After Number 23 destroyed the laboratory that had taken his friend's life, he vanished from the ashes of that night and reappeared under the banner of the Empire. There, he was inducted as its newest Transcendent… a living weapon forged from science and tragedy.

His very existence was an anomaly. Unlike the naturally awakened Transcendents, whose powers bloomed through divine chance or personal enlightenment, Number 23's strength was the product of artificial engineering, refined through suffering and blood.

At first, his comrades viewed him with suspicion. To them, he was not a man, but a construct, a soulless imitation that had no right to wield the same power as they did. But all scepticism faded the day he stepped onto the battlefield for the first time.

When Number 23 fought, he moved with precision beyond human comprehension. His enemies never screamed, for they never had the chance. What began as a test mission ended as a massacre. From that day onward, none questioned his place within the Empire. As the years passed, his legend only grew. His strength evolved with age, his control over his transcendent energy becoming terrifyingly refined.

Dozens of enemy Transcendents fell under his blade during the Empire's campaigns, each death quick, clean, and devoid of emotion. His missions were exclusively against enemy Transcendents, ensuring he rarely shed civilian blood.

Yet even then, the few times he was unleashed upon cities or rebellions, the aftermath was always the same: silence.

Not a single survivor left to tell the tale.

The death of his friend had hollowed him out completely. Whatever warmth or compassion he once possessed had long since died within that laboratory. In its place was something colder… an unfeeling void that knew only obedience and efficiency. He fought not for the Empire's ideals, but because it gave him purpose.

A reason to keep moving.

A reason to kill.

On the battlefield, he was unstoppable. His signature weapon, the black blade Nyx, was said to drink the light itself, leaving only moonlit corpses in its wake. Those who stood before him claimed his presence was suffocating, as though the air itself bent to his will. Mercy did not exist in his world; hesitation was death.

By the time he was eighteen, titles began to cling to him like shadows. The Grim Reaper. The Empire's Hunting Dog. Each name carried the echo of terror. But among all of them, one stood above the rest—a name whispered both in awe and in dread.

The Lunar Blade.

All this time, Number 23 could execute his duties… his inhumane missions… because his heart itself had been sealed. All of his emotions were subdued, and his mind was more machine than human.

But now… as his soul became Amon Solaris… he reflected on the misdeeds he committed, the crimes against humanity… and Number 23… now, Amon… couldn't bear to shoulder the burden.

"P-Please spare me! At least my children!"

Scenes of when Number 23 was tasked to eliminate a village because a Transcendent's family was suspected of being hidden there played within his mind.

"You monster! How can you massacre an entire country?!"

The memory of when the Empire took down an entire country, mainly using its overwhelming strength to defeat their squad of elite Transcedents, played back in his mind.

"D-Don't do this… Haven't you sinned enough?"

Bit by bit, the memories of those he killed resurfaced. But rather than looking at them with cold blood, Amon now felt the emotions he'd sealed rushing into his mind. His heart winced, and the guilt of his sins weighed heavily on his soul.

It was unclear if the voices were his or from his victims.

And then… the final day.

"Lunar Blade… Your existence threatens the balance of mankind. The only reason your country won the Great War was because of your dominance. And you're still so young. If we leave you be, in a few decades, your country will rule the world, and the rest of us will suffer as your vassal states. For the sake of our planet, we must eliminate you."

The night of his death… it was raining.

Led by Titus the Pyromancer, a thousand Transcendents had ambushed him. Their strength was enough to topple the Empire on their own, but they gathered here just to deal with Number 23… the Lunar Blade.

"My wife… Angelica. She died by your sword."

"... You don't even remember her face, do you?"

Titus's words rang in Amon's mind once more. This time, because of the memories that surfaced, Amon could clearly remember the woman whom he had brutally killed. Albeit, they were orders from the Empire, but still… Amon could remember the fateful day.

The woman who cried for her husband.

Her lifeless body was bleeding as Nyx stabbed her heart.

Everything was now coming to Amon's mind.

"Do you remember my father?! He was innocent, and you beheaded him in cold blood!"

"You monster! You split my sister in two!"

"My son!!!"

All of the memories were coming to him… the guilt, incomparable.

And the worst part was… Amon was forced to relive those instances repeatedly.

Caught in the loop of guilt, Number 23… no, Amon was feeling emotions he'd never experienced before. The Pope of the Utopia Church had unlocked the seal on his mind, unleashing the floodgate of negativity and pain.

As it turned out… Amon wasn't defeated by a formidable foe or an executive of the Demon Cult.

No.

He was defeated… by his own past.

❖❖❖

Yue sat silently beside Amon, not daring to move an inch. The night had long passed, yet she hadn't closed her eyes once. Every moment was spent pouring her mana into him, weaving healing spells again and again, but no matter how much power she used, Amon showed no sign of recovery.

His wounds weren't of the flesh; they lay buried deep within his mind. And that was a battle only he could fight.

Still, Yue refused to leave him.

She couldn't.

Amon wasn't just her lover—he was her entire world.

If everything else turned to ash, she wouldn't care. As long as Amon remained by her side, she could endure anything. That was why, ever since her regression, Yue had vowed never to leave him again. Even when fate forced them apart, she always left a fragment of her mana by his side, a silent promise, a tether that allowed her to return to him at a moment's notice.

Now, as he lay motionless in front of her, his breathing shallow and his spirit adrift, Yue's resolve only hardened. The world beyond these walls could crumble; the capital itself could burn to the ground. None of it mattered because Yue would not move.

Not while Amon still needed her.

But of course, as the second-in-command of Eldorin, she couldn't let the Demon Cult continue with their nefarious deeds. Although she had spent the night treating Amon, she was never idle. She had sown seeds just for a moment like this, and now… it was finally time to reap the rewards.

"I'm surprised… To think that there's someone capable of doing this to that young lad."

The Sword Saint stood solemnly at the corner of the room as he saw Amon's forehead drip with sweat. Even when fighting against Abomination and the Prophet, the Sword Saint couldn't recall Amon facing any sort of trouble. Yet, he was reduced to this weakened state just by a mere cleric?

"..."

Bawi, the Sword Saint's granddaughter, knelt next to Yue, concern apparent on her face.

"Will he recover?"

Leon, the Hero of this generation, held the same concerns. Beside him was his mother, Aluria, the current Ocean Goddess. Not only that, there was Carmen Solaris, the Commander of the Black Dragon Order, and Gallahad Solaris, the Commander of the Golden Dragon Order.

"My grandson-in-law sure knows how to make people worry…"

Yugor Elune, the former head of the Elune House and Yue's grandfather, similarly showed signs of worry while Yue treated her lover.

Over the night, Yue had teleported all of these powerhouses to Zephys. Just a single one of them could shift the balance of a battle, and yet, all of them had gathered here at Yue's urgent request.

Well, they weren't just here because of Yue.

"Amon will be fine… I have full faith in him."

Yue spoke with utmost confidence. Although this was the weakest Yue had ever seen Amon, her faith in the man never wavered once. After all, he was Amon the Great—the man who stood at the end of humanity as its final protector.

"But, I will stay here and guard him while he recovers. In that time, the Demon Cult will definitely do something big. We have credible intelligence that they're attempting to bring chaos to the capital, but we don't have a concrete idea of what they're planning. Still… There's no question that they will act when Amon is in this state."

"Those sinister bastards… They're finally showing their claws!"

Leon cursed with gritted teeth.

"So… While I'm protecting Amon… please deal with the Demon Cult."

The Sword Saint. Two Solaris Knight Order Commanders. The former Elune Head. The Ocean Goddess. And finally… The Hero.

All of them nodded and adhered to Yue's cold and resolute orders.

But the next scene they witnessed left them shocked.

For Yue, who had concealed her true strength for so long, the time for restraint had passed. A suffocating pressure began to spread from her body, born from the sheer excess of mana surging within her. Eight radiant rings materialised around her, each one pulsing with divine brilliance. Dozens of Monarch-tier Spirits emerged, orbiting her in reverent silence—beings of immense power, now trembling in awe and fear of the one they served.

In that moment, Yue no longer seemed mortal. She was nature itself—its will, its fury, its boundless grace. The air trembled, reality warped, and the heavens seemed to bow before her presence. Even the mightiest figures—the Sword Saint, the Ocean Goddess—felt a chill of dread crawl down their spines as they witnessed the full grandeur of Yue's power… and the wrath that came with it.

"They will pay… for touching my Amon!"