Wind howled past Amon's ears as he plunged into the darkness. His eyes stayed wide, tracking the rolling gray mist swallowing the ground above and a slow grin tugged at his lips... right on cue.

A true Swindler always chooses his mark. Never random, never blind. That was why he'd spent so much time watching this demon; learning its scavenger's habits, its twisted instincts, even its strange abilities.

The details had come to him almost too easily, like puzzle pieces sliding into place. That thought made his brow crease for just a moment… but there was no time to dwell on it. The hunt wasn't over yet.

Somehow, the plan had worked.

Sure, the first attempt had gone up in flames, literally but Amon had learned from the best. Always have a backup. That was the lesson drilled into him by his personal hero: Batman.

The second plan carried a mountain of risks and demanded quick improvisation. If it hadn't been for the demon's habit of toying with prey and draining them dry before the kill, they'd have been corpses already.

But none of that mattered now. What mattered was that it had taken the bait.

Earlier, Amon had "casually" dragged Medici into exploring the cave where Nephis once found shard memory, all so he could map the exact spot where a well-timed collapse would drop them straight into that dark, ominous pit.

The gray mist had been a last-minute bonus. He hadn't known it would be there… until he'd seen it rolling in while they ran. Then, the plan had shifted on the fly.

Now, it was time to finish it.

"Medici! Is it ready?!" Amon shouted over the roar of wind.

Medici's grin was wild. In his palm, flames compacted into a searing orb, heat shimmering around it. With a sharp thrust, he let it fly. A sphere of blazing fire ripped upward, the recoil flinging Medici back toward the yawning darkness below. The sheer force was proof of just how much power he'd packed into it.

The shot slammed into the falling demon.

BOOM!

The impact hurled the creature upward, its roar cut short. Not from pain, but from something far worse. Its jagged maw hung open, hesitation flickering in its blank expression as its pale pupils dilated with… dread.

The gray mist was there, spilling down through the shattered hole above. It touched the demon's flesh and the giant shuddered. Tremors rippled through its body. And then without blood, without bones, without even a scream, it simply vanished. The mist didn't swallow it so much as rewrite it, until it was no longer a creature at all… but another thread in the fog.

Amon watched the eerie sight in silence, skin crawling at the mist's unnatural power to erase something from existence as if it had never been.

But there was no time to dwell on it. They were still falling.

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to stay calm, though that was becoming harder with every passing day. His ribs screamed in protest with each movement, but he shifted, letting instinct take over. His nimble, acrobatic frame twisted in the air, searching for control.

The cavern walls whipped past in the dimness. He scanned the surroundings, cursed under his breath, then rolled his shoulders and dove to pick up speed, straight toward Medici.

"Oi! Grab my arm!" he shouted, ignoring the hot spike of pain from his chest.

Medici looked up, eyes narrowing, and reached. Their hands locked in a solid grip.

Together, they twisted again, using their combined momentum to spin toward the nearest wall, boots scraping against jagged stone as they tried to bleed off speed before the ground rushed up to meet them.

Amon clenched his teeth and, with a flick of his wrist, drove his hidden blade into the cave wall. Sparks spat from the dark, jagged stone as steel bit deep, slowing their fall but not nearly enough.

The drag lasted only a heartbeat. They'd been plummeting too long; their speed was brutal.

Shit! How did Itachi pull this off? The thought flashed in disbelief as a bone-deep ache shot through his arms. Numbness crept into his fingers, were they broken? He didn't know. Didn't want to know.

At least he wasn't alone in this shithole. Medici, dense sometimes, sure, but gifted with a fighter's instinct, took one look at Amon's struggle and reacted.

White sparks burst in the air, solidifying into the Flag of Life. With a sharp thrust, the Blood Son of Heaven buried it into the rock face. The spear's haft rattled in Medici's grip as it scraped a harsh line down the wall, throwing shards into the void.

Still… it wasn't enough. The momentum was monstrous, the ground below rushing up like an executioner's blade.

Medici's teeth ground together in irritation before he flared his essence. Blazing yellow fire roared to life, flooding the cave's suffocating dark with a molten glow.

Amon winced and shielded his face from the sudden heat, only to feel Medici's hand clamp around his arm. The next moment, Medici twisted, boot smashing against the wall, yanking them both out from the rock face.

"Grab on!" he barked, grinning despite the chaos.

Amon wrapped his arms around him just as Medici leveled the Flag of Life horizontally.

For a few more seconds they plunged, wind screaming in their ears until the passage narrowed. The spear's ends slammed into opposite walls with a teeth-rattling CRACK, arresting their fall in an instant.

The shockwave tore through Medici's arms. He hissed in pain, instinct forcing his fingers open before the bones could snap and the Flag clattered away into the dark.

They dropped the final few meters and hit the cold, wet ground hard enough to rattle their skulls. The air blasted from their lungs in unison, leaving them sprawled, gasping, and bruised in the eerie glow of fading firelight.

A few hours later, Amon's eyes snapped open. He sat up abruptly, his face twisted in fear and pain. He winced, clutching his abdomen as the fractured ribs protested sharply, like a hundred needles stabbing into his bones.

After a few shaky breaths, he pushed his hair back and frowned. Slowly, he lowered his right hand… only to see it. His fingers were twisted, unnatural. Nah, nah… he was imagining it. Right? Right?

"AGHHHH!!!"

The scream tore from him as he braced on his left hand, only for a fresh surge of agony to lunge through his nervous system. He raised his left hand, eyes widening in disbelief. The fingers were twisted in the same grotesque way.

His breathing came in ragged gasps, each inhale burning his lungs. He forced himself to calm down, collapsing onto the cold, jagged rock. Trembling violently, he drew in ragged breaths of frigid air, trying to endure the relentless pain coursing through his body.

He coughed. It was just a small, awkward sound but even that sent fresh spikes of pain tearing through his body. Every muscle felt drained, every breath a reminder that he was running on fumes. He was exhausted, he was in agony… and, if he was being honest with himself, he was probably dying.

Why had he done this to himself? Just why?

Life wasn't a game. There was no respawn. No extra lives. Just game over, and that was it.

... Blyat, fuck that. Of course it's fucking game…

Eh, I miss Luna… Wonder how she's doing. Hope she's safe…

He let out a long, shaky sigh. Then his eyes shifted, widening just slightly. Normally, he'd pull some exaggerated, over-the-top expression, but he didn't have it in him right now.

Medici was sitting nearby, calm… or at least as calm as a walking hulk could be. Amon's lips twitched into a pale, forced smile.

Good… that bum's safe, at least.

Medici's gaze was dark when he noticed Amon stirring.

Amon knew that look. And exactly why it was there. He opened his mouth to explain... well, make excuses but Medici lifted a hand.

"Don't start. I'm not in the mood for that bullshit."

Amon froze, then rolled his eyes. Even through the pain, he managed a lopsided, cheeky smirk.

"Told you it would work, heh."

Medici's lips twitched into a smile… and then his fist shot forward.

"Fuck you."

Amon's head snapped to the side, his breath catching in shock. He stared for a heartbeat, then forced out a rasping, "…You… motherfucker…" before the darkness swallowed him again.

Medici stared at the annoying bastard for a long moment, then got to work. With a sharp twist, he reset Amon's mangled fingers one by one, the joints snapping back into place. Then he coaxed a low, steady flame into his palms and injuries, cauterizing the worst of the wounds, just enough to keep infection and blood loss at bay.

If Amon were awake, he'd be screaming like a little bitch right now. That's why Medici had knocked him out in the first place.

Once the worst of the damage was under control, Medici planted the Flag of Life into the ground. From what he understood, the memory's enhancement lingered around its wielder, helping allies recover if they stayed within range. Medici's own body could heal on its own, given time. Amon, on the other hand, had no such luxury.

Still… stupid as it was, his friend's reckless plan had worked. If you could call it a plan.

Medici frowned, leaned down, and punched him in the face again. because why not? and finally let the irritation melt into a small, satisfied smile.

Sitting in the dark cave, he remained silent for a moment. Then, runes appeared before him.

Name: Medici.

True Name: Blood Son of Heaven.

Rank: Dreamer.

Soul Core: Dormant.

Soul Fragments: [89/1000]

Memories: [Flag Of Life], [Silk Of Olor], [Armour Breaker], [Mother's Warmth].

Echoes: —

Attributes: [Uniqueness of Red Priest], [Weapon Specialist], [Hunter].

Aspect: [Red Priest]

Aspect Description: [It is the calamities, conflicts, suffering, and death born from the hands of every living being. Hunting; use of fire; weapons; warring. This is the amalgamation of every calamity ever created and unleashed upon the land. This is the path that leads to the inevitable destruction of the world, caused by its very children.]

Aspect Abilities:

Dormant: Pyrokinesis

Medici sighed as he looked at the runes. He didn't need a cryptologist to decipher the meaning of his Aspect. Essence of War, That was it. The most raw, chaotic state of the world, born from endless bloodshed. Conflict would never end, not as long as division existed.

It had always been this way. Even this so-called great era of unity was no different. Without Nightmare Creatures? Humanity would still be at each other's throats. Even with them, they already were.

Yes, they would unite against a greater threat but once it was gone, they would take the power gained from Nightmares, from Memories and Echoes, and turn it on each other.

Conflict and malice were buried too deep in human nature to be erased.