With Amon's true self awakened, his power surged beyond any familiar threshold. It did not merely increase—it ascended.
The Nine Moons blazed with transcendental radiance, their cold light no longer purely mystical but tinged with unmistakable divinity.
Moonlight thickened, carrying weight and authority, as if the heavens themselves were acknowledging his existence.
At the same time, Amon's soul began to evolve. The invisible ceiling that had bound every human before him wavered, its edges fracturing as the distinction between mortal and immortal blurred into irrelevance. For the first time, a human stood in a place that had never been meant for humanity.
Amon raised Nyx, its obsidian surface drowned in deep silver radiance, while his pupils turned completely metallic, reflecting nothing but moonlight.
He swung the blade with almost insulting leisure—like a master demonstrating a basic form to an apprentice.
And yet, from that gentle arc came annihilation.
