Cyril stared expressionlessly at the charred corpse before him. In his eyes, a phantom book appeared, its pages turning slowly.
Then he dragged a sharp, sturdy, heavy, broad-bladed greatsword into existence.
Whoosh!
Amid the fierce rush of air, the charred corpse wearing a monocle was cleaved in two.
It neither resisted nor dodged, as if it had been waiting to be cut down.
Cyril raised an eyebrow slightly and looked at where the corpse had fallen. A small worm curled into a ball, its transparent and opaque segments alternating, dropped out.
It seemed Amon's avatar had gone offline just like that—so simply, it was almost careless.
He looked around at the forest, now charred and empty, and hesitated before asking,
"Hermes?"
As soon as the words left his mouth, that familiar figure in a gray-white robe quietly appeared at the edge of his vision. A few blades of grass at his feet, untouched by the battle, swayed gently in the wind. It was as if he had been standing there from the start, and Cyril had simply overlooked him.
Noticing the other man's gaze fixed on his face, Cyril hurriedly removed the monocle he had bought before leaving Backlund.
Only then did Hermes nod slightly and look away.
"Don't put on a monocle so casually next time, especially over your right eye. Amon can detect this kind of imitation, just as he did just now."
"Once he notices you, he can do more than appear right in front of you. He can choose to parasitize you instead."
Cyril nodded seriously, then explained,
"I just wanted to scare that 'God of Weather.' I didn't expect Amon to arrive so quickly."
Hermes shook his head slightly. "Amon has many avatars. It's not surprising to run into him anywhere."
"Because of that Pathway's