"Truly, You are beyond expectations," Val said, making Amon and Flaw turn their backs to see him. "You bastard," Amon frowned, "you left us out to die!" he growled, pointing his finger at him.
"But look at you. You have grown stronger. Check your status window,' Val said with a warm smile, noticing the strange aura radiating from Amon."
Amon, though slightly reluctant, was eager to see how much he had grown since the battle. Hearing the words come out from Val's mouth only made him keener on checking it.
"Status,"
The same translucent bright window appeared before his eyes
== << [| STATUS |] >> ==
Name: Amon
Age: 17
Title: Gunman | The Dancer in an open field
Class: ?????
Talent: ??????
Unique Aspect: Ecliptience | ??????
Existence classification: ??????? Human
Dominion: ????????
Origin: Being
Physique: All That Was, Is, Will be
Paths: The ??????? | ?????? | ????? | ????? | ?????? | Writing | The ??????? | ????????? & ???????
Alter Ego: Flaw
Flaw: Inner Positivity and Outer Negativity
Powers: The Narrativity | ??? | ???? | ???? | ???? | ???? | ??? | ????
Realm: Mortal | Rank: FFF | Level: 3
== << [|---------|] >> ==
"It seems I've gotten stronger than before," murmured Amon, flexing his wrist. "Yes, you are correct. I am indeed stronger than before, though I still have a long way to go before I can reach you," He added.
"Indeed," Val murmured, letting out a small laugh.
"Let us get going. We need to report this incident to the Ancients and submit the necklace to them. Whatever this artifact is, for it to appear here means it does not belong to the Southern World and may be tied to the Endorian Empire. We also cannot afford the risk of others learning about our mission or our purpose for being here. This is a place where even the Sun holds little influence."
Amon frowned, bewilderment slipping into his voice.
"The Endorian Empire? Wasn't that the empire banished and wiped out from the Southern World hundreds of years ago?"
Val nodded.
"Indeed. Yet their legacies remain. Their disciples, the Endorians, and their descendants are still scattered across the Southern World."
Amon knew the Endorian Empire had been banished and wiped out, yet he understood little of their origins, the reasons behind their exile, or who they truly were. Most of what he knew came from his parents, fragments of knowledge rather than a complete history. Even so, he knew enough about the Southern World to sense the weight of what was being said.
Curiosity stirred within him, unsatisfied with the answer he had been given.
"Who are the Endorians?" he asked. "Why were they banished and wiped out?"
Val stayed silent.
Amon frowned at Val's sudden silence, then dismissed it just as quickly. Truths were never revealed by impatience. When the time came, they would surface on their own, guided and overseen by fate.
Val suddenly frowned as he noticed the entity beside Amon. What on earth is that disastrous presence? A glitching, formless aura of black, grey, and white bled from Flaw, unstable and wrong. How was this boy able to acquire an Alter Ego like that? he wondered.
"Come on. We're heading back to the Temple," Val said, already turning away.
Outside, the same carriage from earlier waited in silence, its presence unchanged, as if it had never left.
"Go back," Amon commanded softly.
Flaw responded at once, its form dissolving into flickering, formless glitches before vanishing without a sound, leaving the air faintly distorted where it had stood.
Amon walked forward in quite steps and entered the carriage, settling inside as Val followed. With a muted creak, the doors closed. The carriage lurched into motion, and the world beyond the windows blurred and bent.
They were already on their way back to the Temple.
| Temple |
The carriage came to a halt at the temple gate. Amon and Val stepped down, their feet touching the ground. Amon looked up at the sun, a faint smile crossing his face. "At least the sun still reigns over this land."
"State your purpose, and who you are!" one of the guards commanded.
Where's the man from earlier? Amon thought inwardly, mildly irritated. He had planned to see him again, especially now that the opportunity had been presented, but the man was nowhere to be found.
Amon extended his hand, letting his robe slide back to reveal the sigil on his wrist. The guards froze in shock.
"We greet the Eriths!" they shouted in unison, bowing their heads.
So, this symbol holds a great deal of meaning and power. Amon smiled faintly.
Val stepped forward, about to introduce himself.
"You need not reveal yourself to lowly beings such as us," one of the guards said, bowing deeply. Seeing the sigil of the Eriths on Amon's hand alone had filled them with reverence. Seeing Val Erith, son of the Erith and head of the Awakeners, shocked them even further.
Val smiled at their reaction and tossed two golden ingots into the air. Both guards caught them instinctively. "We thank the Head for granting us such a blessing," they said, bowing even deeper.
"Come on, we need to report," Val said, tilting his head forward to signal that they should move.
"Wait. I need to ask something," Amon said. "Have you seen a guard here? Brown hair, blue eyes, tall build."
"No, but I do remember him. His shift has already ended, so he has gone home. You might see him tomorrow. If you wish to meet him, he lives at 67 Adeel Close, in the Astralis Citadel. It is not far from here, in the Valereith Citadel."
The guard paused, then added, "Also, his name is Vell."
He raised his head slightly and gave a small bow, handing Amon a folded paper. Written on it were an address and a telephone number.
"Thank you," Amon smiled, "It is much appreciated!" he said as he tucked the paper into a small pocket in his robe.
The guards opened the gates for them, letting them in. "Thank you for your kindness!" They said, as Amon and Val walked past them.
As they passed the other Awakeners scattered across the courtyard, Val mumbled in a low voice, "Murmurs, whispers, chatter. Voices rising and falling, blending into all kinds of harsh tones. Stay in that noise long enough and it starts to sound like a song. Just like lies. Hear the same lie often enough, and it begins to sound like the truth. And then… it becomes the truth."
"Huh, I didn't quite catch that." Amon spoke, leaning his head closer. "Don't worry about it." Val replied.
As they climbed the short staircase and pushed open the gigantic golden doors, Val snapped his fingers. The world around them melted and flipped, like pages turning in a book.
They stood upon a small, black circular platform in the Realm of the Ancients. Surrounding them were other circular platforms, each crowned with a throne. Constellations, clusters of bright stars, and drifting lights pulsed like a heartbeat at their arrival. A faint white-grey mist shimmered across the void, giving shape and identity to all things, as if the very air remembered them.