Chapter 506: The Amon Clan
The cool night breeze swept across the seemingly abandoned residence, stirring clouds of dust along the cracked stone path as a solitary figure approached the massive gates.
The man wore a long black cloak that fluttered violently behind him, its hood pulled low enough to conceal most of his face. The residence itself looked as though it had been forgotten for decades.
.Dry leaves from the trees had accumulated across the courtyard, weeds had overtaken portions of the garden, and several of the decorative structures had been allowed to deteriorate beneath the passage of time.
The silence was almost deafening, broken only by the occasional creaking of old wood and the whisper of the wind passing through the branches. To anyone who happened upon the place, it would have been easy to assume that the villa had been abandoned by its former occupants. That assumption, however, could not have been further from the truth.
The moment the cloaked figure reached the entrance, the enormous gates slowly creaked open by themselves. He stepped through without hesitation, and the gates immediately swung shut behind him with a heavy thud that echoed through the deserted courtyard.
Damian had barely taken another step when the darkness around him moved.
Swooosh!
A blade shot directly toward his face, its polished edge reflecting the pale moonlight as it crossed the distance between them. Damian’s hands moved almost casually, his two fingers catching the flat of the blade just inches from his face. The impact generated a powerful shockwave that swept across the courtyard, scattering dry leaves and forcing Damian’s cloak to whip violently behind him, yet the hood covering his head did not even fall away.
His amused eyes remained fixed on the young figure at the other end of the weapon. The attacker was a purple skinned demon with his eyes completely covered with a piece of cloth, immediately identifying him as a member of the Damika clan.
Long black earrings hung beside his face, swaying from the force of the impact, while his clothing resembled ancient Persian garments befitting a prince. A curved scimitar rested in his hand, its shape distinctly different from the straight swords commonly carried by Underworld warriors. The young demon’s posture was refined, and despite the failed attack, there was an obvious confidence in the way he held himself.
"Hmph!" The young demon snorted proudly as he ripped his blade away from Damian’s fingers and immediately began moving backward.
His feet shifted left and right in rapid succession as he danced across the dusty courtyard, the scimitar moving fluidly with each step. There was no hesitation in his movements. He was not simply swinging wildly. Every motion appeared calculated, and his unusual footwork made his body difficult to predict. Suddenly, he sprang forward.
The scimitar thrust toward Damian’s chest with explosive speed, and several afterimages of the blade appeared around him as the young demon changed the angle of his attack repeatedly. Yet Damian’s body moved almost lazily in comparison.
His torso jerked slightly to one side, then backward, then forward again, each movement perfectly timed to avoid the incoming strikes. Several afterimages of his own remained behind him as he moved, making it appear as though multiple versions of Damian were standing around the courtyard.
The young demon’s expression tightened beneath his blindfold as every attack missed by the narrowest possible margin. He suddenly changed his rhythm and lunged forward with considerably more force, believing he had finally predicted Damian’s movement.
His blade struck empty air.
"What?" he gasped, the sudden absence of resistance throwing his balance off for the briefest moment.
The young demon’s head lifted instinctively, only for the moonlight above him to disappear. A towering shadow had fallen over his body, and when he slowly looked upward, Damian was standing directly above him. The cloaked figure seemed almost impossibly tall from his position, his pale face still hidden partially beneath the hood while his glowing purple eyes stared down at him.
"Your sword technique is not bad. In fact, I would say I cannot compete with you in that aspect. You are just far too weak to threaten me if not it the outcome would have been in your favor." Damian’s voice remained calm, almost conversational.
He had not even drawn a weapon throughout the exchange. The statement struck the young demon’s pride far harder than any physical attack could have.
"Bastard!" The young demon growled as his face twisted with anger.
He spun around with the momentum of his entire body, bringing the scimitar around in a vicious horizontal arc aimed directly at Damian’s neck. The blade moved with enough force to generate another shockwave, and this time the young demon clearly intended to prove that Damian’s earlier assessment had been wrong.
"ENOUGH SHIN!" Amon’s voice suddenly boomed across the residence.
Swoosh!
Shin’s blade stopped inches away from Damian’s neck. His arm froze in place as the Amon’s voice reached him, and the force behind his swing still generated a sharp gust that finally knocked Damian’s hood backward.
His long black hair spilled into the moonlight, revealing his corpse pale face and glowing purple eyes. Shin’s expression immediately changed when he saw the man standing before him clearly for the first time. The arrogance that had filled his posture moments earlier began to disappear as recognition slowly replaced it.
The entrance to the residence opened, and Amon stepped out from within the darkness. The moment his eyes landed upon Damian, his entire demeanor changed. He immediately dropped to one knee and bowed deeply, his head lowered toward the ground.
"Sire, forgive my son’s impudence!" Amon’s voice carried genuine respect as he remained kneeling before Damian.
Almost immediately, movement could be seen throughout the abandoned residence. Figures emerged from behind trees, the shadows of the buildings and from concealed positions around the courtyard.
One after another, several demigod figures revealed themselves, each previously hidden so perfectly that an ordinary intruder would never have known they were there. They scattered throughout the residence in a defensive formation before simultaneously cupping their fists and dropping to one knee.
Shin’s eyes slowly widened as he stared at Damian’s exposed face. The realization finally struck him with overwhelming force.
The handsome, pale face before him belonged to the very Prince he had just attacked. His grip loosened unconsciously, and his scimitar slipped from his fingers before striking the ground with a metallic clang.
Shin immediately cupped his fists and dropped onto both knees, lowering his head toward the ground. He intended to slam his forehead against the stone in apology, but before he could do so, a mild purple demonic force appeared around his head and stopped the movement completely.
"Don’t hurt yourself over trivial things. I learned a lot from our little spar," Damian said in an emotionless voice.
The demonic force around Shin’s head vanished, allowing him to remain kneeling without injuring himself. Damian then turned his attention toward Amon, and a small smile slowly bloomed across his otherwise expressionless face.
"You have done a good work keeping your face hidden up until now."
Amon nodded firmly, remaining on one knee. "I was only following your Majesty’s orders."
Damian responded with a simple nod, but his eyes soon wandered beyond Amon toward the several figures kneeling throughout the residence. He had known they were there the moment he stepped into the villa.
The concealment techniques being used were impressive, but his ring had already stripped away the uncertainty surrounding their positions. What surprised him was their identities. When he had been told that Amon’s clan was not truly a traditional clan but rather a coalition of demigods who had gathered around Amon because they believed in him, Damian had expected some degree of uniformity.
Instead, the seven demigods kneeling around the courtyard appeared to belong to completely different races and backgrounds.
Damian’s eyes moved slowly from one figure to another, quietly studying them. There were seven of them in total, and none appeared to share the same racial heritage.
His gaze eventually returned to Amon, who remained kneeling before him with absolute composure. Damian’s small smile returned as he finally understood the significance of what he was seeing.