ali stood still atop the frozen summit, his breath rising in steady plumes as the wind howled around him. The jagged rocks and endless stretch of snow had once been a perfect training ground—isolated, raw, unyielding. But now, something gnawed at his focus.
His punches had become erratic. His balance was off. And worst of all, Albion was silent.
"Albion," Vali said aloud, narrowing his eyes. "You're being too quiet."
Seconds passed before the ancient dragon finally responded, his voice distant and hesitant. "Partner... there is a presence that does not belong."
Vali stiffened. "You're only telling me now?"
"It was hidden," Albion answered. "Even from me. But it is growing stronger—like a corruption seeded within your aura."
Vali scowled. Amon. He didn't need confirmation to know who was behind it. Ever since that whisper, the weight pressing down on him had grown with each passing day. At first, he thought it was paranoia. Then instinct. Now it was something else entirely: truth.
He had become a target.
Suddenly, the clouds above parted. Not from the weather—from something far more unnatural. A ripple in the sky, like oil spreading through water, shimmered and twisted into the shape of a jagged eye.
Vali raised his hand.
"Divine Dividing."
Wings of light and ice burst from his back, scattering frost in every direction. Armor began to form around him, a white sheen of dragon scales, but it faltered. The plating on his left gauntlet flickered and vanished.
"Tch… Damn it!"
He flew back just as the air around him warped, and a figure stepped through the fracture in space.
It wore no defined face—a silhouette of shadow wrapped in shifting robes, layered with masks and false reflections. Wherever its feet touched, the snow darkened into ash.
Amon had come in person.
"Ah, the White Dragon Emperor," the figure said in a voice that echoed like a thousand others speaking at once. "The pawn of Azazel, the rebellious bloodline of Lucifer."
Vali flared his wings. "You want to possess me too? Not happening."
"Possess? No, no," Amon replied, tilting his head unnaturally. "You are no hollow shell like Riser. You're a sovereign piece. It would be such a waste to hollow you out."
Vali rushed him without another word, twin blasts of draconic energy spiraling toward Amon.
The figure didn't dodge.
Instead, he extended a hand and fractured the attacks. Not blocked, not absorbed—the energy split apart mid-flight as though they were illusions. Vali's eyes widened.
"What the hell?!"
Amon stepped forward. "I bend error. That which should not be."
The ground under Vali melted into reflective black shards, and from them erupted dozens of shadowy arms, all grabbing and clawing. Vali summoned a barrier, breaking free with a roar.
The Sacred Gear hummed, energy intensifying. In a flash, Vali was above Amon, bringing down a blow meant to shatter mountains.
His fist landed—and passed through Amon like water.
Too late, Vali saw the trap.
The false image of Amon vanished, and behind him, the real one raised a hand. A glowing sigil—a rune of impossible geometry—flared into Vali's back.
Pain lanced through him as his armor cracked.
"Ghhhhh—!"
Amon spoke again, softly. "You feel it now, don't you? The hesitation in your core. The idea that perhaps your strength is not truly your own."
Albion roared within Vali's mind. "Don't listen to it! That power is yours!"
Vali dropped to one knee, gasping, but the fear didn't reach his eyes.
"You want to talk about corruption? You're the only parasite here."
Then, in a burst of light, he activated Juggernaut Drive—a limited form, only partially unlocked, but enough.
White light radiated across the summit, and this time, Vali moved too fast.
His fist connected with Amon's chest.
The figure cracked—not physically, but in concept. His form split like a stained mirror, showing fragments of priests, kings, monsters, and victims.
Amon stumbled back, laughing.
"Ah, yes… magnificent!"
But before Vali could press the attack, the corruption in his body flared. His limbs locked. His wings flickered.
"No… not now!"
Amon looked on, unbothered. "Still fragile. But I'll be back. When the idea of me has fully taken root in your soul."
He vanished with a whisper of broken glass.
Vali collapsed to one knee, panting. Albion stabilized his energy just in time.
"That… was too close," Vali muttered.
"He left a mark on you," Albion said. "But now that we know his frequency, I can isolate the corruption. We must tell Azazel."
Meanwhile, Azazel had already begun mobilizing.
He burst into a meeting with Shemhazai and a holographic projection of Michael.
"He moved against Vali," Azazel said without preamble.
Michael's face grew grave. "Is he…?"
"Alive. But wounded. Amon's targeting him sooner than anticipated. He's not just playing with devils anymore—he's rewriting the game."
Michael nodded slowly. "Then perhaps it's time to act."
Azazel leaned over the console. "Call the Vatican. Tell them Amon made his first real move."