999,999+ Max Stat: Even the Gods Can't Stop Me

Chapter 22: Chapter 22: Shadows of the First Witch

The ground still smoked where the hybrid had hit it. Chunks of sanctified armor and broken wings and feathers littered the torn-up field like somebody had dropped a cathedral from orbit.

Amon stood in the middle of it, brushing dust off his sleeves and pants, like the fight had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience. He looked around, his golden eyes scanning the mess once, then flicked away.

"I thought sending him straight through three realms, right to his brother, was mercy," Amon said. "But his angels didn’t think the same way I did. Shame."

Claude leaned against what remained of a tree, looking around the gold-and-blood-soaked mess, trying not to puke. His Vatican jacket was torn at the shoulder and smelled like ozone and blood.

"You drowning the archangel Raphael in hell, what did it cost? I felt it. Like the world burped. The walls thinning out. More inconvenience will occur now.

Hunters, witches, regular humans with a spark, they’re all going to wake up tomorrow and find out more beasts and demons are back on the menu.

Are you happy with that?"

Amon gave a small shrug. "The world was getting quiet. Let everything run wild for a bit. Chaos keeps things interesting. It keeps things easy for me."

Claude laughed, but it came out shaky. "Interesting. Everything is unstable as fuck. You just created a whole new faction that hates both sides and probably us most of all."

"I know, fun, right?" Amon said. He cracked his neck. "Angels, demons. Two sides of the same tired coin. You can’t blame me for one morphing into another."

They walked back to the beat-up silver sedan Amon had insisted on renting. "Blend in," he had said earlier. As if a guy who glowed faintly gold and moved like liquid violence could blend into anything.

Claude slid behind the wheel now, knuckles white, while Amon dropped into the passenger seat and immediately reclined it all the way back.

"Destination?" Claude asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"Green Mountain National Forest. Saratoga Springs side. The so-called Mother of Shadows is waiting."

There was a pause there, like he didn’t quite understand what he’d said.

"Are you... sure?"

"Drive."

Claude started the engine. "The First Witch, huh. Did you even go see her? You barely messaged me..."

"A few times." Amon took a long pull from the flask, dipping into that strong scent of vodka.

"Last time, she swore she’d wrap me in shadows that eat souls from the inside out. Said it would take centuries, but she would do it nonetheless, and she was crying while she said it."

Pause.

Claude nearly drove off the road. "What the hell did you do to her?"

"Nothing she didn’t ask for at the time." Amon capped the flask. "She still has something I need though. Another key. Hope she didn’t lose it or give it to some cultist, like somebody I know..."

Claude gulped, knowing who he was trying to mention. Yes, he had given the key to the Vatican. But he’d had no choice back then.

The road turned from pavement to gravel, then to dirt. Trees pressed in closer as night settled hard over the mountains.

Headlights cut narrow tunnels through the dark. Claude kept glancing at the rearview mirror like he expected something to crawl out of it. He was ready for everything except ghosts. Anything but ghosts.

"You know the stories, right?" Claude said quietly. "She’s named the First Witch for a reason. You taught her things that weren’t your place to teach. Now shadows answer to her like dogs.

And taking your knowledge, she taught the first covens, bound the first demons, cursed bloodlines that still exist. And in the end, she hates you."

"Wait, she doesn’t hate me," Amon corrected. "She’s pissed at me. It’s a whole different thing."

Claude muttered a quick prayer under his breath. "I left the Vatican because of shit like this. Now I’m driving straight into the lair of the original nightmare fuel with the guy who started most of the nightmares."

Amon chuckled. It was a low, dry sound. "You complain a lot for somebody who keeps following me."

"Because every time I try to walk away, something worse shows up! Remember the thing in Detroit? Or the flooded cathedral in Venice? You’re a walking apocalypse magnet."

The forest grew thicker. Branches scraped the roof of the car like fingernails, when a howl suddenly rolled through the trees, low, long.

It didn’t sound much like any animal Claude had ever heard.

"Turn back, travelers," a voice rasped, dry as dead leaves and twice as sharp.

It came from everywhere and nowhere. "This forest devours the unworthy. Death awaits those who tread here lightly."

Claude couldn’t take it and slammed on the brakes. The car skidded to a stop. His heart hammered against his ribs. "Nope. Hard pass. We come back tomorrow when the sun is bright and the Lord is anew. With full backup, like holy water. Maybe a tactical nuke."

Amon was already opening the door. "Relax. It’s just her version of a doorbell. This is actually quite a welcome."

"You... you smiled at that," Claude said, voice cracking. "You actually smiled at the death threat. I know you’re unkillable, but I’m going to die tonight, and my last memory is going to be your stupid golden smirk."

"Only if you stay in the car talking to yourself." Amon stepped out and stretched like he was at a rest stop on a road trip. And, like his body was resistant to darkness, the golden glow around him pushed back the darkness a few feet.

Claude sighed, killed the engine, muttered every curse he knew in Latin, and got out.

"These barriers you cracked, I want some serious answers if you care..." Claude said, trying to keep his voice steady. "What really happens when they get thinner? Hybrids like those everywhere. New monsters crawling out of the cracks. Witches forming real covens again instead of playing pretend on TikTok."

Amon stepped over a fallen log that looked suspiciously like it had teeth marks. "You’re right to be worried. I don’t know how to butter things up, so I’ll say it straight: some will die. Some will get stronger, like mortals always do. This... Second Renaissance, let’s say, will start messy."

"Second Renaissance," Claude repeated. "You make it sound like a party..."

"I want humans to be stronger..." Amon said simply. "I’ve been around long enough. Protected everyone long enough. Someday I might not be. So this is better."

A shadow detached from a tree ahead and slithered across the path like black oil. It formed a vague human shape for a moment, then dissolved with a sound like laughter.

Claude saw it clearly, his hand going to the gun under his jacket, while Amon didn’t even slow down.

"Remember when you told me you were done with the Vatican?" Amon asked suddenly.

"Yeah."

"You lasted three weeks before you tracked me down in Prague."

Claude glared at the back of Amon’s head. "Because an angel tried to wear my damn skin. Couldn’t do much back then."

"Life’s full of those around me."

The path narrowed. Trees leaned in until their branches formed a tunnel. The air tasted metallic, like old blood and storm clouds.

"This place is alive. I sense heavy Ember here," Claude muttered.

"It is," Amon said. "She made it that way. An extension of herself. Good security system, if I might say."

They walked for what felt like hours but was probably only twenty minutes. Time got slippery under the canopy. Claude’s flashlight beam kept getting swallowed by pockets of darkness that refused to reflect light.

Then the trees opened into a small clearing. In the center stood a circle of standing stones, each one carved with symbols that hurt to look at directly. At the far side, a woman waited.

She was tall, pale, with hair like liquid midnight that moved even when there was no wind. Her eyes were pure black, no whites.

A cloak of living shadows wrapped around her shoulders, shifting and whispering. In her right hand, she held a blade made of solidified night, its edge flickering like it was cutting reality itself.

Amon stopped ten feet away. Claude froze behind him.

"Still running from duty, Master?" the First Witch said. Her voice was the same one that had warned them earlier, but now it carried real weight. Real anger. "You break the world open, then come asking for favors again?"

Amon tilted his head. "Good to see you too, Liliana. You look exactly the same, and also as dramatic as ever."

Her eyes narrowed. The shadows around the clearing surged forward, forming blades and claws that hovered inches from Amon’s throat and chest.

Claude’s mouth went dry. He wanted to run. He wanted to shoot something. But he did neither.

"You owe me a key," Amon said calmly, like there wasn’t a shadow blade ready to decapitate him. "I’m here to collect."

"Ha! The key? You want it back? What might the reason be?"

It was not a nice sound. "You punch holes in reality, create an army of screaming hybrids, thin the walls between realms, and think I’ll just hand it over? After what you did last time?"

"What I did last time kept you alive, Liliana," Amon replied. His voice stayed even, but something colder moved behind his eyes. "Or did you forget the deal we made when the first covens burned?"

The shadow blade pressed harder, but it could not pierce his skin.

Claude swallowed. "Maybe we can talk about this like—"

"Quiet, you!" Liliana snapped. A tendril of shadow whipped out and wrapped around Claude’s throat, lifting him two inches off the ground, gradually choking him, his hands scrabbling at nothing.

Amon’s expression didn’t change, but the air around him grew heavy. "Put him down, Liliana. He’s with me. He’s like you, a disciple."

She studied Claude for a moment, then dropped him. Claude hit the dirt hard, coughing.

"Huh, another brother? You take in strays now," she said. "How far you’ve fallen."

Amon took one step forward, and the shadow blades followed, staying pressed against him but bending away, unable to even scratch him. "The key. Then we can catch up on old times. Or we can fight again. Your choice."

"You want the key?" Liliana said softly. "Then you’ll earn it. The old way... Master."

The standing stones lit up with cold purple fire. Shadows surged out of the ground, forming walls that rose higher and higher, cutting off the path behind them. A labyrinth took shape around the clearing, twisting passages of living darkness.

Amon sighed. "Haaa... always with the tests."

Liliana smiled, and it was terrifying. "Enter my shadow realm, Master. Show me how much I have improved, if you survive, that is... and after that, maybe I’ll give you the key. Maybe I’ll kill you instead."

She raised her hand. The world folded in on itself.

Claude scrambled to his feet, heart pounding. "Wait—!"

Too late. The shadows swallowed everything.

Amon’s voice drifted back, calm as ever. "Stay close, Claude. And try not to insult her again. She gets touchy about that."

Then the darkness closed in completely, and the real test began.