"That shopkeeper is dangerous. Trust me—mark his shop as a Grade 0 threat."
That's what my colleague, Mark, had said during one of our weekly meetings.
At the time, none of us really understood what he meant. A Grade 0 threat? That classification was reserved for anomalies that defied logic, individuals or entities so unpredictable that containment wasn't even an option. But it was my job to investigate, and now that I was here, standing inside the shop… I understood.
I had been browsing since I walked in, taking my time, pretending to be just another customer. The door mat—just a simple, worn-out thing at first glance—was a Grade 3 artifact. An item, that should have gained sentient and bargain with humans for usage. Reduced to something as mundane as a doormat.
And the shopkeeper? He stood behind the counter, watching me with an easy, unreadable smile. His name was pinned to his chest on a simple badge, as if it was something insignificant. Luthian.
The dangerous individual.
I kept moving, forcing myself to appear casual, but my pulse quickened the moment I spotted it.
A Grade 1 artifact.
For sale. Just sitting there, tucked away on a shelf like an ordinary trinket.
Why? That question hovered in my mind for a heartbeat.
I serve in the Beyonder Security Force—an organization responsible for managing and containing artifacts, whether cursed or blessed. In my four years of service, I had never seen a Grade 2 artifact in person. I had only read about them in restricted archives. A Grade 1? That was beyond comprehension.
And yet, here it was.
I recognized it immediately—not just because of my training, but because of my ability. A unique skill that allowed me to perceive the true nature of objects. It was the reason I was chosen for this mission. And right now, my ability was screaming.
– Calamity. Calamity. Calamity.
The artifact took the form of an old pocket watch. Unassuming, almost mundane. But the weight of its presence was suffocating.
My real objective in coming here wasn't just to investigate the shop—it was to use my ability on him.
I forced myself to maintain a neutral expression, my voice even as I finally spoke.
"You have an interesting collection."
"Take your time," the shopkeeper said.
The moment the words left his lips, something shifted.
The world around me shattered—not like something breaking, but as if reality itself was nothing more than fragile glass, splintering into countless shards.
I barely had time to process it before a voice echoed through the void.
"Weakling. What brings you here?"
My entire body locked up.
Then I saw it.
A presence unlike anything I had ever encountered. A being so radiant, so searingly divine, that just looking at it made my thoughts blur.
It floated in the endless void, wreathed in golden fire. Six massive wings extended from its back—no, five. One of them was torn, severed in the middle.
Two wings veiled its eyes.
Two wings concealed its feet.
And the last two—one broken, the other whole—twitched as if it was ready to take flight at any moment.
A Seraphim.
A Grade 2 divine being.
My mind reeled.
People whispered stories about them—how if you ever saw a Seraphim, it meant death. That no mortal walked away from their gaze.
I turned on instinct, trying to flee, but there was nowhere to run. The space I stood in wasn't a room, wasn't even a place. It was nothingness. A vast, incomprehensible void stretching into eternity.
"Do not be afraid," the being intoned.
Its voice burned through me, reverberating in my bones.
I was afraid. I couldn't help it.
But still, somehow, I obeyed.
I forced myself to stand, though my legs trembled violently beneath me.
The wings that had been covering its eyes slowly spread open.
I braced myself for something awe-inspiring, something celestial and beyond mortal comprehension.
Instead, what I saw was—
Hideous.
A grotesque, twisting form that defied logic. Its features shifted and writhed as if rejecting any fixed shape, too unnatural for a human mind to grasp.
I shuddered violently. My breath came in short, ragged gasps, my chest tightening as if unseen hands were crushing it. My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto all fours, my fingers clawing at the cold, empty void beneath me.
My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat, but I swallowed it down, too afraid to make a sound. My limbs felt like lead, my vision blurred at the edges, my heart hammering so loudly I could barely hear my own thoughts.
Then, it spoke.
"Beware. The name Amon should be avoided once you go out."
I barely registered the words, my mind still trying to recover from the horror I had just witnessed.
I hadn't even dared to look directly at its face. I thought that was the respectful thing to do.
I was wrong.
"You see, devils have the most beautiful faces to tempt humans. We angels—" its voice turned colder, sharper, "we instead look for the beauty of one's heart. And you, mortal… you have failed."
My breath hitched.
Failed?
A terrible sense of dread crawled up my spine.
Just then, a voice echoed through the space.
"Ma'am?"
The sound rippled through the void, and in an instant, reality snapped back into place.
The darkness vanished. The oppressive presence disappeared.
I was standing in the shop again, my hand trembling as I clutched the pocket watch. My forehead was damp with cold sweat, my other hand pressed against it as if to steady my spinning thoughts. The pocket watch slipped from my grasp, falling to the floor with a dull clink.
"Ma'am?"
The shopkeeper's voice was clearer this time.
I turned toward him, still disoriented, my chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. For a brief moment, I felt grateful—had he pulled me out of that place? Had his voice somehow saved me?
My gaze flickered back to the watch, then to him, then back to the watch.
What just happened?
I didn't even know how to put it into words.
But I couldn't leave empty-handed—not after he had unknowingly helped me escape that thing.
Since even a Grade 1 artifact was openly displayed here, I decided to take the safest route.
"Sir, can you show me some of your... useless items?"
The shopkeeper let out a small sigh, picking up the pocket watch and placing it back where it belonged.
– Ah , did I upset him somehow? This is dangerous.
A brief hesitation settled in my chest, but he didn't seem angry. Instead, he simply motioned for me to follow.
"Come along, then."
Like a lost chick trailing its mother, I followed him toward the counter.
He rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a small wristwatch.
At first, it looked normal.
But then I saw it.
'Amon.'
The watch had a name. And that name was Amon.
Every hair on my body stood on end.
"Here, take this."
I stiffened. Was this real?
My mind scrambled for an excuse, some way to politely refuse, but before I could react, he reached out and slipped it onto my wrist.
Cold. The metal was freezing against my skin.
Fear crept up my spine, nearly choking me, but I forced a neutral expression.
The shopkeeper only smiled.
"Don't be shy—it's a gift."
His tone was lighthearted, but something about it unsettled me. That smile on his face—it was terrifying.
Keeping my composure, I reached into my pouch, pulling out fifteen gold coins. That was everything I had.
A month's salary was only twenty gold coins, and that was for a job filled with actual life-threatening dangers. Giving away fifteen was a painful loss, but if it meant balancing the strange, unspoken debt between us, I was willing to do it.
But he rejected it.
Instead, he asked for silver.
I hesitated, then pulled out everything I had—nearly a hundred and fifty silver coins.
That was less than ten percent of what I had originally tried to pay in gold.
His eyes lit up with excitement as he took the coins, his voice almost giddy.
"For me?"
I nodded stiffly.
"Yes. Thanks for the watch."
He beamed.
"Wait here, let me grab the pocket watch for you as well."
No.
Absolutely not.
I turned on my heel and made a beeline for the door.
"No thanks! This is more than enough!" I called over my shoulder, practically bolting outside.
Only when I was well past the shop did I finally let out a long, shaky breath, my lungs heaving as I tried to steady myself.
I had escaped.
Escaped him.
Escaped that den of horrors.
The mission had failed.
But after what I had just experienced, I did not dare use my ability on that shopkeeper.