned their backs for even a moment, this cursed place would become their grave.
Morale was crumbling. They were facing two dooms: the rising sea filled with Depth Dwellers, and the endless tide of monsters.
The battlefield had become a blazing, crimson hell. Everywhere they looked, there was only red. Rivers of blood flowed between mountains of corpses. The ground was slick with crimson coral, flames, and shattered armor. Fiery boulders arced through the sky; explosions echoed like thunder.
There was nothing but chaos and a drowning sense of despair.
Of the original seven hundred Sleepers, only five hundred remained. That number persisted only because of the monstrous raven, which had dropped hundreds of corpses trapped in an iron net onto the legion; because of Medici's tactics; the defensive formations; Nephis's healing of the wounded; and Luna's constant support across the field.
But exhaustion was spreading fast. Soon, their strength would fail. And when that happened… they would simply… die.
But they couldn't give up. Not after coming this far.
That was why they kept fighting, step by step, retreating toward the entrance. Each backward step fell on the bridge of crimson coral that connected the labyrinth to the smaller island surrounding the towering gate, a massive doorway that promised escape from this nightmare.
At the same time...
Hmmm...
Amon forced out a pale smile as he intercepted the knight's sword and drove a brutal kick into his opponent's gut. Then he leapt back, putting distance between himself and the seven heroes of the Forgotten Shore, the very ones who had once brought light to this land, now drowned in eternal darkness.
He glanced to his right. The Carapace Centurion and the Cursed Herald were locked in combat with the Hunter, the Priestess, and the Builder.
Meanwhile, Amon faced the Slayer, the Knight, and the Stranger.
The Regal Lord had yet to join the fight. Amon knew exactly why. The bastard was hanging back, supporting the others with his crown, empowering their weapons and making them even deadlier than before.
Then Amon looked ahead.
Hidden behind a tall mound of crimson coral lay a vast, flat expanse stretching all the way to the corrupted walls of the Spire. Arranged in a wide semi-circle across that barren plain were seven colossal heads, all turned away from him.
Even though they faced the other direction, Amon recognized them instantly.
They were the stolen heads of the seven giant statues that once guarded the desolate hell of the Forgotten Shore, torn from their bodies by the Crimson Terror thousands of years ago and dragged here, to rest forever at the base of its citadel.
The Lord.
The Priestess.
The Knight.
The Hunter.
The Builder.
The Slayer.
The Stranger.
Their empty gazes were fixed upon the towering gates of the Spire.
And there, carved into those ancient gates, gleamed the image of seven radiant stars. Each star held a dark keyhole at its center.
He knew what he had to do: insert the keys, seal the Dark Sea, and end this nightmare.
But the Crimson Terror wouldn't let him off that easily.
From the coral itself, it had shaped blasphemous imitations of the seven heroes… and now those grotesque copies were advancing, determined to tear Amon apart.
Even so, Amon wasn't in a hopeless situation, far from it.
In fact, he was almost amused by the Terror's stupidity. These coral-made heroes would have been a deadly threat to any Sleeper on the Forgotten Shore. But Amon wasn't a Sleeper.
He was an Awakened… an Awakened Devil.
And that meant he was far beyond them. Heck, he was the most powerful human on this godforsaken shore.
Am I underestimated? Does that mean the Terror is courting death? Hmm…
A faint smile appeared on his face as he ducked under the Slayer's dagger, swept her leg, and raised the Midnight Shard to block the Knight's downward strike.
The Stranger charged next, shield raised high but Amon had already sensed the attack with his Superior Observation. Instantly, he disrupted the Knight's mind, forcing him to experience hallucinations, and amplified their effects with deceit to further disorient him.
The result was instantaneous.
Instead of him, the Stranger slammed her shield straight into the Knight, shattering armor and sending both crashing against the coral-coated wall. The crimson growth pulsed faintly, as though the Spire itself were bleeding.
Amon straightened, bowing slightly as the two struggled to rise, his smile widening.
But wait… if one is courting death in this world, does that mean they are technically courting the Shadow God? Now that's interesting…
Then he turned, deflecting another slash from the Slayer. Her dark blade clashed against the Midnight Shard in a burst of sparks.
She didn't relent, pressing him relentlessly. Amon found himself mildly irritated and distracted by an idle thought: should he call the Slayer "she" or "it"?
His mouth curled up involuntarily as he let out faint giggles. Ahem… madam. What is your pronoun? Enlighten me, I insist.
He ducked under a kick and retaliated with a horizontal slash across her midsection. But instead of dodging, the Slayer lunged forward, seizing him in a tight grip.
Amon's expression darkened. The Knight and Stranger were already closing in.
So that was her plan, sacrifice herself to hold him in place.
She gripped the Midnight Shard, refusing to let go but Amon simply released it.
A Moonlight Shard instantly materialized in his free hand, its obsidian edge gleaming with cold radiance. Without hesitation, he drove it into the Slayer's eye and pushed the blade deeper, piercing through her skull until it burst from the back of her head.
Then he pulled out a dagger, spun the Slayer around like a lady, and kicked her butt, sending her flying toward the Stranger, who raised her shield to block the impact.
Now that isn't how you treat a lady… or is the Stranger a lady too? Like… now I'm even more confused about pronouns: she or he? Though… if the Stranger is like Stone Saint, then maybe it's she. Hmm… So, gender equality or not? That is the question of the century…
[You have slain Awakened Demon, Simulacrum of the Slayer.]
But before he could think about starting a gender war on the Forgotten Shore, the Stranger and the Knight were already upon him.
Amon leapt back, summoning the Midnight Shard once more. Now he held the dagger in his left hand and the tachi in his right.
Glancing at the two, a shiver ran down his spine, and his palms grew slightly sweaty. Thanks to the Lord's augmentation, they were as strong as Fallen creatures, and that meant he had to deal with the source first.
Amon glanced to his left. Centurion dissolved into pale sparks, only to reform beside him a heartbeat later.
As if sensing his intent, both enemies dashed forward. The Stranger raised her shield, the Knight's sword cut low, ready to rise in an uppercut as Amon sprinted toward the Lord.
Hehe, those guys are idiots. Did they not realize it?
Centurion intercepted them, its scythe slashing down in a blinding arc. The Stranger braced, raising her shield to block the strike, while the Knight slipped past, closing in on Amon.
The Lord was already preparing for battle as well, his massive fists tightening. But neither he nor the Knight expected what came next.
Amon spun around, the Knight only a few meters away, sword ready to pierce his back.
But flames bloomed between Amon's fingers, twisting into a spear of white fire. He laughed, eyes wide with focus, muscles coiling with raw strength, then hurled it.
The flaming spear struck the Knight's head, shattering his helmet before erupting into an explosion that reduced his upper body to a rain of crimson coral.
Bingo!
[You have slain an Awakened Demon, Simulacrum of the Knight.]
Amon ignored the whisper of the Spell, shaking his head with a faint, mocking grin.
"Heh… my knight in shining armour. I think it's pretty gay to protect your lord... where's the lady… I mean, forget what I said. Still… think before… oh, you poor thing. Forgot you don't have a brain like your mindless cunt of a lady."
Before coming here, Amon had stolen the Flaming Spear from Medici but that wasn't the only thing he took. He had siphoned off several of Medici's strongest skills, the ones the exhausted Edgelord couldn't even use anymore. And not just from him, Amon had stolen plenty from the Abominations as well.
But perhaps his most valuable theft was from Luna: a simple foundation of flesh-and-blood magic. It allowed him to harden his flesh and reinforce his bones, turning his body into a weapon. He was like a character in that game… what was it called… Prototype protagonist? Ahh, whatever. The point was, he was cool as fuck right now.
Let's finish Bobby B Lite now…
He dashed toward the Lord, sending Centurion to assist the Cursed Herald, who was still locked in combat against three of the false heroes.
Amon's body twisted and cracked as the skill took effect. His arm mutated into a grotesque, armored gauntlet, tendons tightening like cables beneath the hardened skin. Then, with a thought, he wreathed the arm in crimson flames and closed the distance in an instant.
At the last second, he gathered his essence into the burning limb. Using mental disruption, he scrambled the Lord's senses, then amplified the effect with his Awakened ability, making Amon's form appear blurred, sometimes four or five of him seemed to advance at once, disorienting his opponent completely.
Amon's eyes gleamed as he drove his fist forward with bone-cracking force.
"Fire Fist… type shit, I guess…"
The blow landed squarely on the Lord's face, the explosion of crimson flame echoing through the hollow expanse. The creature's skull shattered, bursting apart into countless shards of coral.
[You have slain Awakened Demon, Simulacrum of the Lord.]
Amon exhaled slowly as the warped flesh of his arm returned to normal.
"Fatality… flawless victory," he muttered. Then, slowly, he realized he was bored. Wait... this is too easy, isn't it? It indeed was. Ahh, yeah. Even Sleeper Sunny could beat the shit out of them with Saint. And I have the Cursed Herald and Centurion with me. Not to mention, I'm an Awakened Devil. No wonder I'm pulverizing them without going all out…
Still, there was no time to waste. He turned sharply, sprinting toward the others to finish the fight against the remaining simulacrums.
Flames began to whirl wildly in Amon's palm, spiraling faster and faster until the entire cavern blazed with a blinding yellow light.
He grinned as the Hunter noticed him and raised his spear, only for the Cursed Herald to intercept the attack, buying him the precious seconds he needed.
The flames in his hand compressed violently, shrinking into a sphere the size of a basketball. It spun and hissed like a caged sun, fire lashing within its boundaries. Then, with a sharp flick of his wrist, Amon hurled it toward the spot where the Builder and Priestess were locked in battle with Centurion.
BOOM!
The explosion tore through the entrance of the Spire. A storm of scorching fire swallowed the two simulacrums whole, vaporizing coral, stone, and bone alike. When the flames finally dimmed, nothing remained, not even dust.
Without hesitation, Amon recalled Centurion back into his soul before the creature could be destroyed completely. Then, turning sharply, he fixed his gaze on the Hunter.
Theft!
The word echoed in his mind. A faint blob of light tore free from the Hunter's soul, visible only to him, drifting into his outstretched hand.
A new ability, huh… I wonder what this one does, he thought with a curious look and activated it.
The world turned crimson.
Everything slowed, not because time had stopped, but because his senses had been pushed to their absolute limit. Every heartbeat, every vibration in the air, every flicker of movement was crystal clear.
Interesting…
The corners of his lips curled upward.
The Cursed Herald descended upon the Hunter, its talons tearing through the air. Amon raised the Midnight Shard, his eyes wide and bloodshot, sweat clinging to his hair, his pulse pounding like thunder in his chest.
He could feel the scorching heat from the explosion. He could feel his own heart beating in his chest... and he could feel the blade sink into the Hunter's neck, too.
This is crazy, he thought, a wide smile spreading across his face.
In three minutes and twenty-two seconds, Amon the Blasphemer had slain all seven Simulacra of the seven heroes of the Forgotten Shore.
[You Have Slain Awakened Demon, Simulacrum Of The Hunter.]
Amon looked at the flames and shattered bodies, tilting his head as he let out a sigh, staring upward as if seeing something no one else could, something like the Crimson Terror, the artificial sun of the Forgotten Shore.
"You understood that I was powerful enough to beat them. Yet you still sent them to a meaningless death… Have you ever heard of ambush? Why take such a risk when you could have released those cheap knockoffs when every Sleeper was here? They would have given you the opportunity to finish all the heavy hitters from our side in one go…"
He spoke with a blank look, then sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.
"Well, I expected too much… At the end of the day, you're still a mindless beast. But I think I'll surprise you one more time…"
He smiled, massaging his neck as he glanced at the keyholes.
"Okay, while I'm a professional yapper, I think this is enough," he muttered, glancing at his runes.
Oath Key: [7]
Hmm… not yet, it's too late… but I think it's time to call Medici in. He thought, sending Raven a mental command to give Medici the signal.