The city stretched out beneath Amon as he stood atop the old cathedral, his gaze scanning the streets below. The world had changed in ways that still felt foreign to him, yet there were constants that remained—conflict, secrets, and shadows lurking just out of sight. His thoughts drifted back to the artifact, the vault, and the mysterious woman, Lysandra, who had saved him. A sound behind him broke his focus.
Amon didn't turn immediately. "Elena," he said softly, recognizing her quiet steps.
"You've been distant," Elena said, stepping up beside him. "Since that night in the vault, you've barely spoken."
Amon kept his eyes forward. "I'm trying to understand something."
"Lysandra?"
He nodded, though there was more to it than just Lysandra. "She knows things—about the past, about me. But there's something she's not saying."
Elena studied him. "You're still trying to piece together what happened centuries ago, aren't you?"
Amon's jaw tightened. "I've lived through countless lifetimes, Elena, but there are gaps. Events, memories, they blur together. And now this woman appears, knowing more about my history than I do."
Elena remained silent, knowing better than to press further. Instead, she shifted the conversation. "We've picked up new leads on the rival faction. They're moving, quietly. We need to be ready."
Amon finally turned to face her, his dark eyes sharp. "Where?"
"A hideout on the outskirts of the city. It seems they're gathering more artifacts, preparing for something big."
Without a word, Amon leapt from the cathedral, landing silently on the street below. Elena followed, barely keeping up as they moved swiftly through the night.
The warehouse was nondescript, blending into the decayed industrial landscape on the edge of the city. Amon and Elena approached from the shadows, their senses heightened. The quiet hum of distant machinery buzzed in the air, but it was the tension—an unspoken heaviness—that set Amon on edge.
"They're inside," Elena whispered, her hand hovering over her concealed weapon. "But something's wrong. It's too quiet."
Amon nodded. He could feel it too. The warehouse wasn't just a hideout—it was a trap. Without hesitation, he signaled to Elena, and they moved in. Inside, the air was thick with the stench of old metal and oil. Crates and machinery were scattered across the floor, but there was no sign of the rival faction members.
"Stay sharp," Amon muttered as they ventured deeper into the facility.
Suddenly, the lights flickered, and a slow, deliberate clapping echoed through the room.
"Well done, Amon. I expected no less from someone of your caliber." A voice cut through the silence, cold and calculated.
Amon's eyes narrowed as a figure emerged from the shadows. Dressed in dark robes, the man exuded an aura of menace and power.
"Varek Kralos," Amon said, his voice steady. "You've been making quite the mess."
Varek's smile was thin and humorless. "Mess? I prefer to call it progress. I've spent centuries planning for this moment. And now, here we are."
Amon moved forward, his posture relaxed but ready for anything. "What is it you want, Varek? Control? Power?"
Varek tilted his head. "Not just power, Amon. Understanding. The kind of understanding you should know well. The artifact isn't just a tool—it's the key to reshaping the very fabric of this world. And I will wield it."
Amon could feel the intensity of Varek's gaze. This wasn't just about domination. Varek believed what he was saying. He genuinely thought he could alter reality itself.
"You've let your ambition cloud your judgment," Amon replied, his tone calm. "You have no idea what kind of forces you're playing with."
Varek's smile widened. "Oh, but I do. And soon, you will too."
In an instant, the warehouse erupted in chaos. Dark energy surged from Varek's hand, lashing out toward Amon and Elena. Amon dodged swiftly, his body moving faster than human eyes could track, while Elena rolled to the side, pulling out her weapon.
The battle was on.
Amon moved like a shadow through the chaos, his body flowing with a grace born from centuries of combat. He had fought countless enemies, but Varek was different. His mastery of dark energy made him unpredictable. The air crackled with power as the two clashed, the force of their attacks shaking the very ground beneath them.
Varek grinned, relishing the challenge. "I've studied your kind, Amon. Immortal, ancient, but ultimately bound by the same rules as the rest of us. You can bleed."
Amon said nothing, his fists glowing faintly as he tapped into his latent energy. He had been holding back, but now he was done playing games. With a burst of speed, he closed the distance, landing a powerful blow that sent Varek staggering back.
But Varek was unfazed. Dark tendrils of energy coiled around him, healing his wounds almost instantly. "Impressive. But you'll need more than that."
Elena fired off a shot, the bullet infused with energy, but Varek swatted it aside effortlessly. "Pathetic," he sneered. "You're all so predictable."
Amon's eyes darkened as he stood, a quiet resolve settling over him. He wasn't going to let Varek win. Not here. Not now.
With a roar, Varek unleashed a massive wave of energy, aiming to crush them both. But as the wave surged forward, something—or someone—intervened. A barrier of silver light shimmered into existence, blocking the attack.
From the shadows, Lysandra stepped forward, her silver hair gleaming in the dim light. "Enough," she said, her voice calm but filled with authority.
Varek's eyes widened, and for the first time, there was a flicker of uncertainty in his expression.
Amon glanced at Lysandra, a mixture of surprise and gratitude flashing across his face. But there were still too many questions. Why was she here? What was her true motive?
The battle wasn't over yet.