They now stood in the courtyard of the haunted house.
"Come on," Val said, extending his hand for Amon to follow. "We need to check whether there are any living beings here. We cannot afford assumptions. Assumptions are the slow, inevitable path to a man's death. There are no regrets, no chance to turn back and verify, once one is already dead. Certainty built on assumptions is indeed the mother of ignorance and foolishness."
Amon digested what Val had said and reflected on it, noting it down in his mind for future times. He met up with Val, and they now pushed upon the gigantic, black, grim doors of the haunted house.
The place was grim and dark, too dark for Amon to see anything. With a flick of Val's hand, a lit candle appeared, rested on thin air. With the candle lit up and the place now filled with dim light, they began to check their surroundings.
cobwebs filled the corners of the house, while mice, and other tiny insects crawled away on the ground from the dimmed sunlight. The windows were darkened and covered with grey, dusty curtains. Red sofas stood not far away from them, all surrounding a glass table. A large black Television was hung on the high walls, while chandeliers of dazzling beauty but no light were visible on the ceiling.
Not much occupied the space except for the cockroaches and rats, while mosquitoes flew around the room.
"Oh, dear it stinks in here!" Amon gasped.
"Yes, this the smell of erosion, the walls have already started to crack, and the rats have probably excreted here." Val said, pointing towards a mouse feeding on rotten cheese, and little poo at the corner of the room.
As they walked, Amon recalled what one of the thrones had said. 'Check your quests' the sentence still echoed in his head, he tried it out.
"Quests" He commanded.
Another window shimmered into being.
== << [| QUEST |] >> ==
Objective 1: Retrieve the sealed artifact and submit to the Ancients
Objective 2: Fight and kill all half-corrupted beings with no help.
Rewards: 1000 SWI | The power of Discerning |
== << [|---------|] >> ==
"So, this is what he meant, when he said check your quests." Amon spoke. What does it mean by all, and how many are there anyway? Fifty perhaps? No, hell no, let it be ten! Amon silently begged.
Before they could even begin to explore the house, a darkened being rose up from the ground. It had no face, no mouth, no ears, only eyes, and those eyes looked everywhere and nowhere, all of them on the darkened body.
Amon turned his head as if waiting for Val's lead, on the verge of asking what lay before them and what they were meant to do, only to realize Val was no longer there, gone without a sound.
Amon's expression shifted rapidly as he searched for a way to escape, his gaze sweeping across the room while his mind raced. He tilted his head slightly, scanning for hidden spaces, cracks, anything he might have missed, and when he turned back and saw the open door, a brief sense of relief crept in.
Then the door slammed shut.
"Shit!" Amon gasped, instinctively taking multiple steps back. Thankfully, the candle still burned bright allowing Amon to get a view of the disfigured, darkened being.
"Is that a corruption?" Amon couldn't help but shout out loud, drawing the beast's attention.
Yes, it is, now fight it! A voice suddenly echoed in his head.
Before Amon could even register the voice, or what it had said, the corruption lunged at him at blinding speed.
"Shit-" Amon growled, as he got hit in his abdomen, sending him flying to the walls. The wall shattered upon the hit, crumbling down on Amon's head.
"Urghh!" He stood up, pushing the debris away from his body. He checked his head to see if he was bleeding, and to his surprise he wasn't, not a single drop of blood had touched the floor, just the dirt, and dust attached to his skin.
Use your alter ego! The voice echoed again.
"Alter ego? -Yes, that's right, my alter egos is supposed to help me!" Amon said, a brief sense of relief washing over him, the panic of earlier eroded away upon hearing the semi-good news.
He closed his eyes as he focused sharply, picturing his Alter Ego and forcing it into existence. His expression hardened at the complexity of it, but he knew he had no time. Thinking, dreaming, imagining what it was, who it was, or indulging in some pointless historical reflection would cost him his life in less than a second.
So, he summoned it and called its name.
"Flaw!" Amon commanded, though a grave feeling told him it might not work. He had even forgotten the Alter Ego he once possessed, and so he renamed it, but the origin remained unchanged.
He opened his eyes, bracing himself for the consequences of his assumption but then-
A being appeared before him, facing the darkened figure. It was a being of formless glitches, of darkness and light, and all opposites etched into its existence. Its frame was slender, yet large, as if it could not be contained by a single shape. It was everything at once and nothing at all. It did not turn to Amon, yet it positioned itself in front of him, shielding him.
"It worked!" Amon exclaimed.
Immediately, the corruption lunged again, moving at faster speeds this time around. It swung its hand for a punch only for Flaw to block with ease. It churned the corruption's hand into messy liquid and grabbed its head and flung it away, making it crash to the floor with a deep thud. The house was even more in ruins now, with scattered rocks, and bricks falling to the ground.
The corruption didn't stand up. 'dead,' Amon assumed it to be.
Before Amon could thank, unsummon, or even register the victory, other Corruptions appeared in twisted forms, some had mouths but no eyes, ears but no mouths, eyes but no ears. All sorts of dishevelled beings appeared, all lunging at Amon the same time.
Amon staggered back but brushed his fear off. I need to be strong; I can't just rely on my Alter Ego to fight everything for me!
Indeed, you are right, but you are adapting… Once you adapt, everything will become easy… The voice in his head spoke.
Is that Val? Amon thought, No, it can't be. Val's voice is not that deep, and his voice is not crackly and filled with so much authority.
Amon brushed off the feeling and focused more on the situation at hand.
Flaw lunged again, grabbing both corruptions and swinging them around, but then another corruption lunged punching Flaw away. Multiple of corruptions lunged at Flaw, twisting their bodies into inhumane weapons, wielded by its companions, begin to cut it down and stab it.
"Shit! shit!", " What's my power!" Amon chocked on his voice, biting his finger. A bright ting hit his brain, as he suddenly remembered.
"Ah! Right.", "The only path I have with no question marks is Writing, and my power is the narratives…" "Wait, if my path of writing gives me the understanding, knowledge, and wisdom, the memory and all traits suited to writing, I can maximise that path with the Power of narratives which allow me to bring my Writings to a reality. Doesn't that mean I can edit my own reality?" He questioned himself, pondering on the complexity of his abilities.
BAM!
The sound alone, made Amon think quickly, his thinking sped up as his adaptation was increasing and his understanding.
After a few seconds, he had the answer to his problem. "I hope this works" he muttered.
He folded his hands, letting one index finger slip free, and wrote into the air: I have a gun with unlimited ammo and unlimited precision.
From that moment on, the Gunman was born.
A gun of gold and silver materialized in Amon's hand, a formless white aura swirling around it. The moment he gripped it, memories flooded his mind and heart with countless experiences of holding a gun, aiming, adopting stances and postures, mastering precision, and pulling the trigger. Every nuance, every motion, every detail of firing a gun was suddenly etched into him, as if he had lived a thousand lifetimes with the weapon.
"Urgh!" Amon growled, slightly massaging his head. Underneath his expression, he glistened with joy. Yes, it worked!
With that, he straightened his stance, letting the gun rest naturally in his hands. His grip was firm but fluid, his focus absolute. He aimed at one of the corruptions, its twisted form quivering in the dim light.
BAM!
The first shot tore through the air with a shrill whistle, striking the corruption with impossible precision. Its chest erupted in a spray of dark crimson, a jagged whole opened where dark flesh was meant to be. The creature collapsed with a heavy thud, limbs splaying unnaturally as a fetid stench rose from its broken body.
Amon didn't hesitate. Another corruption lunged, and his finger squeezed the trigger again. Bullets tore through the air, each one finding its mark. One pierced an arm; another shattered a jaw. The creatures recoiled, screeching and twisting, but they were no match for his uncanny accuracy.
With every passing second, Amon's speed increased. His movements were a blur. His breath controlled, eyes sharp, muscles in perfect synchronization. He fired in rapid bursts, timing each shot to strike the heart of every attacking corruption before it could reach him.
More series of BAM!s followed every second until the last corruption fell on the bloodied floor.
"Hah!" Amon released a sigh of relief.