When the girl left the room, Amon began to think about Alexandra. It seemed he had gone too far when he shared his past with the mercenary, making himself appear in too favorable a light. Now the girl didn't leave his side. Her embarrassment and awkward advances could only mean one thing—growing affection.
On the one hand, this could cause problems in the future, since Amon intended to maintain his freedom of action. On the other hand, her loyalty couldn't be doubted. Alexandra would go through fire and water for him, fight not for money but for her feelings. Although, the girl had behaved strangely before.
For instance, she could have finished him off while he was unconscious and taken the money. Had he been in her place, Amon would have done just that. But she stayed and tried to help, to bandage his wound. A foolish act.
'I wonder how Alexandra would react if she realized that, for me, she is just a tool? A good one, comfortable in hand, but still—a tool that can be discarded when it no longer serves its purpose?' the sorcerer thought. 'The key is not to miss that moment. Otherwise, it will end up like with the captain.'
Amon stood by the window and looked outside. Meanwhile, faint footsteps could be heard in the corridor.
'Could she have forgotten something?' the Chaos Space Marine turned irritably.
The door opened, and the girl fluttered into the room, wrapped from head to toe in black fabric that concealed her face and body.
"What do you want?" Amon asked in surprise. "Leave. I don't need a woman for the night."
The girl didn't stop, confidently approaching the sorcerer with light, floating steps.
"I found you!" she exclaimed joyfully. "My first mission is complete!"
With each step, her clothes changed—the fabric at the bottom dissolved, revealing long, straight legs and a tail wrapped in silver chains. The material clung to her body, and the outlines of her chest, with sharp nipples in the center, became visible through it.
Now, the girl wore something resembling a monk's robe, but with a very revealing cut. The veil and scarf had disappeared. Amon was gazed at with adoration by a pretty girl with pointed ears, a slightly upturned nose, and rosy cheeks. Her slightly scratched face looked youthful, fresh, and every feature radiated sensuality.
"You," the sorcerer breathed out. He recognized the mamono he had saved. Only now, she was not covered in dirt and dust mixed with blood. The Chaos Space Marine wanted to call for help, but no sound escaped his mouth. It was as if an invisible, sticky mass had silenced him. Amon's legs buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor, knocking over the empty pitcher.
With the last of his strength, the sorcerer slowly drew his blade. He hopelessly raised the sword, pointing the tip at the girl.
"Don't be afraid, Dark Hero," the mamono said softly as she approached him. "SHE wants to talk to you. It won't hurt! On the contrary, it will be very pleasant!"
The girl easily deflected the sword and bent over Amon. Her hands gently wrapped around his shoulders, and her firm chest pressed against his face, filling the air with a sweet, intoxicating scent. The girl breathed heatedly into his ear, whispering unknown words, and the Space Marine fell into darkness.
***
Darkness embraced Amon with a motherly tenderness, and the sorcerer almost drifted off to sleep, lulled by the silence. The surrounding darkness was warm and soothing, like a soft down comforter. It enveloped his body, promising a long and pleasant rest.
Amon's mind resisted for only a short time; the Space Marine involuntarily gave in to the sweet bliss. The sorcerer was filled with a sense of calm and peace. No need to fight. No need to struggle, thinking ahead about every move. No need to watch intonation and subtle facial expressions, deceiving and twisting. He could relax his control and dissolve into the tender darkness.
It was like meditating with open eyes—the body relaxed, and the mind was on the edge of sleep and wakefulness. Worries faded, replaced by serene lightness and tranquility.
'Whatever this is,' Amon thought slowly, 'it's pleasant.'
He didn't know how long his drowsiness lasted. He simply felt his strength being restored, the energy taken by the mamono's magic returning to him. As Amon grew more energized, the darkness retreated. First, the sorcerer could make out the sky above, and then the ground.
The world around him brightened, turning from black to gray. But this time, it was a bit different—darker, gloomier, and stuffier. The sorcerer inhaled the stale air, thick and heavy like before a storm. He instinctively touched the ground, but his palm didn't meet the expected resistance. The surface was both solid, as if one could lie on it, and at the same time, ghostly.
"An illusion," Amon decided. "A convincing illusion. Probably. Although, last time I didn't pay attention to it. Could it have been this way? No, I'm almost sure it's an illusion."
He stood up and looked around. The lifeless gray plain stretched out to the horizon. Amon breathed in again. His sense of smell did not deceive him. He detected faint traces of a familiar scent. But now the sweet smell was far more aggressive, heavier, and lacking the gentle undertone.
'Evening. A hot agrarian world drowning in flowers. And thick air, suspended before a storm. Filled with a thousand scents,' passed through the sorcerer's mind. 'This is some kind of symbolism. But what would it mean?'
The answer came swiftly. For a split second, the space before Amon clouded over and was hidden behind a dark-gray veil. Before the sorcerer could blink, a girl emerged from it. Fallen Goddess.