He walked toward Flaw, pushed the debris aside, and helped him to his feet.
A part of me assumed Alter Egos were stronger than their masters, Amon thought. I was wrong. I need to be more careful next time. I cannot endanger Flaw's life along with my own. I cannot afford to assume.
He reflected on the battle in silence.
Although Flaw had been overwhelmed by the swarm of corruptions, there was not a single visible injury on his body. No wounds. No tears. No ripples of distortion that suggested lasting damage. If anything, he looked better than before.
That is strange. Does he have some kind of regeneration ability?
Amon focused on Flaw and spoke.
"Status."
At once, a bright window appeared before his eyes.
== << [| STATUS |] >> ==
Alter Ego: Flaw
Age: 0
Unique Aspect: Infinite Regeneration | Comprehension | Growth | ????????
Path: ???????
Dominion: ??????
State: Good
Realm: Mortal | Rank: F | Level: 2
== << [|------|] >> ==
"It is actually good," Amon murmured.
His gaze lingered on the listed aspects.
"Huh..."
There was far too much he still did not understand.
"We need to get going," Amon said at last, turning away.
Flaw moved beside him without a word.
Together, they crossed the bloodied corridors, stepping over fallen corpses as they searched the remaining rooms along the way. At last, they came upon a staircase tucked into the corner of the house.
The metal steps were rusted and cracked, groaning beneath even the slightest pressure. Amon's eyes flicked over each one warily, measuring their strength. Then he quickened his pace, skipping some steps entirely as he moved upward with cautious urgency.
As they climbed, his thoughts drifted briefly to his appearance.
These clothes are not suited for battle, he thought, glancing down at his bloodied robe. If changing clothes were as easy as changing Identities, I would have done it already. Perhaps when I return home, I should find something more fitting for this role.
Soon, they reached the second floor.
A row of doors stretched before them, each one hanging open. There were no chandeliers here, no sofas, no tables, no signs of comfort or habitation. Only silence remained, along with the stale, faintly fresh smell of death.
"Go into that room and search for anything that resembles a necklace," Amon commanded, pointing sharply toward the door at the far end of the corridor. "If you find anything, teleport to me immediately."
Flaw obeyed without hesitation, slipping soundlessly into the room Amon had indicated.
Amon exhaled.
A faint sigh escaped him.
"Alright... now it is time for me to do my part."
He brought his hands together in a precise writing gesture and traced words through the air:
I have a compass that leads me to whatever I seek.
Instantly, a black compass materialised in his palm. Its needle quivered for a single heartbeat, then swung with uncanny certainty toward the door in the middle of the row.
Amon's eyes narrowed.
The path had revealed itself.
A chill crept up his spine as he pushed the door open. The hinges shrieked at once, a sharp, jarring sound that sent a tremor through his nerves.
"Urgh... why did Val leave me, for God's sake?" he muttered, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders.
The candle drifted after him as he entered, casting weak light across the room.
It was unlike any other chamber he had seen in the house.
The floor was not made of wood or stone, but of hard, exposed soil. Runes, sigils, and strange markings had been carved deep into the ground, crossing over one another in deliberate patterns.
Then Amon saw what stood at the centre of it all.
And froze.
Seven skeletons were gathered around a circle.
The circle itself had been formed from dead flesh and the blood of animals. Its shape was uneven, yet deliberate, like the work of a mind that understood exactly what horror it wished to create.
At its centre were three overlapping eyes, each layered within the other, as though each one had been made to see a different truth.
Above and around them was a fused sigil of six wings.
Three on the right were angelic, white, and pure.
Three on the left were infernal, dark, and grim.
The symbol felt wrong to look at.
Not merely disturbing, but wrong in a way that made the mind recoil before it fully understood why.
Dots, runes, scars, and strange markings crawled across the circle's surface. Symbols and words that could not be comprehended had been etched deep into the ground. Three triangles were interlocked at its centre, pointing both inward and outward at once.
Around the circle lay blood.
Dark red, thick, and ancient, it saturated the ground with the memory of sacrifice. It pulsed faintly, as though remembering the lives it had consumed.
The seven skeletons stood veiled, their forms partially obscured, their presence heavy and unnatural. Golden crosses hung from their necks. Each radiated something different, seven colours, seven authorities, seven fragments of divinity.
Above them loomed structures shaped like crosses, towering and silent.
Upon each cross hung a skeleton, broken and offered, withered by time and nailed in place as though by fate itself.
These were neither sacrifices nor victims in the usual sense. They were something older, stranger, more unresolved. Their purpose felt incomplete, as though the meaning behind them had been left for another time.
The sight sent a chill down Amon's spine, and a sharp jolt ran through his nerves.
Damn. I cannot just stand here. I have a task to complete.
He forced himself to brush the feeling aside and began searching the room for anything that resembled a necklace.
He found nothing.
His eyes scanned the walls, the floor, the skeletons, the circle, the hanging remains, yet still there was nothing.
Just as hope began to drain from him, and he prepared himself to leave and face whatever horror waited in the next room, he saw it.
A necklace hung from one of the crosses.
Unlike the others, no skeleton had been nailed to a cross. Only a small chain rested there, bearing a central pendant, a glass casing filled with golden liquid.
Amon stretched out his hand and took the necklace from the cross fixed against the dim wall.
"It seems I have completed the task..."
A low growl answered him.
"Grrruurhrurhhhhhh!"
The skeletons began to tremble.
Their bones shook violently, rattling against themselves as cracks spread through the crosses behind them. One of them suddenly burst free and charged at him with a slender sword in hand, swinging it straight toward his head.
Amon instinctively stepped back.
"Inventory!"
A bright white cube flickered into existence before him, void-like and unstable, its shape shifting as though it had not fully decided what it was. Amon plunged his hand into it, seized his gun, and fired three rapid shots.
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
The skeleton jerked as the bullets struck. Then came the dull thud of impact, followed by the final clatter of bones collapsing across the floor.
The others began to shake more violently.
It was as though some unseen necromancer was trying to call them back into motion. Their bodies rattled uncontrollably until the crosses shattered apart, splintering into pieces, and then the skeletons lunged toward him.
They carried no weapons.
Only the raw, malicious intent to kill.
Amon widened the distance between them and raised his gun again.
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
He fired seven shots in rapid succession, each one aimed at the head.
The gunfire rang sharply through the room, followed by the heavy clatter of bones collapsing onto the floor.
Amon released a slow breath, then swept his gaze over the room to make sure none of them were about to rise again.
His eyes shifted to the remaining skeletons still gathered around the ritual circle.
They had not moved.
But he did not trust that.
He raised the gun and fired again.
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
Fourteen shots.
Each one aimed at the head and the heart.
I know they are not moving, but I need to be sure. I do not want them ganging up on me again.
Amon frowned, then lowered the gun.
Without another word, he turned and left the room. He shut the door firmly behind him and placed the weapon back into the white void cube.
"Flaw, come here," he commanded as soon as he reached the lower floor.
Immediately, Flaw appeared beside him, standing upon the bloodied carpet in silence.
"Inventory."
Amon placed both the necklace and the compass into the void-white cube. Then he and Flaw pushed open the gigantic black entrance doors and stepped outside, leaving the grim interior of the house behind.
They stood in the courtyard, surrounded by brown grass, small iron gates, and old graves half-swallowed by neglect.
Then suddenly, a figure appeared before them in a swift blur.
It was Val.