Amon remained still for a long moment after hearing the Spell's cold voice echo in his head. Moonlight Shard…?

His ragged breathing filled the silence as the storm quieted overhead for a moment. Slowly, his eyes drifted around the ruined camp. Luna and Medici were gone, already having left the camp because of the appearance of the Leviathan from beneath it.

The battlefield was broken and scarred, the Leviathan's rampage tearing through the bones of the colossal corpse. Chunks of shattered spine and ribs had collapsed, and from the ruin, something ancient and surprising was revealed, the headless statue of the Slayer. So that's why he got the Moonlight Shard.

After coming to that realization, his gaze slid back to the carcass of the Specter. Even in death, it looked wrong, half-seen, half-vanished. Blood and acid were the only things that made the Abomination visible to the eye. Amon noticed the injuries he had inflicted before were almost healed. That's how it had managed to stand up once again and chase Amon as he was climbing on the gargantuan bones of the monster.

He nodded faintly to himself. I hadn't accounted for that… The creature could regenerate. He should have made its death his first priority, not chased after his friends.

It was easy to tell himself that now. In the moment, though… he had been afraid. Not of death... Okay, he was scared shitless of dying, but the point was, he was afraid of losing Luna and Medici. And because of that, emotions briefly overwhelmed pragmatism, causing flaws in his judgment.

He also understood what voice Luna was talking about. It wasn't Granny or the Specter, but the Leviathan lurking beneath their camp. Listener truly was invaluable in this world. If Luna ever managed to control it with precision, it would become a terrifying advantage. But Amon knew power like that came with a price. While Luna liked to hide it, he noticed how restless she was when asleep and how it felt like she was having headaches from time to time.

But then he quickly shook his head. He needed to think, but there wasn't any real need, though... his own situation was brutally simple: he was fucked.

The cold gnawed at his bones while the guttural roars of two monsters reverberated through the storm and raging dark sea, making the bone tremble under him. He swallowed hard, throat dry, and forced himself to move. But the moment he pushed up from the ground, white-hot pain ripped through his abdomen and arm. His knees buckled, the air punched out of his lungs. He collapsed back onto the coral-covered bone with a strangled scream, the adrenaline draining out of him like water through cracked stone and pain crashing upon him like a tidal wave.

Gritting his teeth, he rolled to his left, clawing for a higher ledge so he wouldn't be swept into the waves hammering against the creature's spine.

But it was pointless. He had only been a normal human a few months ago. He wasn't some protagonist who could instantly adapt to this shit like Mahoraga. He didn't understand the mystical bullshit of the "essence of combat," and thank Roselle he wasn't fated either. That shit was diabolical.

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he let out a long sigh, leaning against an ivory shard of bone. His eyes remained fixed on the storm, the raging waves, and the two ancient monstrosities tearing at each other. The Kraken and Leviathan kept fueling their generational beef, while Amon just wished he had a bucket of popcorn to go with the show.

He forced a faint smile, trying to shield himself with humor, but it didn't stick. He was cooked. No amount of jokes could save him now. And to make things worse…

"Luna and Medici left… Eh. Life sucks. At least I hope you get that collection of demonesses, my dear Fraud."

The grin lingered as he closed his eyes, just for a moment, trying to rest. But alas, Leodero hated him with a passion, and water from a wave splashed on his face.

He kept the same serene expression as he wiped the water off.

"Blyat..."

Most people in his place would think, my friends betrayed me. But Amon knew better. He knew they had no choice. He trusted them and he wasn't Sunny. He could actually imagine what it was like for someone else, could put himself in their shoes.

He rolled his eyes and let out a ragged yawn, only to cough and spit a mouthful of brine.

"Cough! Bleh…"

His throat burned. His chest felt as if someone had driven nails into his ribs. Amon raised his gaze to the heavens, hatred boiling in his chest. That fraud… that bastard who stole Dad's authority. And now he's doing this!? How dare he?!

He tried to stand, slower this time, every muscle trembling with pain. I need higher ground… or the sea will swallow me.

The thought had barely left his mind when the water around him surged. His blood froze. He turned and saw Leviathan's massive bulk hurled like a mountain through the air, its body flung by the Kraken's writhing tentacle.

"Shit!"

The colossus struck the Slayer's Statue like a hammer from the abyss. Stone split and ivory bones cracked. The impact sent a wall of black water crashing over Amon, slamming him into the monument with bone-snapping force.

For a moment, he couldn't breathe or move. His vision blurred red, and his blood ran with the tide. He was dying...

But then… he looked up and saw something that made him blink in disbelief and horror.

Leviathan's body was pierced clean through, impaled on the Slayer's ancient blade and its thrashing slowing down. Far below, the Kraken sank back into the depths, adding new territory to its hunting ground.

Amon stared, wide-eyed. His heart pounded in his chest. Most reasonable reaction would be to run away, but... I'm a fucking thief, of course I'm gonna steal the kill from the Kraken!

Grinning to himself, he dragged himself forward, inch by inch, his bones grinding, making him grunt in pain. Moonlight Shard appeared in his hand, its sharp edge cutting through the darkness. He dropped onto the cold bone and crawled toward the dying titan.

With a guttural growl, he raised the shard high.

The Leviathan's gaze flickered toward him, vast and ancient, filled with so much madness and malice that Amon trembled in fear under its gaze but he clenched his fist, and the dagger fell.

He would have liked to say that the shard bit deep into the creature's flesh but... eh, it only scratched it. Though it was more than enough. He just needed the last hit.

But something was wrong... Amon blinked, scratching his head and glancing at the creature. Then he tilted his head, as if to let water flow out of his ear to hear the Spell's voice but nothing... For the next few minutes, he stayed still and waited like a neglected kid while scratching some runes on the bone.

Then, at last, the cold voice echoed in his mind:

[You have slain a Corrupted Demon, Bane of Legion].

[You Have Received a Memory, Horizon's Edge.]

Amon let out a satisfied sigh as he slumped beside the corpse of the creature. That was it. He was done. He could no longer feel his body, and there was no chance of escape.

He could have abandoned the leviathan and let it die, but he hadn't. Even if he had tried, there was no guarantee he would've lived. His injuries were worsening and bones were broken. Either way, he had been doomed from the start.

But if he was going to die, whether he ran or fought, wasn't it better to die doing something he loved? He loved stealing, didn't he? So he was satisfied. Afraid, cold, and in pain, yes… but also strangely happy that he had defied his own cowardice and embraced what pleased him.

Amidst the stormlit skies and raging sea, a strange calmness settled over him. Perhaps it was the acknowledgment of powerlessness, of being utterly helpless before fate.

But truly? Could fate even stop him? No… that was arrogance. He was only a dormant human, nothing more, nothing less. How could he contend against the authority of fate, one so vast that even its master couldn't break it?

He didn't know why his thoughts turned this way but he had asked himself these questions many times before, even in his past life. Was misery destined for him? Or had he created it himself? Did it even matter anymore?

His old life had been nothing impressive. He was just an ordinary man, an alcoholic, a thrill-seeking bum who cared only for himself. He hadn't appreciated anything until it was gone. His parents. His grandparents. His brother. Luna…

And now, with death only a breath away, sorrow and regret welled heavier than fear.

His life had been meaningless… had it not? But wasn't there a saying? I think, therefore I am. His teacher had liked those words. But did he truly exist? He had read this very novel once, and now he lived inside it. Facing that truth was both confusing and despairing.

But still… he could think. And since he could think, he could doubt. And since he could doubt, he must exist.

To think is to exist. To doubt is to begin.

At this moment, he didn't care about fear, happiness, ambition, or anything else. What could be more pitiful than a man without meaning? And Amon's life, both past and present, was nothing but meaninglessness.

He wasn't the Amon from Lord of Mysteries. He was… ???. And now, he was Amon, The Blasphemer. If life had no meaning, why should he care? He existed without purpose and he loved it that way. He didn't need meaning forced upon him.

He wasn't a character who struggled tirelessly, pushing forward with relentless determination. He was lazy, unremarkable, and often reckless. So what? He would rise above those who worked hard by exploiting the process. He was Error, after all. And Error needed no meaning.

Even if he died here, it wouldn't matter. His life was an absurd joke and one that he found strangely amusing. The only regret gnawing at him was leaving Luna behind… again. He could never tell her he was sorry. Not in the past life, and apparently, not in this one either...

Well, shit… All that philosophical monologue, to realise that I… still love her.

He let out a faint smile, shaking his head as the cold gnawed at him. Then he looked into the darkness, closing his eyes, finally surrendering to exhaustion. His last thought drifted through his mind, soft and bittersweet:

To avoid danger and responsibility forever… endless adventure… how great would that be…

But contrary to Amon's expectations, death did not claim him. Something slammed onto the broken spine, followed by a figure leaping onto a jagged bone shard as Amon sank beneath the dark sea.

The young woman was utterly exhausted, her body betraying both physical and mental strain. Her snow-white hair clung damply to her skin, and her tall, lithe frame trembled from the cold, the darkness swallowing her charcoal-toned skin. Only her crystal-blue eyes glimmered faintly, luminous beacons in the black night.

Dragging herself through the churning water, she reached the leviathan's corpse, her body slicing through wind and rain as lightning carved the sky. She lowered her hands into the cold depths, wrapping them around Amon's battered form.

Seeing the injuries, she gritted her teeth, frustration mingled with determination, and pressed the heel of one hand into the center of his chest, the other just above. She pushed hard, rhythmic and relentless.

After thirty-nine repetitions, she cursed softly, then leaned closer. Her scarlet lips brushed against his, warm against the icy sting of the water. She exhaled and a soft breath entered in his lungs. Her hands pressed him closer as she repeated the motion desperately.

Amon coughed, water spilling from his lungs, his chest heaving, but still unconscious. Luna lingered a moment longer, allowing her hands to steady, her lips brushing faintly against his jaw.

She drew a deep, shivering breath, glancing at the only source of light in the water: a sphere of flames illuminating a boat, Medici's face twisted in anger and vigilance as he scanned the stormy horizon.

Without hesitation, Luna hoisted Amon's limp body and hurled him toward Medici, who caught him deftly and laid him safely on the boat. Luna climbed aboard herself, and together they set the vessel in motion.

Medici compressed the flames, releasing them in short bursts to propel them faster, while Luna steered with precision, guiding them toward safety.

And so, amid storm, dark sea, and ruin, the Transmigrator Trio survived.

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[A/N: Okay, guys, before you jump to strange conclusions, this wasn't just Amon's thoughts, but his Humanity and Uniqueness clashing with each other. And yeah, screw it, we're doing romance, whatever. For those who think his thoughts are childish or unrealistic, I want you to consider how you'd feel if you were thrown into a novel. Oh? And by the way, I don't give a damn, I've learned what kind of place WebNovel is, and being polite here seems like a crime. I also haven't checked for grammar errors since I'm busy, so if there are any, tell me and I'll fix them later. That's it for now, enjoy.]

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