"I-Intruder!!!"
Echoes of the cultists' cries resonated within the compact base, sending every single one of them into a heightened state of anxiety. Most of those stationed here weren't the elites of the cult, and only a select few had comprehensive battle experience. Hence, they weren't well-equipped to deal with such an unexpected crisis.
Not that it mattered to Amon.
Moving like a fish in water, Amon waltzed through the narrow corridor, swinging his sword effortlessly. With each slash he made, an entire cultist's body would be cleaved in half. Sometimes, they do it from the waist up, and other times, they do it straight down from their foreheads. The surviving cultists were gobsmacked by the scene they were witnessing.
One moment, their compatriots stood tall, ready to repel their intruder. The next moment, half of their bodies were cleanly cut through, leaving nothing but flesh and guts spilling out.
The scene was so gruesome that some cultists attempted to escape, which was a wise decision. But unfortunately, Amon wasn't in any state to render mercy. Those who turned their backs towards him instantly burst into a ball of flame. The heat was so intense that rocks began to melt, and the flames permeated into their organs in a split second, effectively cooking them alive and leaving no room for survival.
In a last-ditch attempt to survive, the remaining cultists rushed towards Amon with frantic movements, hoping to do some damage to the young teenager at least. But alas, Amon was simply two steps ahead of them.
His feet were light as if he were an ace ballerina performing on a sold-out stage. The movements were so swift that no cultists could follow Amon with their naked eyes. Some could vaguely sense his location, but before they could even react, Amon's blade sliced through their necks.
Realising that their opponent was too fast for them, one of the cultists made the intelligent move to cause the ceiling to fall above Amon, hoping to bury him with rocks and render him completely immobile. Unfortunately, that was a useless move as well. With one swing of his blade, an immense force pushed the falling rocks away, smashing into the person who made them fall in the first place.
And finally, with all their options exhausted, they attacked all at once, hoping to overwhelm the young man with a single, omnidirectional attack. Alas…
Whooooshhh!!!
Amon spun his blade around and, within milliseconds, escaped the cultists' bombardment, leaving them completely clueless about his mysterious movements. However, it didn't take them long to realise what Amon had done.
All of their weapons shattered into pieces. Some saw their compatriots' bodies severed cleanly, while others saw their world turn upside down as their heads rolled on the floor.
When it came to combat, three factors reigned supreme.
Speed, power and technique.
If one lacks the speed to keep up with their opponents, they can always rely on their power and technique, and the same could be said about the other two factors. Finding a swordsman who had trained in all three disciplines was difficult, and finding someone who excelled in them was even harder.
But Amon was one such rarity.
With his overwhelming speed, power and technique, Amon was easily the best fighter in the building. These cultists, who were mostly fanatics or ex-convicts, didn't stand a chance.
'Only three left.'
Amon thought to himself while wiping the blood off his sword. Only a few minutes had elapsed since he'd entered this base, and his blade had slain most of the cultists. Utilising his heightened senses, he could clearly make out the figures of three individuals in the final room. Much to his delight, they seemed to be standing still, as if they were patiently waiting for his arrival.
'At least they're not attempting to run.'
While it wouldn't be difficult for him to chase them down, it would take much more effort, especially if they chose to run in different directions. As powerful as he was, Amon couldn't clone himself or split his body into three parts. Having them grouped together was the ideal situation for him.
Hence, Amon confidently barged into the final chamber of the cultists' base with a firm spartan kick.
And the first thing he saw brought a silent chill to his core. Over a dozen dead bodies were placed on top of each other like a pyramid, forming a ritualistic ziggurat that was made with flesh and bones. Blood dripped down from the structure made out of human parts, dousing the deathly place in a putrid odour that could only be described as nauseating.
Among those dead bodies were vagrants of all ages—elderly, middle-aged, able-bodied and even children. The sick cultists didn't discriminate when it came to choosing their victims.
And finally, Amon's golden eyes dilated at the sight of the sinister idol planted in the middle of the ziggurat.
A Demonic symbol, one that thrives on death and suffering, was absorbing the human sacrifices like a famished beast. The sinister energy it emitted decayed all manner of life in Hyades, and the mana it produced was completely out of this world. The smell alone was enough to make a regular human hurl their guts, let alone the complete dissonance it produced just by existing.
Amon's eyebrows twitched slightly while he witnessed this scene, but he quickly regained his wits.
Why?
Because of the quick dual blader rushing towards him at an unbelievable speed.
There was no need for Amon to guess; it was likely a cultist who had trained extensively as an assassin. His speed and utilisation of the element of surprise were exemplary. He waited until Amon was completely distracted by the sacrificial site before coming in from the shadows. He may have landed a solid, clean hit if it were any other Solaris Knight.
But Amon wasn't any ordinary Knight.
Without even bothering to dodge, Amon swung his blade skywards in a counter-attack, taking full advantage of the opening the assassin gave. Amon's sword sliced through the cultist's body, creating a singular line of blood and flesh from his abdomen to his neck.
In a single strike, he dispatched the fanatic and kicked the dead body away. Then, Amon's eyes wandered towards the final two individuals still alive in this disgusting Demon Cult branch.
The more eye-catching of the duo was the two-metre-tall giant wielding a spiked two-handed war club. The leathery-skinned man was built like a boulder, his massive muscles bulging from his tight cultist uniform. Each step he took carried significant weight, and the ground shook as the cultist approached Amon with an angered expression.
"Who the fuck are you?! Why are you attacking us?!"
The impulsive man barked at Amon, seemingly confident he could get some information from the young teen that way. However, Amon was wholly disinterested. His eyes moved to the other man in the room, a sickly-looking middle-aged gentleman draped in scholarly robes. There was fear in the cultist's eyes, and the warrior cultist's body completely hid him.
But Amon knew that the man was far from weak.
The mana hidden within the sickly-looking cultist was obscene, and it was corrupted by the Demonic energy that plagued the ritualistic idol. It only took one look, and Amon could deduce who was responsible for the mass sacrifice to create that Demonic idol.
Wasting no time with words, Amon moved to strike his prey. Amon's feet moved faster than before, repositioning him into the perfect place to slice the two cultists in half and end the raid instantly. But for the first time this evening, Amon's sword found some resistance.
Clank!!!
Amon's strike was blocked by the warrior's war club, forcing his blade back a few metres. For a brief moment, Amon felt a tinge of shock wash down his brain. And that's when he gave the muscular cultist a second look.
Red energy seeped out from every pore of the man's body, coating his skin with a layer of translucent armour. But it wasn't limited to his massive frame; the enormous spiked war club was shrouded with energy too, and the mysterious force created a gravity which ultimately repelled anything that dared to face its wrath.
'Aura user…'
Amon clicked his tongue and cursed mentally.
Just like how there were different tiers of magicians, Knights were very much the same. However, Knights weren't classified by how many circles they had but by how proficient they were at using their mana.
For instance, the essential ability a Knight had to learn was circulating their mana. The following few levels were how to strengthen their bodies with mana, imbue their weapons with mana, and fight using their mana-empowered weapons.
However, the next level differentiated the regular Knights from the Elites.
The ability to condense mana outside one's body and use it as a weapon.
Aura.
Aura allowed Knights to stand toe-to-toe against magicians who could create tornadoes and split the sea. They gave Knights power beyond human imagination, allowing them to do the impossible.
The difference between an Aura user and a non-Aura user was extreme. It was akin to the difference between a toddler who was just learning how to walk and a world champion sprinter. Due to the absurd properties of Aura, there was practically no competition. In a one-on-one battle where both users bet their lives on the line, an Aura user would always win against a non-Aura user.
So, to encounter an Aura user in this remote Demon Cult branch…
'How unlucky.'
"Hmph! I can recognise those features anywhere! You're a brat from the Solaris House! I don't know how you found us or why you're raiding us alone, but you're out of luck!"
Being born into the Solaris House was both a blessing and a curse. Their signature black hair and golden eyes were proof of their noble bloodline, but it also served as a fingerprint. Anyone who saw Amon's features would instantly piece together that he was from the Solaris House.
'I will need to invest in some disguise tools.'
Amon was wholly disinterested in the villain's monologue as he considered purchasing disguises for future infiltration missions.
"Now that you've seen our faces don't blame me for killing you, kid! No one can know of our mighty organisation's existence until…"
Before the massive cultist could complete his sentence, Amon rushed in with yet another slash. This time, he moved at double the speed, hoping to catch the man off guard. However, the cultist knew Amon's antics and blocked his attack again with his massive club.
"Tch, fucking brat!!! Don't you know how to listen?!"
The warrior cultist's red aura intensified by two folds and smashed into Amon's blade. The power within the attack was enough to shatter boulders and tear down an entire house. However, Amon withstood the siege.
"Hmph! You seemed to be pretty skilled! But it doesn't matter! In the face of absolute power…"
Just as the cultist was ready to enter another monologue, Amon shut him up with a new attack. Amon didn't bother to target his weak points this time and went with a simple thrust. Mana was assembled into a singular point and pierced into the warrior's thick Aura. Unable to withstand the direct force Amon generated, the cultist flew backwards by a few metres, only to regain his wits while baring his fangs for all to see.
"You motherfucker!!! I'll kill you!!!"
The cultist completely snapped. Brandishing his weapon, the two-metre-tall giant leapt into the air, bringing his spiked war club down like a smite from the heavens. Coated with his dense Aura, it was an attack akin to a comet falling from outer space and smashing violently onto the floor where Amon once stood.
Debris flew everywhere, and a crater formed beneath the cultist's feet. The residue Aura he'd generated spewed violently, causing a mini-storm to brew within the final chamber.
Amon narrowed his eyes and calmly observed the cultist as he retracted his war club and savagely spewed venom at Amon once again: "Bastard, you move quickly! But…"
The warrior leapt forward and swivelled his club like a maniac let loose. With his Aura, speed and power, each strike would be fatal if landed directly on Amon's unprotected body. Hence, Amon was wary of keeping the club out of reach while using his superior footwork to dance around his opponent.
"Without Aura, you're just a brat waiting to be killed! So just give up and let me crush your skull!!!"
By this time, the pair had exchanged dozens of strikes. The warrior cultist was getting impatient, and his strikes became more frantic. However, even with so many openings, Amon could not pierce through the man's dense Aura defence. If it continued, there would only be one of two conclusions.
One, the cultist would run out of Aura and exhaust himself, giving Amon the perfect opportunity to land the finishing blow. Or two… Amon would be crushed under the pressure, and his life would be seriously jeopardised.
But Amon didn't like either of those options. Hence, he created a third one.
'I didn't want to reveal this, but I guess I have no choice…'
Amon widened the distance between the cultist and himself with a single leap and pivoted his sword back, changing his stance. The mana within him was reaching a boiling point as his eyes began to glimmer in a brilliant golden hue.
His opponent assumed that Amon had simply given up and ran head-first like a charging bull, ready to land the finishing blow. However, the man's attack never materialised. Why?
Before the cultist could deliver his all-out strike, his entire body was pierced through. The spiked two-handed war club in his hands shattered into dozens of pieces, and his tensed muscles were now losing gallons of blood by the second. Falling to his knees, all the warrior could feel was an intense heat searing through his wounds and making his soul melt with absolute submission.
And right before his eyes, all he could see was the young lad he'd once belittled, shrouded in a divine golden coat of pure mystical Aura.
"F-Fuck… You were… an Aura user… too…"
The cultist breathed his last words as he fell silently onto the ground, and ironically, the last light he would see in his life was the brilliant glow of Amon's nascent Solar Aura.