Facing Amon's taunting words, Bethel didn't get angry. Instead, he curled his lips into a smile. "Sorry, you've got it wrong. No one ordered me. I chose to come here to beat you up."
Bethel's blue eyes locked onto Amon, his tone earnest. "Back in the Fourth Epoch, I wanted to do this, but I never got the chance."
Amon paused, though their expression showed no surprise. They knew full well how annoying they could be. Adjusting their monocle leisurely, Amon sighed with mock disappointment. "What a shame. I thought we were friends."
"We are." Bethel replied, catching Amon off guard. Smiling, he added, "But that doesn't stop me from wanting to thrash you. Also, save your tricks... I've already sealed this space. You're not escaping."
While chatting, Bethel had quietly activated his spatial authority.
"Heh, we'll see about that." Amon said, unfazed. Their monocle glinted, signaling some ability's activation. A shattering sound followed, and Amon's voice echoed, "Bethel, this isn't your era anymore."
Using their bug-like ability, Amon broke Bethel's spatial seal, reappearing a kilometer away in an instant.
"You're right." Bethel said calmly, a gemstone appearing in his hand. He gave Amon a half-smile. "Too bad I lied about that last bit."
The gem shattered, and Amon's expression shifted. A binding force surged within them... a sealing authority. Their aura plummeted to that of an ordinary Sequence 1, the monocle symbolizing the Maraudder Uniqueness dimming.
Amon realized Bethel's earlier taunts and spatial lock were a trap to bait them into using their bug ability, fulfilling the conditions for the seal. It was a simple ploy, but hard to dodge... if Amon hadn't broken the seal, they'd be trapped and beaten anyway.
"After all these years, I almost forgot how cunning you are, Bethel." Amon said, quickly regaining composure and giving a wistful remark.
Instead of fleeing again, Amon nonchalantly adjusted their clothes. "So, who else is here to beat me up? Come on out!"
As the words fell, a scorching heat flared behind Amon. Crimson flames formed a spear, aimed straight at their head, igniting their clothes. Amon barely dodged, twisting away just before the spear could pierce their skull. They swiped a hand to extinguish the flames and looked at the approaching figure. "After all this time, this is how you greet me, Medici?"
A rain of fire answered, accompanied by Medici's mocking voice. "This? It's not nearly enough!"
The fire rain fell, turning the area into a sea of flames. Amon's figure dissolved into ash within it.
Medici didn't look smug, though, squinting instead. "So vindictive! I only helped Adam kill you, and I wasn't even the mastermind. You're still holding a grudge?" Amon's aggrieved voice emerged from the flames, followed by a sigh. The fire vanished, only to reappear above Medici's head.
A silvery-white serpent's shadow flashed across the sky, freezing Amon's movements. The fire sea engulfed them again, and Amon, previously so composed, stumbled inexplicably.
"Ouroboros!" Amon snapped, instantly recognizing the newcomer. They glared at the Angel of Fate beside Medici, their usual nonchalance tinged with gritted teeth.
"It's the Lord's command." Ouroboros said coolly, meeting Amon's gaze. "The Lord wants to beat you." After a pause, he added, "Both Lords want to beat you."
Amon's mocking smile faltered at the first statement, but at Ouroboros's addition, their expression froze, eyes turning sharp. Even their usual poise cracked at the news that their father wanted to thrash them.
"Then let him come himself." Amon said after a few seconds of silence, their gaze piercing Bethel, who'd appeared nearby. "If The Ancient Sun God wants to discipline me, he can do it himself."
"Heh, you wish!" Alaric's voice cut in, laced with amusement. In his Lucifer guise, he stepped out from behind Bethel, standing side by side, smiling at Amon. "As if we'd let The Ancient Sun God beat you... you'd probably enjoy it too much. Everyone knows you're a hopeless daddy's boy!"
Amon adjusted their monocle, studying Alaric. Though his appearance differed from the memories of their Avatars, high-sequence beings didn't rely on faces. Amon knew this was the one who'd summoned The Ancient Sun God months ago, delivering a landslide of "fatherly love."
"It's you." Amon said, their thoughts unreadable. After a brief pause, they smiled. "I don't know what you're after, but instead of teaming up with these losers, how about a deal? Let me see my father, and you can name your price... anything."
"Sounds touching." Alaric said, his smile dripping with insincerity. "You're a brat, Amon, but your love for your father is real enough…"
***
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