Chapter 21: Helpless
Nov 18
Amon crouched low, muscles coiled, aura trembling.
And launched himself like a bullet.
"GAAAAAH!!!"
BOOM!!
The ground erupted. Dust and smoke swallowed the corridor in a violent burst.
James shot out of the cloud first, leaping backward through the air with sharp precision.
But a shadow followed him.
Amon.
Small, feral closing in like a predator.
He appeared before James in an instant, claws gleaming where fingernails once were, and slashed straight for his throat.
a killing strike.
James' eyes narrowed. His hand moved once.
A simple, effortless redirection.
CLANG!
Amon's claws tore past him, carving a deep gouge across the floor below. Stone splintered. The ground hissed.
'Such power…!'
But Amon didn't pause.
"HAAAH!!"
He lunged again a wild frenzy of slashes, each more vicious than the last. Claws blurred, ripping through the air with animalistic speed.
But James? He remained calm. Almost bored.
Every attack was redirected with a single, minimal motion: a tap of the wrist, a nudge of the palm.
SHNK! SHNK! SHNK!
Each deflection created another massive claw mark across the floor and walls.
"Hahaha!" James burst into laughter. "What are you? Some kind of animal!?"
He caught both of Amon's wrists mid-swing,
stopping him cold.
Amon snarled. "I'm not done!"
He jerked his head back and slammed it forward attempting a brutal headbutt.
James tilted his head at a strange angle, letting the attack slice past harmlessly.
"Oh, I think you are."
Still holding Amon's wrists, James spun.
A clean twist.
a perfect arc.
WHRRR!
Amon flipped through the air, helpless.
James released him at just the right moment and drove a brutal kick into his face.
The boy rocketed downward.
As Amon fell, James raised his palm.
A red magic circle flared to life—glowing, spinning.
"Fire Magic… Fire Bullet."
Compressed flames gathered at the center, molten-bright and deadly.
FWOOOM!
The bullet-shaped blast roared forth, streaking toward Amon like a meteor.
James smirked.
"That's the end of—"
But Amon…
…smiled.
While falling, bleeding, and barely conscious.
He smiled.
No fear.
Not even a flicker.
He inhaled sharply. The air around him trembled.
"ORA!!!"
His scream shook the dust from the air.
An invisible force burst from his mouth,
a raw, violent pressure that smashed into the Fire Bullet.
FWSSSH!!!
The spell was crushed mid-air… pushed back… and evaporated into wild streams of dying flame.
James' eyes widened.
Amon fell through the drifting sparks, hair turning pale white, aura spiraling around him like a newborn storm.
A transcended one… approaches.
Haa… haa…"
Amon's breath came out ragged, uneven. His legs trembled beneath him.
My vision's… fading. Body's too heavy… too slow…
Across from him, James pushed himself up from the ground, dusting off his coat with irritating calm.
"I'm actually impressed," he said lightly. "Even after closing those earlier wounds, you still lost a tremendous amount of blood. And yet here you are—still standing."
His smile sharpened.
"Tell me something, Amon. Are you even human?"
Amon let out a breath that might've been a laugh.
"Heh… do me a favor—go fuck yourself."
He raised a shaking middle finger.
A twitch cracked James' perfect smile. His hand flicked, the Tenebris Shackle etched across it igniting.
The floor split.
Chains erupted like striking serpents, coiling around Amon's torso in an instant.
"What a sharp tongue," James sighed. With a lazy swing of his arm, the chains snapped tight.
Before Amon could blink, he was yanked off his feet—
—and hurled.
The throw sent him crashing into a distant wall, stone exploding around his small frame. A strangled grunt left him, barely audible.
"Let's fix that."
James' voice held a smile as he whipped the chains again.
Amon became a ragdoll in the air.
Floor.
Ceiling.
Broken machinery.
Chunks of debris.
Every impact tore a sound from his body—short, sharp, involuntary.
Finally, James twisted the chain and reeled Amon toward him. On his other hand, the Emberfang Gauntlet ignited, glowing like a furnace.
He clenched his fist.
Amon flew right into the incoming punch.
The blow detonated against his face with a monstrous BAM, sending his small body corkscrewing across the room before it smashed into a mound of shattered rubble.
This was never a fight.
It was never meant to be.
Amon is a five-year-old boy.
He has fragments of knowledge, no technique, no combat training, barely any understanding of his own magic. Yes—his potential is extraordinary. His magic is rare. His power eclipses grown mages.
But none of it matters.
His power has no discipline.
His strength has no shape.
Every miracle he's produced so far has come from raw, unfiltered emotion.
He cannot fight.
Not yet.
James, on the other hand—
—knows exactly how.
He's a veteran mage.
A scientist who has dissected magic for years.
A martial artist.
A wielder of two powerful magical tools.
And above all, he fights with precision born from experience and cruelty sharpened by intent.
This clash isn't heroic. It isn't balanced.
It's a child with limitless potential—
facing a man who knows how to dismantle that potential before it ever blossoms.
One day, Amon will become a monster.
A transcendent force that warps the world itself.
But today?
He's just a boy.
A boy fighting because he has no choice.
A boy whose future is immense—
but whose present is painfully human.
---
James dusted his gloves and spoke as if lecturing a classroom.
"I don't simply train artificial mages," he said. "I manufacture loyalty."
Beside him, Alex let out a breath that might have been a laugh—soft, mirthless.
After James creates an artificial mage—usually a child whose mind is still soft—he begins what he calls "Attunement." It sounds scientific. It isn't. It's conditioning wrapped in the language of mentorship, Alex thought.
James believes the seed of obedience grows best in terror.
So early on, he exposes children to:
—controlled pain
—forced isolation
—manufactured helplessness
He calls them 'tests,' always delivered with that chilling, calm tone. The goal isn't to break them immediately—it's to make him the only stable point in their world.
Pain is never constant.
He administers it sparingly, surgically. Like flipping a switch.
Disobey? Pain.
Panic? Pain.
Retaliate? Pain.
But the instant they comply?
He changes.
Praise.
Soft tone.
A gentle hand on the head.
A warm smile.
Children latch onto that warmth like drowning victims. He becomes the emotional anchor in the storm he created.
Over months—years—the children stop seeing him as a captor.
He becomes their savior.
Their protector.
Their father.
Their world.
By the time they grow into full artificial mages, their minds are wired to equate James with safety—obedience—and identity.
Children are easy to bind.
Teens resist.
Adults fight.
But children?
Children imprint.
They fear.
They cling.
They devote.
James doesn't want followers.
He wants a family—handcrafted, loyal, unbreakable.
He wants an army of artificial mages who see his commands as natural law.
A web of "children" across nations—
silent, loyal, absolute.
This was the world James envisioned.
And Alex knew it all too well.
Slowly—stubbornly—Amon pushed himself to his feet.
His eyes were barely half-open. Fresh blood trailed from his mouth. His entire body shook with pain, raw and violent, like every breath was a battle of its own.
His bodysuit was shredded, hanging off him in strips. Every movement made him stagger.
'He's still standing…? This child's will is monstrous.' James narrowed his eyes.
He slid one foot back, settling into a crescent stance, rear foot narrow, front foot stable. His weight centered. Knees soft. His balance is perfect.
His torso twisted toward Amon, shoulders relaxed yet coiled, a spring ready to snap.
The air around him sharpened.
His forward hand extended, palm open, gentle and precise. His rear fist tightened near the ribs, wrapped in spiraling currents of aura.
"This is the martial art I use!" James announced.
Unlike any mage, unlike any wizard, James possessed no magic power of his own.
No Ethernano. No magical lineage.
Nothing.
Yet he was still terrifying.
"Shi-Ryu — The Flowing Death Style!"
James shot forward.
Amon's half-lidded eyes snapped open.
He bent low, spine curving, posture twisting into something instinctive—something feral.
"Aaaaargh!!"
He launched forward with a raw scream, colliding with James head-on.
The next moment was a blur.
BAM!
WHAM!
CRACK!
Each impact landed faster than a blink, blows that crushed bone and tore flesh, raining down on Amon from every angle.
His head jerked left—right—left—right—
A storm of fists struck him relentlessly.
Amon swung wildly, claws flashing, trying to tear into James. But every strike was effortlessly parried, redirected with insulting ease.
"You've got power behind those claws," James laughed, "but every move you make is predictable!"
Watching from afar, Alex grinned.
'Kid's got spirit, but spirit won't beat Shi-Ryu. True masters aren't strong because of muscle… but because they understand flow, momentum, intent.'
James wasn't a master. But he didn't need to be. Even learning this art made a man dangerous.
"Don't disappoint me!" James barked. His palm slammed into Amon's chest.
BOOM!
The boy slid back across the floor.
James was already on him.
A swift kick caught Amon mid-stumble.
THUD!
He rolled across broken concrete.
"Gh!" Amon choked, but couldn't recover.
James leapt high, then came down like a hammer.
CRASH!
The ground cracked open beneath Amon as fist after fist smashed into him. Each impact echoed like thunder.
'James… you bastard. Attacking a kid like this…' Amon's thoughts blurred. 'Damn it… I'm blacking out… I'm… going to die…'
Blood filled his mouth. He spat it straight into James's eye.
James flinched. One second. That was all Amon had.
He bolted backward on all fours, animal-like, scrambling away.
"Well now…" James smirked, wiping his face. "He uses everything he has just to stay alive. I'll admit… I'm impressed."
'I have to run… I have to find Rex… I have to get out…!'
"You're not going anywhere."
Alex appeared beside him in a blur.
His knee shot into Amon's chest.
WHAM!
Amon's breath was ripped out of him. He crashed into a pool of spilled blood, rolling helplessly.
"I told you I'd take out Rex." Alex lowered into a stance. He didn't even bother drawing his weapon—not for an exhausted child.
"Let's finish this, Alexander!" James shouted, now at his side.
Father and son ran toward Amon, together.
Amon staggered upright, only for another barrage to crash into him.
Fists. Knees. Elbows. More hits than before. More pain. More cruelty.
His small body snapped left and right beneath the assault.
'Alex… you bastard… beating someone who can barely stand… they really have no shame…'
'Even if I begged on my knees, they wouldn't spare me. I'm a tool to them. A weapon to shape. A monster to tame…'
'Rex… did he… die? Alex said… something…'
Through the haze, two faces flickered in his mind.
Sera.
Amy.
'I'm sorry… I might not keep my promise…'
His own words echoed painfully:
"If you're weak… you can't protect anyone."
'Sera… Amy… Rex… I'm sorry… I failed all of you…'
Then, a woman's face flashed through his mind.
Black hair.
Violet eyes.
A warm smile.
'Mother… I failed you… too…'
James's laughter broke through Amon's thoughts—sharp, manic, gleeful.
"Hahahaha!! I'm going to break you and rebuild you from the ground up!"
He raised his hand.
"Suffer."
---
Amon lay slumped against a shattered wall, cracks spiderwebbing behind him. His head hung low, chin touching his chest.
Unconscious. Barely breathing.
His small body trembled with every weak inhale.
"Finally," James exhaled, swiping sweat from his forehead. "I'm surprised he held out that long."
"I couldn't agree more," Alexander muttered, rubbing the soreness from his neck. "It's been one hell of a day."
The two stood over the broken boy.
"I'll give him credit," Alex added. "He lasted far longer than a kid in his condition should've."
And he was right.
Amon had never been used to connection.
Amy and Sera were the first real warmth he'd felt since his mother.
Losing them, right before his eyes, fractured something inside him.
He grew up suppressing emotions to survive.
When Amy and Sera died, those suppressed emotions overflowed
All that grief. All that rage. All that loneliness.
Everything he'd buried clawed its way to the surface.
The overload was catastrophic. It rewired him.
Pushed him past his physical and mental limits. He was a five-year-old in body, but a storm in spirit.
He hadn't been fighting with skill.
Or knowledge. Or control.
He'd been fighting with anger. With the raw, suffocating hatred boiling inside him.
And that hatred fed the thing sleeping in his core.
Anger Empowerment.
Amon's Anger Empowerment is a volatile, emotion-driven amplification effect born from the Curse of Hatred residing within him. It isn't a technique, spell, or transformation — it's a reaction, an involuntary surge of magic and physical strength triggered by his emotional state.
The deeper he sank emotionally, the higher he rose physically.
It was power. but it was eating him alive from the inside.
James crouched beside Amon, amusement flickering across his face.
"You know…" he said softly, "I really thought you and I were going to have a lot of fun together."
"Heh…!"
The weak laugh shook James to his core. His eyes widened with a sick excitement.
"Oh? Oh?" he grinned. "You're still with me? Don't start the party without me!"
James suddenly lay down right next to Amon on the floor, shoulder to shoulder.
"Ha… haha…"
Amon's broken laughter cracked the air.
"Hahaha…"
James joined him.
"Hahahahaha!"
"Hah… hahahahahah!!"
Their laughter echoed together—feral, eerie, unhinged.
Alex finally groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Don't you think we should finish this already? You're being creepy again."
"Fine, fine."James rose slowly, cracking his neck. Then lifted his hand.
Resting in his palm was a blood-red Lacrima, thrumming like a beating heart.
"So much rage buried inside you," James whispered. "If only you could channel it toward your destiny…"
He hovered his hand over Amon's chest.
"I would proudly take you by the arm."
He released the Lacrima.
It drifted downward slowly, deliberate.
Then sank directly into Amon's chest, disappearing beneath the skin in a pulse of crimson light.
Amon's body jerked.
The room trembled.
And thus…
The second stage of Project Requiem began.
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