Amon ran away laughing, dashing down the mountain while hearing perhaps the most pleasant voice he had ever heard.
[You have slain a Dormant human. Name: Unknown.]
[You have slain a Dormant human. Name: Unknown.]
[You have slain an Awakened human. Name: Unknown.]
[You have slain an Awakened human. Name: Unknown.]
[You have slain an Awakened...]
Amon's smile froze.
That many?
But then again, there were hundreds of people in the temple. Sure, the temple wasn't small. In fact, it could house even thousands… but this? He hadn't expected this.
The Spell kept going, continuing to announce his kills. Ten. Twenty. Sixty…
Amon's expression slowly twisted.
What the… hell?
[You have received a Memory: Hidden Blades]
[You have received a Memory: Hawk's Eye]
[You have received a Memory: Hearth]
Amon's expression twisted with displeasure as he heard the Spell's voice.
Only three?
If he was right, he'd killed over a hundred people and all he got were three Memories? Was the Spell playing favorites? Did it hate him or something?
Well… whatever. If he lacked Memories in the future, he could just steal them. No need to worry.
But that wasn't all.
A piercing pain shot through him: not in his mind, not in his body… but somewhere else, somewhere deeper. His soul was absorbing soul fragments… too many, all at once.
He collapsed mid-run, gasping, trying to calm himself down.
Amon never liked pain.
Hell, he didn't even enjoy inflicting pain on others, let alone suffering it himself.
After few minutes, he calmed down and pain subsided. He let out soft sigh as he looked at sky.
Name: Amon.
True Name: —
Rank: Aspirant.
Soul Core: Dormant.
Memories: [Hidden Blades], [Hawk's Eye], [Hearth].
Echoes: —
Attributes: [Uniqueness of Error], [Liar], [Superior Observation], [Marauder].
Aspect: [Charlatan].
Aspect Description: [Charlatan is someone who fakes it until they make it.]
Hmm… well, soul fragments weren't so bad, around three or four hundred. Hehehe. Who cares how strong you are or what kind of Aspect you have? I just killed dozens of people, Awakened warriors included, with nothing but tricks.
He had expected more than this, honestly, but judging by the result, those Awakened weren't that impressive. Their cores probably weren't even saturated. That's why numbers wasn't that great.
Who would believe it anyway? No one would ever guess a single thief used nothing but trickery and deceit to kill over a hundred people.
Now that he thought about it, he realized he had forgotten to check the runes of his new Memories. Summoning them again, two hidden blades appeared, strapped beneath his forearms with sleek metal bracers.
Amon studied them with fascination, then looked up with a polite smile.
"You know what, Miss Spell? My apologies for my earlier comment. Just this alone is a wonderful gift."
With a flick of his wrist, a quiet hiss escaped the mechanism as the blade snapped out from beneath his sleeve.
Amon looked at the blades with a satisfied smile… but then froze.
"Wait... how do I retract them?"
He began experimenting with different motions as he walked, and then, with a subtle flick of his hand, the blade slid back into its sheath with a soft click.
He looked down, barely containing his excitement, and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.
"Don't worry, Altaïr. I won't disappoint you, Mentor. Indeed… Nothing is true, everything is permitted... I hope blowing up that temple was permitted too..."
After satisfying his curiosity, a string of runes shimmered into view before him. He began to read:
[... And he searched for freedom all his life, not just for himself, but for everyone. He fought and followed what he believed to be right, only to discover that the benevolent god he served was far more cruel than he had ever imagined, as he stood amidst the ruins of Astarax.
The Head Priest betrayed and imprisoned him. And over time, all memory of him faded into oblivion.
It was only in a cage that he came to a bitter realization, one that made him laugh.
A man who searches for freedom will search forever. For he does not realize that freedom is merely a dream, a fleeting illusion. No one can attain absolute freedom, not even gods...]
Amon stared at the runes, a bit bewildered but the more he thought about it, the more he found wisdom in the words of the unknown man, whose name and face had long been forgotten.
Absolute freedom? It was an impossible concept. The word freedom itself was a lie.
The world of Shadow Slave he now lived in offered clear enough proof. Sunny had broken free from fate but was it truly fate that enslaved him? Or his own desires?
In the end, he had crawled back to Nephis, following her just as he had before. That was one of the reasons Amon had stopped liking the novel. All of that… for nothing? Sure, Sunny loved her, and the Shadow Bond was part of the problem, but... it still felt pathetic.
Amon could never understand that. Escaping the chains of fate only to end up in the same place?
No Shadow Bond. No slavery. But did that change anything?
A dog will still be a dog, fate or not.
That thought echoed in his mind, mocking, amused, and laced with dark humour. Well, in the end, the real GOAT was Weaver. Now he was someone Amon could respect.
"Amon! Over here!"
He snapped out of his thoughts, realizing he had already reached his destination without even noticing.
Looking at his companions, he gave a small, courteous bow, a pleasant smile on his lips.
"Well? How was my performance?"
They stared at him, bewildered, shocked and speechless. Bernak stepped forward, blinking rapidly before letting out a long sigh.
"My boy... What you did was, indeed, amazing. And I understand why you did it too... no doubt the Head Priest already notified Alerak and would've betrayed us..."
He paused, rubbing his forehead.
"...But burning the Temple of the Sun God? That's... well, it's just so ironic. Such a grand and pathetic end for the Sun's sacred temple..."
Kaisarius nodded, his expression still confused and lost.
"You're now a criminal… You'll be loathed and hated by all. It's a great dishonor, my little warrior. A name of Blasphemer..."
Amon's eyes widened. Blasphemer? Finally! he was living up to his name. The original Amon would be proud, hehe.
"Well, Blasphemer isn't such a bad title… Oh, shit."
They all stared at him with wide eyes, until Gray let out a disbelieving laugh.
"All of that... Just for a title?"
Amon coughed, a little embarrassed.
"Well, you guys gave me the title of Fraud, so I had to..."
Kaisarius sighed and shook his head, looking completely exhausted.
"You could've just asked. I can change titles…"
Amon just shrugged, pleased with the outcome. He wasn't from the Fool's Pathway! Fraud didn't suit him at all. If it was Scammer, maybe he would've accepted it. But Fraud? No way.
Without a word, he threw the runestone at Kaisarius, who caught it and stared at it, clenching his fists with that same unreadable expression Amon could never decipher.
"So... now what?" Amon asked, tilting his head.
Bernak, Arias, and Kaisarius decided to head west. Kaisarius needed to rally the banners and reclaim his throne. The runestone wasn't just a key to removing the barrier from the capital, it was also a symbol, something that could ignite hope among the noble houses and motivate them toward victory.
Meanwhile, Nika, Gray, Liparik, and Amon traveled east. Their mission was also to rally banners and gather as many supporters as possible, though their path wasn't as dangerous or difficult as Kaisarius's. Their goal was to win over the city of Nepo, the greatest trading hub in the region and a crucial port.
Klaus had always heard that war needed money but now, he truly understood just how much.
Along the way, he asked his companions to train him. But Nika and Gray both declined. Apparently, he didn't have the physique of a warrior, so they couldn't teach him their styles.
Lazy bums...
But Liparik accepted. He actually did! The most silent guy in the group turned out to be the most generous too. Amon had shown him the hidden blades and asked how to train with them. While Liparik wasn't an assassin in the traditional sense, he was still an experienced hunter. That alone made him more than qualified to teach.
And he didn't stop at the hidden blades. Liparik trained him in the use of daggers and bows as well.
Though, Amon was still a weakling. His skills weren't anything great but after two months of traveling, he had improved. Liparik told him he was now above average with weapons.
Above average...
That left a bitter taste in his mouth.
But that wasn't even the worst part! Why did people have such creepy personalities when they trained others?
"Oh, I won't allow you to rest until you master this technique."
"Train until you can't move body."
"You're a failure. How disappointing..."
Bullshit! Just say you want to show off, Shifu!
Gods above knew how many times he backed out of training and ran away... But that bastard always caught him, dragged him back, and then beat the crap out of him, only to hand him over to Nika for healing. Eventually, even the thought of running made him flinch. That's how traumatic it had become.
After a week, they reached Nepo.
It was a grand city built over the water, its harbors filled with towering ships and bustling life. The sight reminded Amon of Venice. It was picturesque, elegant… and as always, the air was thick with the glorious fragrance of fish and shit.
Magnificent, really...
Liparik glanced over at the group, his piercing gaze solemn.
"We're here to gain allies. Don't cause any trouble… I'm talking to you, Amon. Don't blow up anything."
Amon nodded with a pleasant smile. Why was he always so suspicious? He wasn't a barbarian like the rest of them. And besides, he wouldn't blow anything up. He had other methods in mind.
"Understood. Don't you worry about a thing."
The others gave him skeptical looks, shook their heads, and moved on, leaving Amon to trail behind. He caught up quickly, and soon enough, they arrived at the city lord's castle.
Liparik explained their situation and requested an audience with the lord. The guards agreed but didn't allow any weapons inside.
That's when Amon felt a chill.
Liparik stepped forward and began unloading his gear: bow, quiver, two daggers, two short swords, six knives, and a couple of poison vials...
The guards nodded, then narrowed their eyes.
"I said every weapon."
With an annoyed sigh, Liparik pulled off his boots. The guard took one and click... a hidden blade snapped out from inside.
Well... at least they gave him a replacement pair.
Gray wasn't too bad, just his spear and a few daggers.
But then came Nika…
He placed two short swords on the table. Then a crossbow. Then twelve knives from inside his coat.
Amon gawked.
You lying bastard! You said you only had daggers! Just admit you didn't want to share! No wonder Kaisarius gave you that dirty look!
Taking off his sheathed daggers in disbelief, he walked inside the castle. Now, it was time for plagiarism… ahem, an inspiring speech.
Let's see what level my bullshitting skills are at...