The fact that this inferior lifeform injured him infuriated the Demon Prince Vol'giman.
For an existence that was considered minuscule on the universal level, it would be a miracle if he could even scratch his skin. But for Amon to actually injure and cut off his arm? Vol'giman felt absolutely appalled.
But more than appalled, he felt an emotion he hadn't felt in thousands of years… thrill.
As the apex predator of the Demon Realm, few could stand toe-to-toe with him. Even when he weakened himself as a professional handicap, they would all wither and fall before even crossing fists with him. Such was the curse of the strong.
Always untouched, with nary a thrill.
Vol'giman was such an existence.
So when Amon managed to draw so of his blood… the Demon Prince felt excitent. Only by facing a foe that could put his life on the line could Vol'giman feel his heart rate accelerate. As if reacting to his intense emotions, the mana surrounding the crimson Demon Prince intensified and the pressure he emitted created fractures in the fabric of reality.
He'd forgotten why he was summoned in the first place.
All the Demon Prince wished for… was to fight to his heart's content.
[Inferior creature… You're right… There's no need for words between us…]
As a battle maniac, the Vol'giman was the epito of a musclehead. He preferred to talk with his fists.
Therefore…
Flas erupted like a ga-volcano as the Demon Prince finally cast aside all restraint. Drenched in the pure energies of the Solaris House, he replenished his strength and allowed the full weight of his dominance to spill into the world.
Solfea scread in response—earthquakes tore through the land as towering infernos and flaming tornadoes swept across the plains.
What had once been fertile fields was reduced to a hellscape rivaling even the Demon Realm itself. The heat alone would have reduced most beings to ash, even those who carried the Golden Dragon Progenitor's bloodline at its purest.
This was no ordinary fla.
Hellfire from the Demon Realm was fundantally different from anything Hyades had ever known.
At a glance, it burned a searing crimson—but stare too deeply into the blaze, and one would find themselves swallowed by an abyss of pure black. It was power made manifest, absurd in its intensity, surpassing anything Amon had ever faced.
Yet he did not retreat.
No… he could not retreat.
Not when the Solaris House was under attack.
The Nine Moons oscillated around him, their cold radiance forming a silent bastion as Amon allowed the final gauge sealing his power to unravel. When he ascended with the Nine Moons, a faint dissonance stirred within him.
His Solaris mana remained bound to the Seven Suns—yet sohow, impossibly, it fused with his lunar power in flawless harmony.
It made no sense.
Harmony demanded equilibrium, but the scales were anything but balanced.
That was when Amon realised the truth. His lunar mana had been accelerating all this ti, far outpacing his solar power, growing increasingly unstable—and increasingly dominant.
The reason was obvious in hindsight.
Amon had been born of the moon. His solar mana existed only because Yue had brought him before Yval to awaken his bloodline.
It was acquired, not innate.
But his true self had always been lunar. His body, his soul, even the contours of his mind—everything reflected the cold, dazzling moonlight.
That was why he had placed a temporary seal upon himself, believing he could slow the accumulation, believing he was saving his body from inevitable destruction. But Amon had been operating under a single, fatal misunderstanding.
No matter how much lunar mana he unleashed… he would never perish.
Why?
"Dusk!"
Amon unleashed the full force of the Nine Moons, and the two powers collided in a cataclysmic clash.
Though solar mana proved ineffective against the Demon Prince, lunar mana was its perfect antithesis.
When Amon's power t Vol'giman's, the impact sent shockwaves tearing through Solfea. Forests in the surrounding area were erased in an instant—trees either reduced to nothingness or entombed in sudden frost.
Amon's eyes turned entirely silver as a colossal moon manifested behind him, dominating the sky.
From its radiance erged a silver-haired goddess, her otherworldly visage and transcendent form far beyond mortal comprehension. When Amon had first summoned her in battle, he had given her little thought, believing her to be nothing more than an echo of his mana—an apparition shaped to obey his will.
This ti was different.
With the Nine Moons fully unleashed, Amon could feel her emotions as clearly as his own. She was weeping—not in sorrow or pain, but in hope and quiet joy, as though she had been waiting for this very mont across untold ages.
There was no ti to dwell on the aning of it.
Amon released everything.
His Lunar Mystic Arts unfolded in full.
[Dusk] birthed a world claid by the moon, where darkness reigned—and within that darkness, the light of the mighty erged.
[Moonlight Sanctum] ford a tranquil arena of starlight and moonbeams, towering pillars of silver illumination rising from the ground.
[Reflections] awakened the mirror lake beneath his feet, drawing forth a perfect clone from its surface—one that mirrored every movent, every intent.
And finally…
[Lunar Blade]... Amon's signature art.
His most trusted technique.
Nyx humd in response as dense silver moonlight wrapped around its obsidian edge, the blade singing with restrained annihilation.
"You were by my side all along… My guiding moonlight… My divine presence… My… soul."
All his life, Amon saw himself as the transmigrator, a re presence in this book that didn't belong. But as he felt his Nine Moons resonated with the planet's energies, Amon was dealt a shocking realisation: his soul had always been part of Hyades.
No, his soul was always part of this planet.
Amon didn't understand it yet, but as he swung his blade, there was sothing else present within his silver aura. Sothing that no one other than the Goddess should have.
Divinity.
The laws of the planet bent around his blade, and he was free from any restraint. Gravity, spaceti, energy… they weren't a factor to Amon.
From the very beginning, the Lunar Blade in his arms was ant to be the antithesis of all creation. The arbiter of justice. The executioner of the gods.
And well, Amon wasn't going to be given much ti to assimilate.
The Demon Prince noticed the shift instantly and surged forward. His flaming fist blazed with a warrior's exhilaration as he threw a punch powerful enough to boil oceans dry.
Fire collided with Amon's silver blade—and for the first ti, the fledgling Judicator was overpowered. Amon was hurled backwards, his body hurtling toward the ground. Only his aura's absolute denial of inertia spared him from impact.
But even so that simple attack was enough to drain his strength and stamina. No matter how much Amon had grown in this short ti, he still couldn't compare to the millions of years that Vol'giman had under his belt.
Alas, even if he had to take down the sky… Amon had to try.
Twisting midair into a clean backflip, he regained his footing and poured more mana into his Lunar Blade. The silver light condensed, sharpening into a vicious crescent slash that seed to embody the very laws of annihilation.
Vol'giman sensed the danger at once.
As a god of another realm, instinct alone was enough.
Rather than et the strike head-on, he evaded and countered in the sa motion.
The sky darkened.
Thousands of crimson magic circles tore through the Moonlight Sanctum, eclipsing its gentle radiance. From them descended blazing teors—fireballs each capable of reducing entire cities to ash. Vol'giman laughed maniacally and willed them to fall.
But Amon vanished.
Slipping into the void and riding the laws of spaceti, he bypassed the catastrophic bombardnt entirely.
The Demon Prince paused, reaching out with his senses—only to find a black blade already closing in from the front.
Frowning, Vol'giman slamd his fist forward, conjuring a roaring barrier of hellfire that crashed into Amon's blade and blasted him away.
What he did not know… was that [Lunar Blade] transcended space and ti.
Amon's silver aura ignored the barrier altogether, slicing cleanly through Vol'giman's fist. Blood sprayed—the third ti he had been wounded.
The Demon Prince's smile twisted into a grotesque roar. With a single thought, he expanded his domain, forcibly dominating all energies within its bounds.
The laws shifted. Spaceti itself was shackled, rendering Amon's Lunar Blade unable to bypass reality again.
But Amon did not retreat.
Was it stubbornness or resilience? He surged back into the sky and attempted the sa manoeuvre once more.
Vol'giman snorted, irritation flashing across his features. He raised the sa flaming barrier, confident this ti.
And indeed, Nyx's energy failed to pierce it.
The Demon Prince smiled, believing the advantage was his.
Then agony tore across his back. He spun around to see Amon's [Reflections], mirroring the very sa attack—this ti unhindered, having struck where no defence had been raised.
Vol'giman's expression warped before he threw his head back and laughed, the sound shaking dinsions themselves.
As expected.
At long last… this was a battle worthy of excitent in his immortal life.
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