The Curio Vault was far quieter today than it had been the day before. After the mysterious woman had left, taking with her The Dead Man's Ring and a chilling air of unease, Elliot had expected the tension to linger, but instead, it was a welcome calm that enveloped the shop. The flickering lanterns cast long shadows across the shelves, their soft glow dimming the harsh chill of the evening air that crept in from the streets. The sounds of the city outside seemed distant, muted, as though the world had slowed down for just a moment.
Elliot leaned back against the counter, his thoughts wandering as he absentmindedly scanned the shop's interior. The day had been uneventful, almost peaceful compared to yesterday. The usual oddities had come and gone, but there had been no sign of any more strange or dangerous customers.
Then, a soft creak of the door broke the stillness. Elliot's gaze snapped toward the entrance, and his muscles tensed, prepared for the usual customer.
A man stepped inside. He was familiar, though Elliot hadn't seen him in some time—the barkeeper. His tall frame and sharp eyes were unmistakable. Elliot had first encountered him during his time at The Huntsman's Rest tavern, where the barkeeper had suggested the job for him and later confirmed his truthfulness with the artifact. That same man now stood before him, but there was something different this time.
"Evening," the barkeeper said casually, stepping further into the shop. "I didn't expect to see you here."
Elliot's heart skipped a beat as the man's eyes scanned the room, clearly taking in every detail. He spoke like a regular customer, but something in the air felt heavier.
"I am new here, working as an apprentice for the shop owner, Marlowe. Why are you here?" Elliot asked, his voice betraying none of the alarm pulsing beneath his calm exterior.
"I come here from time to time," the barkeeper continued, his voice smooth. "You never know when you might find something useful. You wouldn't believe the things people bring in here. Not all of it is as harmless as it seems."
Elliot nodded mechanically, trying to maintain his composure, though a nagging unease began to build in the pit of his stomach. His hand subtly brushed the edge of the counter, and he mentally prepared himself. He didn't trust this man—it was too much of a coincidence for Elliot to meet him here. And in this world, coincidences were often a harbinger of danger.
The barkeeper strolled casually around the shop, picking up items here and there, as if he were just another customer browsing. Elliot kept his distance, his thoughts racing. He tried to focus on something—anything—that could explain this unsettling visit, but the more he watched, the more his unease deepened.
It was only when the barkeeper took out a crystal monocle that the tension in the air sharpened into something more dangerous. The sight of the monocle, its distinct cut glinting faintly in the dim light, sent a jolt of recognition through Elliot's body.
Amon!
The name whispered through his mind like a cold shiver. His grip tightened on the counter, and in that instant, his mind clicked into place. This wasn't just a regular customer or a random tavern barkeep. This was Amon, the Angel of Time. An incredibly powerful being who would become one of Klein's greatest enemies, with god-like abilities that were beyond Elliot's comprehension.
In his shock, Elliot whispered the name involuntarily. "Amon…"
The words escaped his lips before he could stop them, a low murmur of recognition that echoed louder than he intended.
The barkeeper froze, the monocle still pressed to his eye. A flicker of surprise flashed across his face—too quick to be faked—and the casual demeanor he had been carrying vanished. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his gaze to Elliot, his eyes narrowing in curiosity.
"How do you know that name?" Amon's voice was colder now, laced with a sharp edge. "Tell me."
Elliot's breath hitched. His body froze. A cold sweat broke out across his back. The [Observation] skill surged to life in his mind, trying to analyze the man before him.
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Subject: Amon???
Status: ???
Description: ???
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But as Elliot's skill activated, a terrible realization swept over him. The man standing before him wasn't just an ordinary Beyonder. This was Amon, the Angel of Time, one of the most powerful and elusive entities in the Lord of the Mysteries world. His skill couldn't even pull up any useful information about him, aside from his first name. There was no escape. No reason to think he could get out of this alive.
Amon tilted his head slightly, looking at his monocle, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Ah, I see. You're a perceptive one. But how do you know who I am? I've taken great care to hide my true nature."
Elliot's mind raced. He had to think fast. His hand tightened on the counter, knuckles white as he tried to use his [Mental Barrier] skill—the only skill that had ever given him any hope of surviving such encounters. He knew that if he didn't block Amon's influence now, his mind and soul would be taken and corrupted without him even realizing it.
But before he could even take a breath, Amon's voice cut through his thoughts.
"You think you can shield your mind from me?" Amon's tone was amused, almost mocking. "How quaint."
Elliot's eyes widened as he felt the pressure begin to build, an invisible weight pressing down on his mind. The very air seemed to vibrate with Amon's power. His heart pounded in his chest as his mental defenses began to crack, the walls of his [Mental Barrier] shaking under the force.
To buy him some time, he used his most powerful offensive skill: [Static Charge] combined with [Energy Overload]. But as the skills flared in his hands, they felt weak, insignificant, like a spark trying to fight a raging inferno. The energy built up only to dissipate in a momentary fizzle. His [Arcane Resonance] also activated, but again, it was nothing in comparison to Amon's presence. The shockwave that followed made his teeth rattle, and the air seemed to distort as Amon's power surged.
Amon grinned. "Futile."
The pressure in Elliot's mind increased tenfold. His thoughts blurred, his vision began to swim. He fought it, with everything he had, but Amon's grip on him was unyielding. His consciousness wavered, and just as he was on the brink of losing control, Amon raised his hand with a deliberate motion.
Steal: Ability
Elliot felt something inside him tear away. It wasn't just a physical sensation—it was deeper, more profound. His [Mental Barrier] skill, his control over his own thoughts, was ripped away from him, as though Amon had simply plucked it from the very essence of his being. The sudden loss was disorienting, dizzying. He was left exposed, vulnerable, a shell of his former self.
Then Amon's hand moved again, this time with a flourish. The monocle flashed, and Elliot's memories—everything he knew, every bit of knowledge, every fragment of his experience—was siphoned from him. Amon absorbed it with the cold efficiency of a predator feeding, his eyes narrowing in pleasure as Elliot's mind began to fracture.
Steal: Memories
The memories of his previous life, of the world he had come from, began to blur. The images of family, friends, the life he once knew—all began to fade, as though someone was erasing them from existence. It was as if his very sense of self was being dissolved.
Elliot's breathing became ragged. He fought with everything he had left. But Amon's power overwhelmed him. Time itself seemed to slow, and the air crackled with tension. Amon's amusement turned darker, more predatory, as he toyed with the fragments of Elliot's memories that remained.
Steal: Life
In that moment, Amon snatched away more than just his vitality—he stole his identity, his sense of self, the core of everything that made Elliot who he was. His thoughts splintered into a thousand fractured pieces, each part of him scattering into nothingness. He could no longer hold onto the memories that defined him, the experiences that shaped his reality, the very understanding of his own existence.
His mind was a void, a cold emptiness where even the concept of Elliot seemed like a distant, unfamiliar idea. His future—whatever it had been—was no longer his to determine. The terrifying realization struck him: he was nothing more than a wisp of thought, an echo, his fate erased by Amon's will. The path forward was obliterated, leaving only a hollow, meaningless present.
Amon tilted his head once more, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he gazed at the broken man before him. His eyes flashed with a dark, unholy light, and for a moment, Elliot saw something ancient and incomprehensible—the very flow of time itself was bending around Amon's presence.
But then, as his mind splintered under the weight of Amon's manipulation, something unexpected happened. A flicker of recognition flashed across Amon's face—a moment of disbelief.
Amon's eyes widened as he realized the full depth of what he was encountering. For a brief, horrifying moment, Amon seemed to hesitate, stunned by the knowledge that flooded his consciousness. Amon was no fool—he had glimpsed something that even he didn't fully understand. Something about Elliot defied the flow of time, a paradox embedded in his very being.
But before Elliot could even grasp the meaning of this fleeting moment of shock, his mind and soul shattered completely, splintered under the weight of Amon's assault. The world tilted, and everything went black.
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[System Notification: You have died.]
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