Chapter 68: Returning Home
The words the old man had spoken lingered in Amon’s mind long after he had vanished.
The surrounding wind had long since calmed.
The distorted space had returned to normal.
Yet Amon remained standing where he was.
Silent.
His thoughts churned endlessly.
The old man had told him not to fight fate.
Not to change what was destined to happen.
Amon couldn’t help but wonder if there was a deeper meaning hidden behind those words.
Was fate truly absolute?
Would attempting to change it bring consequences he couldn’t yet comprehend?
Would resisting it only accelerate the destruction of everything he wished to protect?
Amon frowned.
No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t find an answer.
Perhaps the old man was right.
Perhaps countless Watchers before him had tried and failed.
Perhaps even gods had eventually bowed their heads before destiny.
But none of that mattered.
Because there was one thing Amon knew with absolute certainty.
His wife.
His daughter.
Neither of them would die.
Not while he still breathed.
The thought of being forced to choose between them caused a cold fury to rise within his chest.
The old man had already accepted that outcome.
Amon never would.
If fate stood in his way, then he would break fate.
If the gods stood in his way, then he would kill the gods.
Simple as that.
A faint killing intent leaked from his body before he quickly suppressed it.
Only then did he finally look toward the president.
The man immediately stiffened.
Amon’s expression remained calm, but something about him felt different now.
Colder.
Sharper.
As though the person standing before him had made some kind of irreversible decision.
Amon’s voice echoed through the area.
"I’ve completed my end of the deal."
His gaze settled on the president.
"Give me the soul skill."
"Alright."
The president nodded quickly.
Although he maintained a composed appearance, inwardly he released a sigh of relief.
"Though I should warn you, it’s only a C-rank skill."
"I hope you don’t mind."
"I don’t care about ranks."
Amon’s response came without hesitation.
The president blinked in surprise.
Most hunters would have been disappointed by the revelation, but Amon couldn’t care less.
After all, with the system’s existence, rank was merely a temporary limitation.
Given enough time, even the weakest skill could be transformed into something capable of shaking the world.
The president didn’t know what Amon was thinking.
Nor did he dare ask.
After witnessing that terrifying sword technique, he had absolutely no desire to provoke him.
Even now, recalling that attack caused his scalp to tingle.
The attack had completely shattered his understanding of combat.
Against such a technique, he genuinely couldn’t imagine a method of defense.
Not wanting to remain under Amon’s gaze for any longer than necessary, the president swiftly retrieved a scroll from his storage ring.
"This is the soul skill."
Amon accepted it.
The scroll appeared ancient.
Its surface was covered in strange symbols that emitted a faint spiritual fluctuation.
The moment his fingers touched it, a familiar mechanical voice echoed inside his mind.
[Ding!]
Amon’s eyes narrowed slightly.
The system.
It had finally reacted.
[Ding! Detected a C-rank Soul Skill.]
[Would you like to master the skill yourself or assign it to your clone?]
Amon’s gaze lingered on the translucent notification floating before him.
There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation as he quickly made his decision.
"Master it myself."
The skill involved the soul.
Something so fundamental wasn’t something he was willing to hand over to a clone.
Even if the clone was essentially another version of himself.
[Ding! Confirmed.]
[Ding! Beginning skill integration.]
The scroll in Amon’s hand suddenly trembled.
Then, before the president’s shocked eyes, it dissolved into countless streams of pale light.
The streams rushed toward Amon’s forehead and vanished into it.
The president’s mouth opened slightly in shock.
"What the..."
Before he could finish speaking, Amon’s consciousness was already elsewhere.
A strange warmth spread through his soul.
For the first time, Amon could clearly feel something hidden deep within himself.
It was difficult to describe.
It felt weightless and seemed ethereal, but it was undeniably real.
His soul seemed to exist within an endless sea of darkness.
Countless silver threads extended outward from it, connecting every part of his existence together.
The sensation lasted only a few seconds before information began flooding into his mind, massive amounts of information.
It included methods, techniques, knowledge, and many ways to perceive, strengthen, and manipulate the soul.
A sharp pain exploded inside his head.
Amon’s brows furrowed as veins bulged slightly along his forehead while he endured the influx of information.
Fortunately, the process didn’t last long.
A few moments later, everything finally settled, and the system displayed a new line of words.
[Ding! Successfully mastered Soul Sense.]
[Soul Sense - C Rank]
[Allows the user to perceive souls, soul fluctuations, and manipulate the soul to varying degrees depending on the knowledge of the soul.]
Amon analysed all the information in his mind rapidly, sifting through it to find out if there was a way to guard against dream attacks.
That was his major reason for searching for a soul technique, to protect that aspect of his wife so she wouldn’t be vulnerable.
After sifting through the knowledge in his mind, Amon discovered that there wasn’t any method of guarding against dream attacks.
However, there were hints and vague knowledge present.
If his guess wasn’t wrong, as the technique increased in rank, the method would gradually be revealed.
’Another thing I have to assign my fate points to,’ Amon thought to himself and decided not to bother with the technique for now.
Glancing up at the skies, he noticed it had already darkened considerably.
The sun was gradually dipping below the horizon, and Amon understood it was time to return home after a long day of work.
"We’ll see some other time," Amon said to the president calmly.
...
After returning the president back to Neverland, Amon returned to Cold Moon District.
The place was eerily calm, exactly as he had left it.
Amon returned to the outskirts of the street.
He wasn’t in a haste, so he decided to admire the sight.
The peacefulness the Butcher had brought to Cold Moon District.
The street lights illuminated the surroundings, giving off a soft glow on the streets and passersby.
Three young ladies laughed and casually chatted with a calm, free-spirited air.
Despite noticing him, they didn’t mind much, or show any sign of panic.
After all, where was this?
Cold Moon District was under the jurisdiction of the Butcher.
It was the only city with a crime rate of just 1 percent.
Everyone was scared of committing crimes for fear of the Butcher’s wrath, making the city extremely peaceful.
Noticing this sight, Amon shook his head lightly and continued walking evenly.
He passed through the streets casually, spending almost an hour walking before finally arriving at the door of his house.
Along the way, he didn’t notice any single sign of crime.
It was clear that everyone was taking his words to heart.
How wouldn’t they?
When anyone who tried to go against the Butcher had suddenly disappeared?
Amon knew the truth.
It wasn’t respect or love that kept people in their place.
No...
It was fear.
Only due to the fear of the Butcher did no one dare commit crimes.
Amon let out a sigh, his clothes vanishing from his body and into the system space as they were replaced by the ones he used to go out in the morning.
A light knock echoed on the door.
Amon felt like it had been months since he had returned.
A feeling he hadn’t even realized was weighing on him slowly disappeared.
Amon let out a quiet breath.
"Kaylie..."
A faint smile spread across his face.
"I’m home."
There really was nothing in this world quite like returning home.
