Amon found himself in the space between dream and reality. An endless black void stretched in every direction, illuminated by a myriad of stars. Between those stars, countless threads of silver light wove themselves into a beautiful, incomprehensibly intricate web, shaping nexuses, constellations, and something far more profound.
Honestly, no novel's words could ever do justice to this kind of beauty. And he knew exactly what this was: the inner workings of the Nightmare Spell.
Weaver was a fucking genius.
Well, for now, there was nothing he could do. The Spell was still appraising his performance.
[You have received a Memory: Chameleon's Cloak]
[You have received a Memory: Armour Breaker]
[You have received a Memory: Jar of a Hundred Poisons]
[You have received a Memory: Carnivorous Rose]
[You have received a Memory: Plain Robes]
[You have received a Memory: Flag of Life]
Amon blinked rapidly… then let out a tired sigh, shaking his head in bitter disbelief. Only six Memories? Seriously?
The Amanises really had cursed him, huh?
What wrong had he even done to deserve this... Okay, never mind. Forget it.
Still… it was frustrating. Only six Memories after slaughtering hundreds... no, probably over a thousand humans?
How the hell did that make sense?
"Who cares," he spat, scowling in annoyance.
When the time comes...
He looked up at the myriad stars and the unfathomable, intricate web that stretched between them. And slowly, a pleasant smile crept across his face.
"I will parasitize you," he whispered.
"Spread my worms like a virus, hijack you... and then, Nightmare Spell..."
He paused, voice dripping with greed.
"...you will be mine."
But then he froze, cleared his throat, and coughed awkwardly into his fist. A shameless smile spread across his face.
"But before that... let's stay polite and not hold grudges, shall we?"
Even if the Spell had heard him, it chose not to respond. It had finished its appraisal.
Here in the void, its voice no longer sounded subtle or familiar. No... it felt as though the universe itself was speaking.
Amon yawned, his eyes half-lidded with fatigue. Climbing those kilometers-long stairs had drained him. Sure, his body had recovered, but the mental exhaustion still lingered, clinging to his mind like dust.
Then the voice rang out, vast and inescapable:
[Aspirant. Your trial is over.]
[The cowardly thief met a bizarre sorcerer who offered him a chance for great adventures. The thief agreed and alongside the sorcerer and a band of great warriors, they set out to reclaim the throne of a lost king.
Wandering through distant lands, the little thief uncovered the schemes of the head priest. He stole the runestone and, as if mocking the heavens itself, set fire to the Temple of the Sun, earning the vile name of Blasphemer.
Deceiving the Usurper, he uncovered the truth about the bedridden lord and overthrew the tyrant's rule, eventually killing him.
Together with the sorcerer, the thief rallied the mighty Horsemen of the West and summoned the fleet of Nepo, forging an alliance to help their king win the war that would decide the fate of the realm.
In a final act of defiance and cunning, the thief shattered the great dam that held back the river, drowning an entire army and destroying the enemy's fleet.
Thus, he proved that even the smallest person can change the entire course of history.]
Amon listened to the Spell's appraisal and coughed awkwardly, scratching his neck.
"Well… you don't have to flatter me like that. I almost blushed, heh."
[You have defeated 854 dormant humans. Names unknown.]
[You have defeated 329 awakened humans. Names unknown.]
[You have destroyed the Head Priest's prophecy and returned the realm to its rightful ruler.]
[You have achieved the impossible.]
[Final appraisal: Glorious. You truly are powerful, cunning… and terrifying.]
"...Pardon?"
Terrifying? In what world? He was just a thief! What the hell was so terrifying about him?
Powerful? Bro, I've been running from every damn fight!
Okay… maybe "cunning" was fair. He'd take that as a compliment.
[Dreamer Amon, receive your boon!]
Well, at least he wasn't an Aspirant anymore. Honestly, he was tired of this nightmare. He missed his dear wife and hot dog.
[You have been bestowed a True Name: The Blasphemer.]
Amon sniffed, wiping a tear from his eye with exaggerated joy.
"I'm finally living up to my na... wait, what?"
The Blasphemer? The audacity of the lady Spell!
He only burned one temple. And destroyed one god's statue. And… okay, maybe several temples got wrecked when he broke the dam... Shit.
[Your Aspect is ready to evolve. Evolve Aspect?]
Amon stood still for a while, eyes unfocused, staring into the distance with a flat, unimpressed expression.
"...What do you think I'm gonna say, no?" He snorted. "Yeah, go on, my lady."
[Awakened Aspect Charlatan is evolving…]
[New Aspect acquired.]
[Aspect Rank: Divine.]
He grinned, little smug.
"Well... reasonable development. Truly."
[Aspect Name: The Error.]
Amon wasn't all that surprised. Honestly, he kind of expected it.
Perks of being the protagonist of his era, he supposed.
Now he was mostly wondering if Medici ended up with Red Priest too.
Still… what Amon was really curious about was Luna's Aspect.
Wonder what she got…
Aspect: [The Error].
Aspect Rank: Divine.
Aspect Description: [The time takes everything away; your identity, your history, your destiny. Everything that you are, were or will be, is eventually swallowed by time. The time is deceitful and strange, the unfathomable bringer of Entropy, the Error Of Universe. At the end, it claims everything and offers it to the Lord.]
Innate Ability: [Unknown]
Ability Description:[???]
Huh… Unknown? That… wasn't normal.
Amon narrowed his eyes, frowning slightly. The Spell only labeled things as Unknown when it outright refused to translate them… or when it genuinely didn't know what they were.
His Aspect had nothing to do with the Forgotten God. So that left only one possibility.
The Spell doesn't know what my innate ability is.
That was… rare. Concerning, even. And somehow, oddly exciting.
But that wasn't the end of it.
The Aspect's description... it was strange. Disturbing, even. Amon had read Lord of the Mysteries, of course. He knew the "Error" Pathway. But never, not once, had he interpreted it quite like this.
It stunned him. For a moment, he simply stared at the words.
Entropy?
That wasn't how he understood Error. Not before. So it wasn't...
No, it makes sense. In some twisted, unsettling way… it really does.
Meanwhile, Spell continued rewarding him based on his achievements.
[The First Seal is broken.]
[Awakening dormant powers…]
Amon felt something waking up from deep, within him. He clutched his chest with frown, trying to understand the strange feeling. The feeling was not painful or unpleasant, yet it was like nothing he had ever experienced. It was as though his soul was being shaken awake, infused with strange new energy.
Naturally, energy did not come from outside but rather it was coming from within, as if something that was slumbering in his soul for all his life was waking up.
The energy filled every fiber of his being. Amon felt his emotions becoming clearer and sharper. Then, his body began to change, too. He felt as though a miniature star was burning in the center of his chest: waves of heat were radiating from it, slowly reaching his stomach and shoulders, then his arms and legs, then his hands and feet.
Under that heat, his bones, muscles, organs and blood vessels were being rebuilt and revitalized. Amon felt like he was being reborn. He was becoming stronger, faster, healthier.
With each second, his transformation deepened. It felt fantastic, really. So damn good that, for a fleeting moment, Amon genuinely believed he was unbeatable.
That thought didn't last.
His ever-paranoid, ever-cowardly heart laughed in his face. Unbeatable? Please.
Power alone didn't mean a thing. Not without wit, not without adaptability. He had learned that in the nightmare.
Think outside the box?
Screw that. Toss the whole damned box into a fire and dance around the ashes.
After some time had passed, the star burning in his chest finally cooled down. The heat was replaced with a soothing coldness. That coldness washed over Amon's body, taking away all the aches and discomforts that had been accumulated there over the years. Then it moved up, reaching his brain and, finally, his eyes.
He could still see the void populated by an endless pattern of stars. But he could also see something different.
Now, Amon was standing in completely different realm. He was stunned for a moment as he watched the beautiful sight.
He stood atop a boundless plane of overlapping mechanical clocks, all suspended in the void. Each one bore roman numerals etched into golden metal, their dials gleaming faintly in the dark.
Cogs, gears, and massive rings surrounded him, semi-transparent and illusory. Layered like a cascade of timelines, interlocking and endless. Amon stared in fascination, eyes darting across the chaos, trying to make sense of the impossible arrangement.
Then the clocks began to shift.
Everything rotated, jittered, and spiraled in erratic ways that made his head spin. Time itself twisted; sometimes flowing backward, sometimes forward, sometimes halting entirely. Before he could even take a step, he was already somewhere else. Before he thought to look up, his eyes were already locked on his soul core.
And it was bizarre.
His soul sea was glitching like a corrupted simulation. The sky above it had shattered into jagged shards, suspended in place like broken glass mid-fall. Pale gray mist curled at the edges of everything, swallowing detail and making the whole place feel... haunted.
It was eerie. Unnatural. As if the laws of reality had been tossed into a blender, where logic meant nothing and error was the new normal. Perfection had no place here. Only flaws, fractures, and instability.
Okaaay… My soul sea is a bit scary, sure but it's beautiful too. That counts for something, right? I mean, it looks cool, so it's fine.
The Spell's voice suddenly tore him out of the Sea of Soul.
[Awakening Aspect Ability…]
Finally… Let's get this over with. I miss the taste of ratatouille.
[Aspect Ability acquired.]
[Aspect Ability Name: Theft.]
Well… not that surprising, honestly. Theft was the core skill of the Error Pathway, after all.
He sighed and decided to take a look at his runes but then, pain hit him.
It was sudden, unrelenting and blinding.
Agony he'd never known. Agony he couldn't even imagine.
He fell through the starlit void, collapsing with strained, tortured screams tearing from his throat. It felt like something was burning deep inside his very soul, a fire that refused to be quenched.
Amon never liked pain. So, overwhelmed by shock, he lost consciousness. Embarrassing, but honestly… understandable.
Few minutes passed since his transformation ended before his eyes snapped open. He yelped, startled, breathing hard and clutching his chest. For a long moment, he just lay there motionless and then he vomited.
"Bleghr… S-sorry, Spell… I ain't built for this shit."
Name: Amon.
True Name: The Blasphemer.
Rank: Dreamer.
Class: Monster
Soul Core: Dormant.
Soul Fragments: [636/2000].
He let out a sigh of relief when he saw his runes still intact. Good. He was already a monster, that much was clear. No one else could've pulled off what he just did.
But what really brought him comfort wasn't just the title of "monster." It was the fact that he had a soul core.
Sure, it was normal, almost everyone had one, but it came with undeniable advantages.
Sunny's shadow core might look flashy, but it wasn't efficient. The guy needed nearly a decade just to saturate all his cores. Meanwhile, Mordret and Nephis had managed to saturate their seven cores within a year or two. That alone said plenty about how superior soul cores were.
Yes, Amon had killed over a thousand humans. But most of them were mundane, without soul cores, meaning he only gained a single soul fragment from each. From the three hundred or so Awakened he'd taken down, though? He had harvested nearly as many fragments as from eight hundred ordinary humans. And most of them hadn't even fully saturated their own cores yet.
All in all, he was satisfied. Having a soul core was a massive advantage.
...Still, his own soul core was odd. It kept glitching for some reason.
Amon sighed, dragging a hand over his face.
"Yeah… mystery for another time."
Memories: [Chameleon's Cloak], [Armour Breaker], [Jar of a Hundred Poisons], [Carnivorous Rose], [Plain Robes], [Flag of Life], [Hidden Blades], [Hawk's Eye], [Hearth], [Fraud's Bag].
Echoes: —
Attributes: [Uniqueness of Error], [Liar], [Superior Observation], [Marauder].
Aspect Abilities: [Theft].
Aspect Ability Description:[You can steal mystical materials].
"Spell... You're fucking disappointment."
Just mystical materials? What the hell did that even mean? Sure, Amon had theories he still needed to test, but he'd expected more, something game-breaking. Stealing Abilities right off the bat, at the very least.
Wasn't this a little too weak for a Divine Aspect? How the hell did that make sense?
He scowled, but before his thoughts could spiral further, the Spell's voice echoed through the black void:
[All power has a price.]
[You have received a Flaw.]
[Your Flaw is: …]
Amon massaged the back of his neck, unimpressed. He wasn't sure if it was because his Aspect specialized in exploiting loopholes and manifesting errors, but the concept of flaws just didn't bother him.
What could they even throw at him that he couldn't bend or twist to his favor?
"Eh. Napoleon... guess there's nothing we can do," he muttered to himself.
It was strange though. He was about to be cursed and didn't really care but a minor ache, a stubbed toe, or a paper cut? That could piss him off for an entire day.
Flaw: [Blasphemer's Gambit].
Flaw Description: [You trace the edges of a truth better left unseen.]
"Pardon?"
He blinked, a little confused. "You trace..." What was that supposed to mean?
Hmm... How curious. He scratched his chin, a glint of interest sparking in his eyes.
"I'll have to experiment with it."
[Wake up, Blasphemer!]