Leaving the storage room, Amon made his way to the last door, a sense of finality weighing on his shoulders. Carefully opening it, he was met not with another cramped space, but with the breathtaking expanse of the night sky.
Walking outside, he breathed in the crisp, fresh air, a stark contrast to the stale atmosphere of the dungeon. He looked up at the brightly shining stars, distant and indifferent, a silent audience to his lonely existence.
Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Amon sighed, the sound swallowed by the vastness of the open grasslands before him.
As he walked in silence, the rhythmic crunch of his boots on the dry grass the only sound, he was lost in thought, contemplating his next steps and the uncertain future that stretched out like an endless, dark road.
While in the middle of this travel, his eyes shot open as the dense, coppery smell of blood hit his nose with the force of a physical blow. It was a scent he knew all too well, one that spoke of violence and death.
Looking in the distance, he saw the source: a village a few miles from him was engulfed in a terrifying orange glow, and even from this range, he could hear the faint, desperate screaming of its inhabitants.
Without a second thought, Amon drew upon the stored flesh within him, feeling it surge through his body and coalesce in his legs, strengthening every fiber and sinew. He began running toward the village at an incredible pace, the world blurring into streaks of dark green and brown.
As he got closer, the cacophony of screams and the overwhelming smell of blood grew worse, a symphony of suffering that painted a grim picture of what was happening. It was a horde of orcs, their brutish forms silhouetted against the flames, going on a savage raid.
Reaching the outskirts of the village, Amon's gaze locked onto a horrifying scene: a young girl, no older than ten, was being carried on the shoulder of a laughing orc, her small fists beating uselessly against its armored back.
Creating a spear of pure, solidified darkness, a weapon that seemed to drink the very light around it, Amon threw it with all his augmented strength. Leaving his hand, the spear didn't just fly; it traveled faster than anything the orc could react to.
Reaching it in the literal blink of an eye, the spear connected with the orc's head. There was no sound of impact, only a wet, explosive pop as the creature's head was vaporized entirely, leaving nothing but a cleanly severed neck and a spray of dark blood that misted the air. The headless corpse stood for a moment before collapsing, the girl falling with it.
[Lv.15 Orc Killed: +150 exp./+15 gold]
Rushing forward, Amon caught the falling girl who still had her eyes squeezed shut in terror.
"Don't worry, you're okay now," Amon spoke softly, his voice a low rumble that was surprisingly gentle as he carefully set the girl on her feet. O
pening her eyes to look up at the towering, shadow-wreathed figure of her savior, the girl's fear momentarily gave way to awe before she began crying again, this time in relief, and hugged his leg tightly.
"T-thank you!" the young girl cried, her voice muffled by his trousers.
"I... It's no problem," Amon replied, a strange warmth spreading through his chest as he heard someone thank him for the first time, a foreign but not unwelcome feeling.
"I'm sorry, but I need to help everyone else. Go hide and don't come out until I come find you," Amon said, his tone firm but kind as he gently guided the girl to a dense bush nestled against the side of a destroyed house.
"Wait, but there are so many of them," the girl pleaded, her eyes wide with fear.
"Don't worry, I will be okay," Amon said, forcing a small, reassuring smile that felt alien on his face.
Leaving the girl to her hiding spot, Amon went up to the orc corpse and, with a thought, placed it in his inventory, a grim harvest for later use.
Going deeper into the village, the full scale of the massacre revealed itself. It was a scene from a nightmare. Dozens of men, their weapons shattered, were being cut down where they stood.
Women were being dragged from their homes, their screams echoing through the night as they were violated by the laughing monsters. Small children were being rounded up and herded into crude iron cages, their faces streaked with tears and soot.
"Bastards... doing all of this with smiles on your faces," Amon growled, his eyes glowing with the cold, incandescent rage of a meteor entering the atmosphere. Using his plant magic, Amon connected his consciousness to all the tree roots within his range, feeling them like a network of nerves beneath the soil.
He utilized his growth skill, pouring his energy into them and commanding them to increase their size and strength tenfold. The ground suddenly erupted as thick, gnarled roots, like the grasping fingers of some angry earth god, shot out of the ground.
They wrapped around a group of orcs who were in the process of setting fire to another home, their surprised roars cut short as they were pulled screaming into the earth, vanishing beneath the soil without a trace.
x15[Level 15 Orc killed: +2250 exp/+225 gold]
x5[Level 16 Orcs killed: +800 exp/+80 gold]
As the rest of the horde, now numbering over thirty, saw their comrades disappear and turned their attention to Amon, charging at him with guttural roars of rage, he simply held out his hand. He released a wave of dense purple energy that crackled and hissed like arcane lightning.
"Shadows of the Void."
The energy shot out, not as a single bolt, but as a cluster of writhing, living lightning that tore through the orc ranks. It was a storm of pure annihilation, the darkness shredding flesh and bone, killing them one by one until only a few remained, those who were either lucky enough to be hiding behind something or quick enough to raise a shield.
x28[Level 15 Orc killed: +4200 exp/+420 gold]
x9[Level 16 Orcs killed: +1440 exp/+144 gold]
With five orcs remaining, their faces masks of terror and disbelief, Amon decided to make this personal. He created a spear not from darkness, but from his own flesh and strength, pouring every ounce of his will, every muscle and bone in his body, into its creation.
The weapon pulsed with a crimson light, a living extension of his fury. Before the orcs could even think to flee, he charged. Reaching the first one, Amon didn't just stab; he pierced the orc through the stomach, the spearhead exiting its back and leaving a giant, cauterized hole.
Kicking the convulsing corpse into another orc, he dashed to the left, his movements a blur of lethal grace. He jumped into the air, spinning and releasing a horizontal slash that decapitated two orcs at once, their heads flying into the night.
Landing silently on the floor, Amon looked back at the last two orcs who tried to run, but he didn't let them get far. With a stomp of his foot, the earth shook around them and tree roots, smaller this time, shot up to wrap around their ankles, holding them fast.
Slowly walking up to the struggling, terrified creatures, Amon released his amalgamation of flesh. A sickening wet sound filled the air as flesh, muscle, and bone erupted from his back, twisting and reforming.
The creature grew around him, a monstrous construct of sinew and teeth, until it towered over the village, its many eyes glowing with malevolent light. From within the heart of the beast, Amon looked down at the orcs.
"So many suffered because of you... Now you will know that same pain."
The amalgamation shot forward not like a lightning bolt, but like a wild dog, all primal hunger. Its many mouths opened wide and consumed the orcs bite by bite, letting them scream out in pure agony as they were eaten alive, their final moments an eternity of terror.
[New Skill: Muscle Strengthening[Lv.1]
As the horrifying creature seeped back into his body, the flesh retracting and his form returning to normal, Amon walked back into the village. He methodically placed all the orc corpses into his inventory, his expression grim and detached.
After storing the last one, Amon created large orbs of water from the moisture in the air and used them to douse the flames consuming the homes and fields around them. As he finished and was about to return to the girl, Amon turned around to see the few surviving villagers emerging from their hiding places.
They were helping the wounded, their movements slow and heavy with grief, and slowly forming a silent, awestruck crowd around him.
Standing at the forefront was an older woman with long, silver-gray hair, her face a map of wrinkles and sorrow. She bowed deeply, her voice trembling with emotion as she spoke.
"Thank you, young man... You saved the lives of all of us here and our home. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you."
Seeing the people bowing and thanking him, Amon did not know how to react, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions.