The news of Amon's recovery rippled through the Crown Estate like a tide of pure relief. Arnold abandoned his duties at the capital to rush home, and Emilia immediately halted her ducal affairs. The atmosphere of the manor, which had been stifling and grim for days, finally began to breathe again.
Amon remained in bed, but he wasn't alone. Sophia clung to him, her head buried in the crook of his neck as if letting go would cause him to vanish into thin air.
As Amon sat there, he caught his reflection in a hand-held mirror. The change was jarring. His raven-black hair had been bleached into an ethereal, ghostly white. But it was his eyes that truly stole his attention. His irises now held a faint, rhythmic blood-red glow, and at the very centre of his pupils sat a small, intricate shape: a skull.
The innocent charm of a young boy was gone. In its place was something mysterious and unnerving—a beauty that felt like a warning.
He stared at the skulls in his eyes, realising they were the outward manifestation of the [Mark of Death]. He looked at his hands, searching for a sign of the [Mark of the Sword], but found nothing. It had clearly manifested elsewhere, and he would look at it later.
"Don't you ever pull a stunt like that again," Arnold scolded, though the edge of his voice was blunted by sheer relief. "If something had happened to you... if we had lost you..."
"Father, I am a Crown," Amon interrupted, his voice faint but anchored by his usual calm confidence. "A Crown doesn't let himself be put down by a pack of bottom-feeders."
"Your father is right, my child," Emilia added. She moved to the bedside, her fingers threading through his new, snow-white hair with a mother's tenderness. "Confidence is a shield, but overconfidence is a poison. It will cost you everything if you aren't careful."
"I'll keep that in mind, Mother," he nodded, leaning into her touch.
In that moment, the lines between Amon and Park blurred. The warmth of the room and the synchronised worry of his parents struck a chord of deep, aching nostalgia. In his previous life, his parents had looked at him with that same mixture of frustration and unconditional love whenever he'd pushed himself too far.
Whether it was fate or a cruel coincidence of the soul, Park could see their reflections shimmering in the people standing before him now. For the first time since his reincarnation, the world didn't feel like a novel—it felt like home.
"I am... sorry," Amon admitted, his voice barely a whisper as he stared down at the bedsheets. "For making you all worry so much."
"It's alright, my child," Emilia said softly. Her hand never stopped its rhythmic, soothing motion through his hair. "You wanted to prove yourself to us—to make us proud. And you have done that tenfold. More than we ever could have asked."
Arnold moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing a heavy, grounding hand on Amon's shoulder. "At an age where you should be tucked safely under our protection, you risked everything for the sake of our proud faces. We are proud, Amon—beyond words—but never sacrifice yourself on the altar of our pride. You are our son, not a weapon created for reputation."
"Up until now, I've viewed the world around me like a script—a story where the pages were already written," Amon thought, his gaze drifting between his parents' faces. Their expressions weren't just descriptions on a page; they were raw, visceral, and terrifyingly real.
The realisation settled in his chest, heavier than the pain of meeting the Red King. This was his reality. Every cold calculation and "efficient" sacrifice had real, bleeding consequences for the people in this room.
"I need to stop treating life like a game of strategy," he decided, a new kind of resolve hardening behind his skull-etched irises. "If I'm going to use my ingenuity, it shouldn't just be to win—it should be to protect. I won't let my 'brilliance' be the thing that destroys the people who love me."
. . .
[No Longer Human]
Rank:SS
Skill Type:Special
Effects:
Limitless State:Pushes physical and mental prowess beyond human limitations.
Growth Gift:Each activation permanently increases Magium refinement, Intelligence, and Magium capacity.
Mad Mind:A byproduct of Infinite Knowledge synchronisation. Allows the user to access knowledge on anything.
Drawbacks:Active duration is capped at 2 hours. Exceeding this limit results in severe migraines. Attempting to peer into the future will rapidly degrade the user's sanity. Caution is advised.
Amon stared at the translucent window, his surprise mirrored in the faint glow of the interface. Masha hadn't been exaggerating when she said she had polished the system; the UI was crisp, and the new [Mad Mind] effect was staggering.
He had effectively weaponised the very curse the Red King had used to shatter him. The infinite knowledge was now filtered, accessible whenever he willed it. The restriction on the future was a fair trade—as long as he could strip the secrets from the past and the present, he didn't need a prophecy.
"I'd like to credit Masha for the [Mad Mind] effect, but this doesn't feel like her handiwork," Amon mused, his eyes narrowing as he analysed the logic of the interface. "This is the System's handiwork."
The realisation was grimly poetic. The System had recognised the total sacrifice of [Sinner's Desire]—the skill that had burned itself away to ensure Amon's survival against the encounter with the Red King. As a compensation for that loss, it had reached into the abyss, snatched the very curse that should have ended him, and handed it back as a prize. The Red King's madness had been distilled into a tool.
"What a sadist," Amon thought, a cold shiver of amusement running through him.
The System recycled the trauma, taking his near-death experience and transforming it into his greatest asset, ensuring that he would never truly be able to leave the shadow of the Red King behind.
"Let's test it out, shall we?" A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
With a sharp mental click, Amon triggered the skill. The [Limitless State] washed over him instantly—a familiar surge of clarity and power that made the world feel slow and fragile. But he wasn't here for the physical rush.
"I should start with something I already know," he thought, a specific question surfacing in his mind. "Why was the Assessment Ceremony cancelled?"
<< "The Assessment Ceremony was cancelled due to Emilia Von Crown deeming the proceeding unnecessary." >>
The voice that echoed in his mind was female, but devoid of life—flat, mechanical, and absolute. Amon's smirk widened; the tool was functional. Now, he pushed deeper.
"Why did Emilia feel it was unnecessary, despite it being an old tradition of the Crown Family?"
<< "Emilia Von Crown concluded the ceremony and subsequent testing were redundant after she became aware that her son, Amon Von Crown, had awakened a powerful special skill using his inherent skill, which was validated by the Holy Empire's Priestess, Kaya Kanto, who reported the inherent skill's type and SS-Rank status following the creation of [No Longer Human]." >>
"Absolutely correct," Amon murmured, but the smirk died on his lips as quickly as it had formed.
A nagging shadow flickered in the back of his mind, growing until it obscured his satisfaction. He began to replay the mission, not as a triumph, but as a series of near-catastrophic gambles.
His quest to secure the Leone family's loyalty had been paid for in blood—not just his own, but the lives of the guards who had died defending a "kidnapping" he had intentionally allowed to happen.
Worse, his own intellectual greed—his curiosity regarding the spatial crack in that damp Aimus cell—had almost derailed the entire operation. He had stood on the edge of an abyss, staring at a horror he wasn't prepared for, all because he wanted to see.
"I called it brilliant," Amon thought, his hands tightening on the bedsheets. "But was it?"
Was it a masterstroke of genius, or was it the recklessness of someone who still thought that he was in a novel, not in reality?
<< "The logic behind the quest [Leones' Favourite] was flawless. The failure lies in the execution. The avoidable loss of allied escort lives and the indulgence of curiosity regarding the spatial crack were critical tactical flaws." >>
The mechanical voice didn't just provide an answer; it shattered his ego.
Hearing his own ego dismantled by that flat, emotionless tone completely shattered Amon's composure. The "brilliance" he had prided himself on was exposed for what it truly was: a lethal combination of arrogance and detachment.
Tears began to blur his vision as the faces of the guards—people whose names he hadn't even bothered to learn—flashed through his mind. They weren't background assets or cannon fodder. They were people with homes to return to and families who were, at this very moment, mourning deaths that he had orchestrated for a quest reward.
His selfishness hadn't just cost lives; it had destroyed families. And his final mistake, his idle curiosity at the cell, had nearly forced his own family to join that circle of grief. The weight of it was suffocating.
"Why..."
The word was a broken whisper. As the true cost of his "perfect plan" settled in, the tears he had tried to suppress finally tracked through the dust and fatigue on his face. "Why did I do this?"
A sharp, rhythmic knock on the door cut through his spiralling thoughts. Amon flinched, his hands flying to his face to scrub away the evidence of his breakdown.
"It's me, my child," Emilia's voice drifted through the woods, gentle yet firm. She pushed the door open before he could find his voice.
Amon forced his features into a mask of composure, offering her a faint, practised smile as she crossed the room. But as she drew closer, the golden light of the afternoon caught the damp streaks he hadn't managed to hide.
Emilia stopped at the edge of the bed. Her eyes locked onto the faint marks on his cheeks.
"How are you feeling, my child?" she asked, her smile kind and steady. She chose not to press the issue of the tears immediately, giving him the space to find his footing.
"I... I have been feeling well, Mother," Amon replied. He kept the smile fixed on his face, but it felt increasingly brittle under her gaze.
"That is good to know." Emilia moved to the bedside and sat beside him.
A heavy, lingering silence filled the room. It wasn't the comfortable quiet of a shared moment, but a dense, suffocating weight that made Amon's skin crawl. He felt exposed, as if her silence was peeling back his layers one by one.
"We are only human, Amon," Emilia spoke at last, her voice a soft anchor in the quiet. "And as humans, we are defined by our limitations." She reached out, her fingers gently threading through his white hair.
"Why... why are you telling me this, Mother?" he asked, his voice barely audible.
"Because I do not want you to be crushed by the burden of your mistakes," she replied, a motherly smile tugging at her lips. "If anything, those mistakes are a reflection of my own failure—my inability to show you how proud I already was. You felt you had to reach for the impossible to earn what you already had."
"No... Mother, that isn't it..." He choked on the words, his composure finally disintegrating. "It's because of me... those guards... they're dead because I wanted to be clever. It was my arrogance that—"
The words caught in his throat, sharp as glass. The guilt was a physical pressure, a hand around his windpipe that wouldn't let him breathe.
Emilia didn't hesitate. She pulled him into a fierce embrace, her hand rubbing his back in slow, grounding circles. "My child, listen to me. Humans are inherently selfish, foolish creatures. The errors you made are exactly what make you one of us. Yes, lives were lost. Families are broken." She held him tighter, refusing to let him retreat into himself.
"Raul was right," Emilia thought, the weight of her son's trembling frame against her chest confirming the Emperor's warning. "The blood of those escorts, and the cost of his own curiosity... It's tearing him apart from the inside."
Her mind drifted back to their final conversation before leaving the Holy Empire. The Emperor, Raul Reinhardt, had pulled her aside, his golden eyes devoid of their usual warmth.
He had spoken with the chilling clarity of [God's Insight], laying bare the shadow falling over Amon's heart. He had warned her that the brilliance of the boy's plan carried a poison—one that could shatter his spirit entirely.
Emilia had looked the Holy Emperor in the eye then, her voice ironclad. She had promised him that she would not allow her son's heart to darken—that she would not let him drown in the wake of his own ambition.
"What matters most is the realisation," Emilia whispered, her voice a steady anchor in the storm of his grief. "You have looked at the cost of your choices, and you have let it hurt you. That pain is the only thing that proves you are still whole. If you wish to stop hurting, then you must ensure you never make these same mistakes again."
Amon buried his face in her shoulder, his body racked by uncontrollable sobs. To a casual observer, the sight of him weeping like a broken child might have looked pathetic. But Amon had been through a crucible that would have vaporised a lesser soul.
The weight of Infinite Knowledge had been violently forced into his psyche, and though the Head Priestess had mended the fractured edges of his sanity, the core was permanently scorched. That trauma, combined with the realisation that his arrogant logic had extinguished the lives of those who had a family to return to, finally collapsed the walls he had built.
<< "The critical flaws in the mission resulted from a detachment from reality. Had the user prioritised realism over theatricality, these outcomes would have been avoided. To ensure that flaws like that never happen, the user must internalise a fundamental truth: every action has its consequences. While this world may serve as entertainment for those on a higher plane of existence, for the user, it is a visceral reality." >>
The mechanical voice was a jagged blade, stripping away the last of his delusions. The words were harsh—merciless—but they were undeniably true.
"Never... again..." The promise took root in the scarred parts of his mind.
. . .
As the golden rays of the morning filtered through the open windows, the light struck Amon's face. He groaned, his body twitching instinctively as he tried to roll away from the intrusion. Sophia had already made her move, sweeping through the room and flinging back every curtain until the chamber was flooded with an unforgiving brightness.
"Amon, wake up!" Sophia commanded, giving him a firm shove. "It's already seven! The sun is practically begging you at this point!"
"No... let me sleep..." he muttered, his voice muffled as he blindly scavenged for the blankets to bury himself in a dark cocoon.
"Did you already forget?" Sophia stood over him, hands on her hips, looking genuinely bewildered. "Father promised to take us shopping after breakfast."
"You... can go without me..." he groaned from beneath the fabric. "I need sleep more than I need new things. Go. Be free."
"Yeah, no. I am not going without you," Sophia countered instantly. She reached down and gripped the edge of the duvet. "Now, get up!"
With her raw strength, she yanked the blankets back with such explosive force that Amon was launched right off the mattress. He hit the floor with a dull thud, staring up at the ceiling in a daze of betrayal.
"You do realise that I only regained consciousness yesterday, right?" Amon asked, tilting his head back to glare up at her. His expression was a masterpiece of mild annoyance. "Medical advice generally suggests at least a week of rest, not a marathon through the capital's shopping district."
"I know," Sophia replied, her chin held high and her eyes sparkling with a stubborn, frantic kind of excitement. "But Father is taking us out, and I get to have you all to myself for the whole day without any interruptions. I am not missing that, even if it means sacrificing your nap time!"
Amon sighed, pushing himself up from the floor. His joints let out a symphony of pops and cracks as he stretched out the stiffness of a three-day coma. He looked at his sister, his smile twisting into something wry and exasperated.
"Sophia, you are practically attached to my arm in this house," he pointed out. "I can't even go to the bathroom without you trying to be in there with me. How much more of me do you actually need?"
"More than that," she chirped, her beam so bright that it made Amon's skin crawl with unease.
"What is it with the girls in this world?" Amon thought, sidestepping his sister and making a beeline for the bathroom. "Was Costoria the only normal person I met at that party?"
<< "Correction: Costoria Leone is fundamentally abnormal. At nine years of age, her cognitive processing far exceeds the standard developmental curve. During your previous engagement, she correctly identified your A-rank status as an anomaly in the history of the Riversong Empire—a deduction fueled by her extensive consumption of various historical texts. Furthermore, she has developed a burgeoning obsession with the user, officially revoking her 'normal' status." >>
"...I'm not even going to ask how you're talking," Amon frowned internally. "But how did that last part happen? I figured her intelligence was just the result of elite tutoring. All high-ranking heirs are raised like that from birth."
<< "The user is being willfully dense. As previously stated, her intellect is exceptional, and the user is a moron if the catalyst for her obsession remains unclear. You rescued her from a hostile force and displayed overwhelming combat prowess. In the narrative logic of this world—and most others—that is a guaranteed trigger." >>
"Why does this feel like a scene from an anime?" Amon wondered as he finally reached the bathroom and turned the lock with a satisfying click, effectively barring Sophia's entry.
<< "That is because it is a scene from—actually, I cannot name the specific series without risking copyright infringement across the multi-dimensional plane." >>
"Damn... I keep forgetting," Amon sighed, staring at his new white-haired reflection in the mirror. "This is real to me, but to the entities upstairs, I'm just a character from the entertainment they're enjoying."