Amon and his friends eventually arrived at the grand castle. It was a magnificent piece of architecture, beautiful and unique in its design. A castle on water? Well, that was something new. Even more impressive were the statues: towering figures of a woman holding the clouds in her hands.
Amon assumed it was a statue of the Storm God, and it made sense. He had already seen the Sun God's temple, and now this. Naturally, as someone who always respected the gods, he bowed politely before continuing on his way.
Surprisingly, the castle wasn't filled with luxurious decorations. Instead, it leaned more toward practicality and solemnity. The entire structure was shrouded in darkness, with only a few dim lights piercing the oppressive halls, casting long shadows on the stone walls.
Eventually, they arrived at the main hall: the place where the Lord of Nepo met his guests and heard the concerns of his people.
But the Lord wasn't what Amon expected. He had imagined some dashing, heroic figure with a wise, commanding presence who carried the weight of leadership on his shoulders.
Instead, what he found was an arrogant boy lounging on the throne.
The young man had brown eyes and black hair, average in height, with a smug expression that reeked of entitlement. He couldn't have been more than nineteen or twenty.
…Who's this bum?
Amon stared in disbelief. That was the lord? That brat?
Yep. Definitely a brat.
The boy looked over their group, his smirk widening before he burst out laughing, lounging on the throne in the most disrespectful manner possible, as if mocking their very existence.
Amon felt a wave of pure annoyance wash over him.
Who the hell does this guy think he is? Main character or something?
Yeah, yeah, throw your head back and laugh like some third-rate villain from a bullshit harem anime.
Cornball...
Liparik stepped forward, bowing respectfully, though Amon could clearly see a hint of murderous intent in his eyes. He straightened, facing the lord with solemn dignity.
"I greet the Lord of Nepo. May the grace of the Storm God guide your way."
The young lord rolled his eyes, visibly annoyed by the formalities.
"Yes, yes. And who are you again?"
His smirk was laced with mockery, his eyes brimming with arrogance.
Liparik, though clearly displeased, kept his face neutral and answered seriously:
"I'm here to remind you of your oath, my lord. I do not doubt the Lord of Nepo's loyalty to the line of Varin."
As Liparik continued to speak, the lord's expression grew darker, his annoyance turning to open disdain. It was clear he didn't enjoy being reminded of duties or oaths.
After half an hour of tense discussion, Amon and the others were dismissed from the hall.
From the look on the little bastard's face, it was obvious, he was doing everything he could to avoid fulfilling his duty.
Amon stared at his companions in their chambers, his expression growing more thoughtful as Liparik explained the situation.
"So he's not the real lord, but his nephew? If the actual lord is bedridden, then things are more complicated than I thought."
Liparik nodded and leaned back with a sigh.
"Yes... That's how it is. And it's suspicious. All the great Travelers are absent, and the lord suddenly falls ill? Doesn't add up."
Nika and Gray snorted in unison, while a flicker of delight lit up Amon's eyes.
"Well, no worries. We'll handle it. Let's rest for now, I'll explore the castle in the meantime."
Liparik gave him a skeptical look but nodded reluctantly.
"Just... don't cause any trouble."
Amon nodded and left the chambers with a cheerful hum.
Two days passed, and the wannabe cringe lord still avoided his duties. At this point, Amon didn't even care what that bum was up to, he was far more invested in investigating the real issue.
Now, he sat comfortably in the office, legs propped up on the table, a wide grin on his face as he flipped through documents and letters.
"So that's how it is... That delusional guy is cooked."
As it turned out, Travelers were like nobles in Nepo. Since the Storm God was also the God of Travel, great explorers held high prestige in the city. The fact that they were all absent was more than suspicious. But the truth? They had simply left. Yep. After that arrogant brat took the city lord's seat, they decided he wasn't worthy of their service and walked away.
And the true Lord of Nepo?
"Poisoning your own uncle... Really? That's messed up, my guy. The man raised you like his own son..."
Amon's mouth curled into a sly smile as he stood up, quickly scribbling notes and making copies of the incriminating documents and letters. Hopefully, no one would recognize or check the originals before he resolved this pathetic little problem.
The next day, only Liparik and Gray were present in the main hall, trying once again to confront the brat about his responsibilities as Lord of Nepo.
"That's enough! I am the Lord! No one can tell me what to do! Who are you, mongrels, to tell me what to do!?" the boy snapped, his voice shrill and face red with fury.
Liparik's expression darkened. A chilling gleam entered his eyes as he stepped forward.
"I am a Hunter," he said, his tone low and cold, "and then a General of my King. You'd do yourself a favor and remember your duty, boy."
The guards stiffened, wariness settling in. There was something dangerous and animalistic in Liparik's voice.
As for the "lord"? He snapped completely. His sneer turned into full-blown hatred as he bellowed, "How dare you…! Seize them! I want them thrown into the dungeons!"
The guards exchanged hesitant glances, uncertain… but eventually moved toward Liparik and Gray to carry out the order.
Just then-BANG!
The gates swung open with a thunderous crack, making everyone freeze. A guard at the entrance raised his voice with reverent solemnity.
"The Master of Nepo! Protector of Sailors! The Lord Fronti!"
An elderly man with gray hair and a long, unkempt beard entered the hall. He stood at barely 160 centimeters... at least, under the current circumstances. His back was hunched, and he could hardly walk without Nika's support. But if he were to straighten that crooked spine...
Amon would have to look up. Again... and again... and again.
The man would tower like a goliath, easily over two meters tall.
But now, he was merely a ghost of the once-great captain who had commanded the mightiest ship in all of Astarax. His once-muscular frame had withered, and his powerful bones seemed fragile now, as if they might snap at the slightest strain.
Silence fell like a veil, and the once bright hall slowly became shrouded in darkness, as if bending to Lord Froti's presence. It was ominous, almost terrifying how even the shadows themselves seemed to be swallowed by the all-consuming gloom.
He might have looked like a frail old man teetering at death's door, but Froti was still a mighty Ascended, one with the blood of the Storm God flowing through his veins.
Amon had uncovered the truth after careful investigation, though it hadn't been easy. The guards were alert and numerous, especially after their group's arrival, making his search even more dangerous.
But that didn't matter now. He had succeeded and that was all that counted.
He also knew that powerful Ascended carried unique auras. Jet could turn the air ice-cold. Nephis could fill her surroundings with radiant brilliance. Sunny made the shadows deeper, denser, like they had weight.
And Froti… his presence shrouded the world in sinister, suffocating darkness.
Amon glanced at the young man on the throne with a smirk. It was as if the boy had a heart attack as he leapt from the seat, eyes wide with dread and disbelief, his body trembling as the light in the hall was devoured, inch by inch.
Lord Froti raised his head slowly. Though his body was weak, his dark eyes burned with such deep, seething fury that the boy visibly flinched. One by one, the candles around the chamber went out, smothered by the unnatural gloom. The only remaining light was a soft, gentle green glow emanating from Nika's hands as he channeled healing into Froti's frail form.
"You disappointed me… nephew," Froti said, his voice brittle, but layered with venom. "Poisoning me. Claiming the lord's seat. Ruining the economy and driving away our greatest sailors. I always hated that maggot Alekar… the filthy Usurper. Were you inspired by him?"
The brat stood frozen in place, still trembling, until desperation twisted into rage.
"Seize them! Quickly, I said, SEIZE THEM!"
The guards stood frozen for a moment, terrified and unsure, until one of them roared to summon what little courage he had and charged forward.
That was enough to ignite the spark in the others who had lived comfortably under a weak and pathetic ruler, growing complacent in their false sense of security.
But now they understood: for all their crimes, execution awaited them.
So what choice did they have… except to fight to the very end?
Fronti glanced at the guards, darkness spiraling around him like a vortex until Liparik stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a piercing look and nodding in reassurance.
"There's no need for the Q'hashap to concern himself with mere foot soldiers. Allow me, my lord."
Fronti regarded him silently as the darkness continued to creep toward the trembling guards, then gave a faint wave of his hand in acknowledgment and turned away, continuing toward the throne with Nika's help.
Liparik looked at the now-unfrozen guards. Sure, he didn't have a weapon at the moment but so what? His little student had used some trick to sneak in a pair of hidden blades and passed one to him earlier. That alone would be enough to butcher the sheep.
But suddenly, they all froze.
Fronti, Gray, Nika, Liparik… even the guards.
That bum... ahem, that usurper was gone.
Well, Amon thought, bros on fraud watch.
Now the guards grew even more desperate and started fighting with all their might. Well, their lord had ghosted them, so… brutal.
Meanwhile, the pathetic usurper kept running. There was a hidden passage leading out of the castle, a narrow tunnel that connected directly to the sea, and he was using it.
But first, he needed to collect all the treasures he'd stolen. What was the point of escaping if he couldn't live comfortably afterward?
He shoved the gates open, torch in hand, and stepped into the damp underground chamber, filled with gold, precious crystals, and soul shards.
All of it was already loaded onto the ship. The entire passageway connected the castle to the sea, everything had been prepared long ago, just in case he needed to flee.
The usurper stepped behind the wheel and infused essence into the ship's enhancements, already leaving everything behind.
A wide, villainous grin spread across his face as he threw his head back for a dramatic laugh straight out of a third-rate villain handbook. And at that exact moment, a sharp blade accidentally found its way into his neck.
"... Blegh!"
His eyes widened in disbelief and terror as he began choking, blood gurgling from his mouth and spilling down his chest.
Amon stood there, stunned.
"Bro... How?"
He hesitated, then slowly retracted the blade, staring down at the man with a startled look. The usurper, gasping for air, managed to force out a few final words.
"H-How… did you…"
Amon blinked rapidly, crouching beside him with a lost expression, as if he, too, was bewildered by the outcome.
"Dude, I ain't do shit. I was about to, sure but you threw your head back and… kinda offed yourself."
The Usurper's eyes, once filled with arrogant confidence, dimmed and turned hollow as he whispered:
"Shit…"
Amon scratched his head, baffled beyond belief.
"Yeah… that's tragic."
Staring down at the dead guy while completely lost for words, he muttered to himself, almost offended.
"How does someone accidentally kill themselves before I even get the chance? Seriously... what kind of bug is this?"
[You have slain an Awakened human. Name: Unknown.]
[You have received a Memory: Fraud's Bag]
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Wondering what the Transmigrator Trio looks like? Check the auxiliary chapter!
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