As soon as Amon spoke his truth, he quickly rebuked it and prayed for forgiveness. Leon, seeing this, smiled faintly.
"Come on, we need to go. We have revenge to fulfil, don't we?" he said in a low tone, patting Amon's shoulder lightly.
"Yes, indeed. Let us go," Amon responded.
I almost got caught with that one. A ritualist cannot believe in another god or Deity while belonging to an organization. No. I am a righteous ritualist, a man of GOD.
He smiled faintly and began to walk into the organization. The others followed him. Leon took his right side. Fe Yuan, scared, took his left but walked slightly slower. Arroz, Seraph, and Shingen followed behind.
"How on earth is this a ritualist organization?" Fe Yuan murmured in the lowest whisper to Amon.
Amon did not answer, nor did he return a smile or expression. Instead, he marvelled at the sight while thinking of the evil he intended to unleash upon it. An evil smile escaped his lips.
The interior resembled a god's dwelling. The floor was stone and granite, painted silver with a translucent glow. A red carpet stretched across the ground, and Amon and the others walked upon it.
Lit candles were fixed to the walls of the black castle, offering a faint glow within the already bright room. Paintings with white frames hung upon the walls. Some were black and white portraits, others were coloured. It was beautiful.
The ceiling was adorned with chandeliers, and styled runes and sigils decorated its surface.
The carpet, laid from the entrance at the centre of the hall, led to a spiralling staircase. It shimmered like diamond. Its railings were wrapped in delicate sheep fur, and its steps were crafted from refined gold.
It all gave off a peculiar scent, one that Leon distinctly remembered.
Suddenly, a man appeared before them, forcing them to regain their composure at once.
The man had pale white skin and dark brown eyes. Long golden hair flowed down to his back. He wore an expression of indifference and coldness, his gaze slightly dazed. He stood about six feet tall and wore a long, thick white garment that fell to his feet. A white cross hung around his neck. His hands were folded and raised to chest level, as if offering a greeting or giving thanks.
"I trust you are now part of the organization, seeing that you just came in through that door?" the man asked, giving a small bow.
"Yes," Amon replied. "These are my friends," he added as the rest stepped forward and stood beside him.
"Follow me," the man commanded.
He turned and began ascending the spiralling staircase of refined gold, sliding his hands along the railings wrapped in delicate sheep fur.
They followed behind him, their loud steps echoing faintly through the interior of the black castle.
"I feel like I have been here before…" Leon communicated inwardly to Amon as they climbed the staircase.
"Same, but I think it is because of the peculiar scent of the black castle. We simply need to dilute our noses with small amounts of Prismora. That would immediately make us forget the smell of the black castle," Amon responded inwardly.
"No, I truly feel like I have been here before. My soul keeps humming as I go up this damned staircase," Leon said. His inward tone was filled with annoyance.
Amon fell silent after that. He thought carefully about why Leon felt this way. Especially since he was experiencing the same sensation. He concluded that Leon's feelings were simply stronger than his. After all, he had learned to shut such sensations off from time to time, and this was one of those times.
As they ascended the spiralling staircase, the man walking ahead of them would frequently turn his head to stare at Leon. Each time, his eyes were closed and a long smile stretched across his face. It made Leon suspicious of the man and even more convinced that the feeling within him was not without reason.
As soon as the man neared the top of the stairs, he took two more steps and paused. Amon, Leon, and the others immediately stopped as well when they saw him halt.
"What is it…" Amon began to ask, but the man resumed walking before he could finish.
He stepped into a hall located directly at the end of the staircase. Amon and the rest followed alertly, prepared to strike him down at the slightest sign of danger.
The halls were dark and steeped in mystery. Silence pressed in from every side. Their footsteps no longer echoed. Even their breathing and the steady beating of their hearts seemed swallowed by the void.
Then the corridor began to change.
They were walking straight, following the man ahead of them. Yet the direction subtly shifted. It felt as though they were descending. There were no stairs beneath their feet, no slope to tilt their balance, no sensation of sliding. They were simply walking forward, yet somehow, impossibly, they were going down.
"I feel like we have been going in circles, even though we are not," Leon observed inwardly to Amon. "I cannot see much, but it feels as if that man is watching us while not truly being there."
"No, we are not going in circles," Amon replied calmly. "Unlike you, I possess an ability that allows me to see clearly in the dark. There are countless paintings fixed to the walls. Each one depicts the same man and woman holding hands. And we are not looping back. This is an illusion. An illusion meant specifically for you."
Leon paused inwardly.
"I spoke to the others through internal communication," Amon continued. "They all mentioned the peculiar scent and admitted to feeling something similar, though not nearly as strongly as you. Their vision is limited, but they can still make out the paintings."
"What?"
"Leon," Amon asked thoughtfully, "were you perhaps born here? Or could you be a regressor? Or a transmigrator?"
Amon frowned slightly as he considered the possibilities.
If Leon had been born here, perhaps his early memories were lost, yet his soul still recognized the place. That could explain the humming sensation.
No. If he were a regressor, he would consciously recognize it. Memory would accompany the familiarity. His soul would not need to react on its own.
But if he were a transmigrator, it would be different. When entering this body, most of his previous memories could have been sealed away. The current Leon would not consciously know this place. Yet his soul would.
That would explain the humming.
Amon slowly arrived at his conclusion, understanding at last why Leon felt this way.
Leon, however, remained silent at the question and slowed his pace slightly behind Amon.
After what felt like a long descent through the impossible corridor, the man ahead came to a sudden stop.
He raised his left hand slightly.
At once, the hall began to brighten. The darkness thinned, retreating like mist under sunlight, until the entire corridor was fully illuminated.
"I can finally see," Fe Yuan muttered. "For a moment there, I thought I had gone half blind." He let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Leon's thoughts jolted.
"You can see?" he asked inwardly, panic slipping into his tone.
"Well, yes. The darkness obstructed my view, but I could still see enough to know what was around me. Then the man raised his hand, and the place brightened until everything became clear."
"…"
"Can you still not see?" Fe Yuan asked.
Before Leon could respond, a sudden sound echoed through the halls which in his view, were darkened.
Braraghgdsh!
Braraghgdsh!
Braraghgdsh!
A series of sudden sounds elapsed on each other until it became a resounding tune that made Leon and the others squint their eyes and cover their ears with a frown.
A mechanical door fell harshly on the ground, however it was straight and not it a flat position when it fell.
"What is that sound?" Leon inwardly asked Amon.
"It's the sound of a door, and I'm guessing you're asking me that because you still can't see. Am I right?" Amon inwardly asked in a low tone.
"Yes," Leon inwardly replied.
"Hush!" The man ahead of them commanded in a low but grim tone, his voice echoing across the halls. It sounded like the pain one would receive after committing a sin, a voice coarse and filled with heavy cries.
That single word sent a jolt through Amons nerves making him perplexed and panicked.
What?! The man can hear us. He asked himself panickily, How? Its internal communication, he shouldn't be able to hear us…
Leon and Fe yuan also felt a shiver crawl up their spines, they had the same thoughts, the same panicking expression and were extremely confused about how the man could have heard them, since they were speaking to each other using internal communication.
"Leon, did you hear that… that man, I think he can hear us even though we are using internal communication." Fe yuan spoke inwardly in a panicked tone, as if realising something forbidden.
"I did," Leon replied, panic rising further. "How can he hear us?" His inward words were mumbled and scattered.
Before any more questions could form, before any conclusion about what was happening could be reached, the man opened the door.
With a loud creak and screech, it slowly swung inward.
Then, in that same coarse voice heavy with restrained cries and saturated with pain, the man spoke again. His tone was deeper now, heavier, almost suffocating to hear.
"Come in."