Edward instantly put on a look of panic. "Magnify—no parasitism allowed here."
"No need to waste your efforts."
Coward—or rather, Amon—adjusted His iconic monocle.
"Last time, I let you slip away. This time, however—"
Before He could finish, Edward vanished without a trace.
The smile on Amon's face froze for a heartbeat before curling back up. "Interesting."
He reached out with one hand, and the world around Him shattered like a fragile dream. The house, once "rebooted" into pristine form, collapsed again into rubble. Amon now stood amid the ruins, speaking toward a half-fallen wall.
"Well done. A fraud indeed—I, Amon, acknowledge you as the strongest fraud beneath myself."
He strolled leisurely through the wreckage, curiosity flickering in His eyes. "An illusion conjured by a Trickmaster? To think it could fool even my sight?"
Suddenly, He paused in surprise. "Hm? Theft, teleportation, and illusions? You've already dabbled in three pathways' powers. You're quite the little 'Mysteries,' aren't you?"
His footsteps halted. "Forget it. I'll spare you again. Let's look forward to our next meeting."
With that, Amon disappeared.
Silence returned to the ruins.
More than ten minutes later, Amon reappeared—this time dressed in a black classical robe, monocle glinting as He stroked His chin in thought.
"So…did you really escape?"
The monocle shimmered faintly. Countless obscure symbols floated across its lens as He tried to unravel the scene before Him. Yet the conclusion was clear—this was no illusion.
"Then why do I feel…you're still here? Did you deliberately leave me with a false impression, or is this yet another layer of fraud?"
He smirked. "Ah, if you swallowed a Swindler potion right now, I'm sure it would melt in your mouth like sugar."
Amon circled the ruins slowly.
"Have you considered switching to the Error pathway? You could become an angel under my command."
He suddenly whipped His head around, extending His right hand with a grin. "Found you."
He held the posture for a full minute.
Amon finally drooped His head in mock defeat. "You know, if in a game one side just sits there doing nothing while the other keeps guessing and moving…it gets terribly boring."
"Still, this trick of yours is fascinating. If I could learn it, I'd swindle others with far greater ease. Want to teach it to me? I'll let you go this time."
"From what I know, at least a Sequence 1 Attendant of Mysteries would be required to craft illusions even I can't see through. Whose ability did you record this from?"
"Lil Zaratul? No, He should still only be a Miracle Invoker. Then it must have been Antigonus. But He should still be insane—how did you persuade Him to help you record an ability?"
"Could it be He has regained sanity? Or do you possess some special method of countering derangement and madness?"
Amon rambled on endlessly, like an actor absorbed in a one-man performance.
But Edward understood all too well: Amon likely had confirmed through some method that he had not truly left.
Yes—what Edward had reversed through Madman to the Right was an extreme strengthening of False Reality, so potent it could deceive even Amon's sight.
But such fraud only tricked His eyes and spirituality; it could not deceive the instincts of an ancient "Fraudster." That was why Edward's original plan of slipping away collapsed entirely.
It wasn't that Edward refused to attempt a stronger "reversal." Rather, he had to consider the negative consequences. For example, if he "reversed" lightning to directly kill Amon, the next second might see Amon's true body descending in person.
For now, the only option was to stack False Reality in nested layers—layer upon layer, thick enough and deep enough—before sneaking away quietly.
"You're only Sequence 4. Your spirituality is abundant, but not limitless. I may also be Sequence 4, but I just devoured a descendant of the Jacob family and that witch. My condition is several times better than yours."
"Your spirituality will burn out long before mine does. By then, you'll have no chance to escape."
"Wouldn't it be better to gamble now? Maybe, just maybe—you'd get away."
But the fact that you're the one saying it—that's the problem.
Could it be that Amon deliberately tossed out the "correct answer," just to make him second-guess, to make him assume it was fraud—and thus drag things into a stalemate?
But then again, it could also be…I anticipated that you anticipated me.
"You know…why I could so accurately find the Jacob decendent…and then so accurately find you?"
Amon's lips curved in a faint smile. "Because…from the very beginning, you were nothing more than the bargaining chip someone handed me."
He clicked his tongue.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk…You coveted someone else's reward, yet in return, someone else has fixed their eyes on your life. That is the price of greed. How many generations has the Jacob family lived through, and still they've learned nothing? Timid as mice, and yet, in the end, unable to resist greed—just like that old ancestor of theirs."
"Are you curious?" His voice dropped lower, drawing out the words. "Curious about what that fellow who commissioned you—ah yes, you call Him 'Intis'—was really trying to do with this little arrangement?"
Amon leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Let me whisper it to you—what He actually wanted was—"
Before he could finish, he suddenly stretched out his hand and tore at the air. The space before him split open like a curtain, revealing what had been hidden behind the ruins—inside the perfectly restored villa, Edward was in the middle of opening a Traveler's Door, stepping through to escape.
Unhurried, Amon reached out again. Instantly, Edward, who had just passed into the portal, was yanked backwards, sucked straight into His grasp—and turned into a lump of stone.
But in the very next instant, the entire scene shattered. No—at that moment, even Amon couldn't tell whether what He saw was reality or illusion.
Dozens—hundreds—of "Edwards" erupted forth like a fountain, rushing in all directions. One after another, teleportation doors flared open, and they dove through recklessly.
The patterns in Amon's monocle flared, cracking apart the portals one by one, dissolving them almost as quickly as they appeared. Yet…each figure that fled was real.
No—more precisely, they weren't illusions. They were all transfigured from stone, wood, and debris.
Just as Amon raised His hand again, a wave of weakness surged through His body. For the first time, He felt something utterly foreign—His level had dropped, inexplicably, to Sequence 5.
His hand slowly lowered. He merely stood there, silently watching as the hundreds of "Edwards" scattered beyond His sight.
A moment later, His power returned to Sequence 4. Now standing on the second floor of the villa, He smiled faintly.
"Well…you really did manage to deceive me. Interesting."
The moment Edward stepped out of the spirit world, he chained together a rapid series of blinks, landing in a heap of ruins. Only after layering [Space Concealment] and [False Reality] did he finally dare to pause and breathe.
A gold coin spun into the air. Did Amon follow me?
Only then did the tight knot in his chest ease slightly. Follow current novᴇls on NovєlFіre.net
Edward lifted his gaze. "Didn't expect to end up here…"
It was true. His landing point had been wholly unexpected. Out of the dozens—hundreds—of teleportation gates just now, most had been conjured by False Reality, but some were real, opened at random purely to confuse Amon's judgment. He had then dove headlong into one of them without checking the destination, blindly charging through until he stumbled out here—into the Battlefield of Gods.
"But what Amon said just now…was that truth, or yet another fraud?"
Edward's face darkened at the thought of what Amon had revealed about "Intis." If the statement wasn't a lie, then it was almost certain: the map to Amon's ruins that "Intis" had given him earlier had been intentional. He must have had dealings with Amon from the very beginning.
"Well, that makes sense," Edward murmured.
Back then, he had wondered why "Intis" would deliberately trick him. Setting aside the possibility that He was simply an agent of chaos, most high-sequence Beyonders never acted without purpose. They always had a reason. What he couldn't figure out before now fit perfectly.
"Coward…most likely really was sacrificed." Edward sighed. "He guarded himself for so long, refusing to strike any deals, only to give in once—and that was enough to ruin him."
The descendants of the Jacob family really had been swindled miserably by Amon.
Though…it was still better than Pallez. At least they had descendants.
"…I wonder what the situation in Trier is like right now."
For a moment, Edward hesitated. He didn't know whether to hope "Intis's" commission had succeeded or failed. If it succeeded, then regardless of whether "Intis" had plotted to trade him to Amon, the promised Wanderer Beyonder characteristic would have to be handed over—after all, it had received the Russian Priest's blessing, and there was no way to renege.
But if it truly succeeded…Edward would be very unhappy.
"…Better to go back first. Watch and wait."
After a brief thought, he shifted into Mr. F's appearance and prepared to return to the Aurora Order's base. He stepped forward, reentering the spirit world, flashing rapidly through its dense, oil-painted landscape.
Then, all at once, his spirituality jolted violently. Every cell in his body seemed to scream a single message: Danger!
Amon caught up?! Edward's heart lurched. He spun around, panic flashing in his eyes.
Instead of Amon, what he saw was a towering old man, with four pairs of vast, solemn wings fanning out behind his back. The man's gaze burned like lightning, locked unerringly on him.
Before Edward could even process, the old man's voice rang cold and sharp, "This place forbids spirit world traversal."
Almost instantly, an overwhelming pressure forced Edward out of the spirit world, hurling him back into reality.
A salty, damp sea breeze slammed into his face. He was surrounded on all sides by endless ocean. Overhead stretched a rift that seemed to pierce eternity, with torrents of seawater cascading endlessly from its heights.
Edward instantly recognised the location—the entrance to the Battlefield of Gods.
A sudden drop yawned beneath his feet. Without hesitation, he shifted into spirit form, hovering in midair.
He flung out his hand. A bolt of thunder infused with raw annihilation burst forth, a strike powerful enough to shatter heavens and earth. It lanced straight at the old man, who had just emerged from the spirit world.
But the man's form instantly dissolved into shadow, evading the thunder. He lifted his hand, and—to Edward's shock—stole away the next bolt as it formed, then hurled it back at him.
"…Another damn Amon?!"
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