Chapter 1121: Entrustment
After Lumian recited Amon’s current honorific name, a light full of redemptive power emerged from the void, from the River of Fate, condensing into the form of Amon, wearing a pointed soft hat and a monocle.

Amon glanced left and right before smiling and saying, ‘So, have you concluded your negotiations? Or would this be settled with a duel?

‘You Hunters really have patience. This matter, which should’ve been discussed last September, dragged on until now.’

As He spoke, Amon lightly clapped His hands in mock applause for the patience of the two Hunters.

Red Angel Medici sneered, ‘You’ve changed pathways, yet you’re still cawing like a raven.

‘Let’s begin; don’t waste any more time.’

Stealing the highest Sequence Beyonder characteristics from another wasn’t a simple task. Even if the target stopped resisting and actively cooperated, the process would still take significant time and carry a notable risk of failure. Moreover, it required an exceptionally high level of authority.

After urging Amon, Red Angel Medici sat back down on His iron throne, leaned against the backrest, and crossed His right leg, assuming His usual arrogant posture.

His expression showed neither fear nor despondency—only a hint of emptiness in His gaze, as if reminiscing.

‘What’s on your mind?’ Amon asked with a smile.
Red Angel Medici chuckled. ‘About things that happened before you were born.’

Amon shook His head and adjusted the monocle clasped to His eye socket with His right hand.

His left hand produced a red apple, which He brought to His lips, taking a crisp bite.

‘I’ve waited a long time for this day,’ Amon said with a smile, as the monocle on His face suddenly gleamed.

He extended His right hand toward Red Angel Medici, His wrist rotating slowly and heavily.

Red Angel Medici was abruptly set ablaze, engulfed entirely in bright violet flames.

Despite the excruciating pain, He maintained a mocking smile.

Burning in the flames. Eternal in the flames.

…

After extracting the two Conqueror Beyonder characteristics from Red Angel Medici and handing them over to Lumian, Amon departed from the protected zone.

He stood above the valley of the still-rushing Srenzo River, gazing out at the distant world.

Enormous oak trees, so large they seemed to reach the sky, stood tall upon the land. Verdant green blanketed the remnants of human civilization, and intermittent cries of ‘waaah, waaah, waaah’ echoed, accompanied by the sound of flocking movements.

Suddenly, a figure staggered out from the faint grayish-white fog.

The figure had a handsome appearance and wore formal attire, with scarlet eyes—a Sanguine of a not-insignificant Sequence.

Yet, once outside the protected zone, the Sanguine’s body rapidly mutated.

He collapsed into a mass of flesh and blood, sprouting numerous reproductive organs, some male, some female, and some belonging to peculiar creatures.

These interacted with one another and with the surrounding stones, wood, and vines, giving birth to strange new life forms.

Amon watched this with interest for a moment, then raised His right hand and flicked forth a nearly invisible and formless flame.

The flame fell upon the writhing, ever-procreating mass of flesh, instantly setting it ablaze, reducing it—and the nascent life within it—to ashes.

Amon’s gaze then turned toward the edge of the gray-white fog, where three Sanguine were watching Him. Leading them was Mr. Moon Emlyn, wearing a silk top hat.

Amon smiled faintly before turning His attention back to the towering oaks.

Tonight, He was on watch duty.

Emlyn, who had come to clean up the mutants, observed Amon for a moment before stepping out of the gray-white fog. Enduring the pain of the crimson moonlight, he retrieved the severely corrupted Beyonder characteristic.

Exchanging silent glances with the two other Sanguine, he returned to the protected zone.

After sealing the Beyonder characteristic, Emlyn returned to his residence in Backlund, sitting by the floor-to-ceiling window and gazing at the crimson moon high in the sky.

Only within the protected zone could he experience the peace, spiritual growth, and unique beauty brought by the crimson moon.

Under the crimson moonlight of the World of Ruins, however, Sanguine like him felt nothing but pain, as though the light sought to ignite them and burn them into pure spirituality.

Reflecting on his recent experiences, the once-confident Emlyn couldn’t help but feel weighed down.

In the past, he often proclaimed his ambition to be the messiah of the Sanguine, full of drive and determination. But that was when the prophecy of the Sanguine’s end of days was distant, and their Ancestor still existed. Now, the end of days had truly arrived—and was unfolding before his eyes.

Compared to other pathways’ Beyonders, Sanguine and Planters had suffered far deeper and more severe impacts since the descent of the crimson moon. Over the past year, Emlyn had witnessed countless Sanguine mutate into monsters or transform into their most ferocious enemies—and he had personally dealt with many of them.

Familiar faces disappeared daily. Sorrowful events occurred without end.

This was the apocalypse.

Now, the Sanguine’s population had been halved compared to the time before the crimson moon’s descent.

What can I do to save them… The Moon Emlyn pondered deeply, no longer indulging in fanciful ideas or overconfident thoughts.

Influenced by the crimson moon’s descent, Sanguine dukes dared not act freely, fearing they would lose control and mutate. Thus, Emlyn and other marquises represented the strongest forces the Sanguine could muster.

With a vague understanding of why the crimson moon—the Great Mother—brought such catastrophic influence, Emlyn spent an entire night pondering but still failed to find a way to save his race.

When the sun rose and daylight arrived, he drew the curtains, lay on his bed, and drifted into slumber, hoping his active spirituality might offer some insight through dreams.

Amid his grogginess, a familiar female voice suddenly reached him: ‘Emlyn… Emlyn…’

Emlyn looked in the direction of the voice, dazed, and vaguely saw a voluptuous, graceful figure.

Instinctively, he called out, ‘Ancestor!’

The voice spoke with a slightly ethereal tone, ‘There is something I need to entrust to you.’

In the past, such words would have filled Emlyn with joy, pride, and self-satisfaction, as it signified him becoming the messiah of the Sanguine. But now, he felt only a heavy weight on his shoulders, as though his body could no longer bear the burden.

After a few moments of silence, he answered in a low voice, ‘Yes, Ancestor.’

The voluptuous and graceful figure, radiating maternal warmth, said gently,

‘I will give you a Beauty Goddess Beyonder characteristic, containing my spiritual imprint and residual self-awareness.

‘Safeguard it. Someday, I may be able to be reborn through it.

‘It also contains an extra Life-Giver Beyonder characteristic, which I will pre-separate for you. Afterward, retrieve supplementary ingredients from the treasury and strive to complete your advancement in a short time. When the apocalypse arrives, protect the remaining Sanguine as best as you can.’

Emlyn felt no joy but instead asked in confusion and concern, ‘What about you, Ancestor?’

Why make preparations for rebirth and resurrection?

The voluptuous and graceful figure said with a smile, ‘Some things must be done. Some hopes must be fought for.’

Emlyn froze, hearing the resoluteness hidden in Ancestor Lilith’s tone.

Without further explanation, the voluptuous figure spoke in a motherly tone, ‘My child, as long as all of you survive, as long as my bloodline remains unbroken, and as long as someone remembers my name, I will live forever…’

Her voice gradually faded, disappearing into the dream.

…

The voluptuous and graceful figure emerged from the starlight-woven dreamlike gate, arriving at a majestic and ancient palace enveloped in gray-white fog.

Seated at the head of the bronze table was The Fool, wearing a half-silk top hat and a black trench coat.

It was an avatar—a mere projection of His true self.

‘So this is Sefirah Castle?’ the beautiful woman radiating maternal brilliance asked as She sat in the chair at the far end of the mottled table.

She was Earth Mother Lilith.

‘The external manifestation and extension of Sefirah Castle,’ Mr. Fool replied in a calm tone. ‘You reached out to me through your dream while asleep. What is it you need?’

Lilith cradled an imaginary infant, her smile soft yet firm. ‘I wish to ask you to kill me.’

‘What is the purpose?’ Mr. Fool asked, neither hurried nor slow.

Earth Mother Lilith’s smile remained gentle but resolute.

‘The Mother Goddess of Depravity has leveraged my act of stealing Omebella’s identity and destiny, using symbolic manipulation to trap me in this undead state. However, we can turn this against Her.

‘Since I am symbolically equivalent to Omebella, killing me will also kill the true Omebella. As She is the link between the Mother Goddess of Depravity and the Brood Hive, severing this connection would significantly delay the Mother Goddess of Depravity’s progress in accommodating the Brood Hive, buying us more time.

‘The Mother Goddess of Depravity can use symbols, and I believe you, Mr. Fool, are fully capable of doing the same. As the master of Fooling, you are undoubtedly a master in this domain.’

‘The equivalence of your symbolic identity to Omebella does hold,’ Mr. Fool acknowledged with a slight nod. ‘But killing Omebella now would turn the Brood Hive against us, prompting it to rejoin the Mother Goddess of Depravity.

‘To the Brood Hive, Omebella is the first child It bore after attaining self-awareness, Its mystically significant eldest daughter, just as the Mother Goddess of Depravity is the Firstborn of the Original Creator. The Brood Hive values Omebella deeply.’

Before Earth Mother Lilith could respond, Mr. Fool tapped the edge of the bronze table with his fingers.

‘This can be exploited, but the timing is not yet right.’

Earth Mother Lilith’s smile appeared once more.

‘Good. At least I can still serve some purpose with my death.

‘I will await the correct moment.’

With that, Mother Earth stood, leaving the area above the gray fog in measured steps.