original

Master of Amber

Auteur: Choka

Chapitre 1: No Regrets

On the highest platform on Void Mountain's peak, the most forbidden area in the Void Empire stood a black-garbed man with rapt attention. With a gaze that penetrated anything that stood in its way.

High above the clouds, the sun hung on the space, flooding the land below in its warm glow, illuminating the world.

The man took deep breaths as he kept thinking about his current situation, light of unknown origins flickering inside of his eyes, unseen to everyone including himself.

A foul wind stirred, wreathing with endless howls of agony from the scattered ghosts on the void mountain's peak.

The wind picked up the man's elegant hair, revealing a demonic face behind it. His pair of spiral dragon horns on his forehead shined with a metallic luster, piercing towards the sky, sharp and imposing. His red pupils revealed dominance and indifference.

"Yone, quietly surrender and I'll make sure to give you a quick death!"

With a devilish smirk that frightened the experts surrounding him, Yone lightly laughed in ridicule, disgust displayed on his face at a single glance.

"Do you really believe taking me down is as simple as defeating an ordinary expert?" With each word, a surge of power coursed through his body. The blood he had lost now condensed into small, rotating spheres, circling him ominously.

"If it's only you, then killing you is but a walk in the park for me!" He roared as the tiny balls of blood shoot in all directions, threatening to turn everyone around him into specks of dust.

"Old friend, aren't you bullying our elders a bit too much?" An ancient voice of unfathomable strength sounded.

Suddenly, all the balls of blood burst into thin air, turning into nothingness.

A space-rending crack echoed through the air as three blinding flashes of light appeared. When the light dispersed, three figures emerged, each radiating a fierce and ruthless power.

...

Yone stood clad in tattered black robes, shredded from the countless battles he had fought. His disheveled hair hung loosely, and his entire body was drenched in blood.

He cast a glance around him.

The blood-soaked robes fluttered lightly in the mountain breeze.

For a moment, Yone resembled a god of war, descended into the mortal realm to show the true art of battle.

Fresh blood poured from the many wounds across his body. In the short time he had stood there, a pool of blood had already gathered at his feet, slowly spreading like a crimson river.

Enemies surrounded him from all sides.

At a glance, it was clear—escape was nothing more than an unattainable dream.

His death was inevitable.

Yone had accepted his fate the moment the three figures appeared. Yet, his expression remained unmoved, his eyes devoid of any emotion.

It was as if the impending death was happening to someone else entirely.

His gaze was calm, his eyes like an endless void—so deep, it seemed impossible to reach the bottom.

The so-called righteous guilds that encircled him had sent only their seasoned elders. Anyone of lesser rank would be no match for him, merely cannon fodder in the fight.

The guilds knew better than to risk their younger generations or promising talents, which is why the three old monsters had come in person.

Even the elders alone couldn't hope to defeat someone of Yone's immense power and cultivation.

Around the heavily surrounded Yone, everyone roared, shouting and sneering with light gleaming in their eyes.

If not for the presence of the three old monsters, these elders would be acting like frightened chickens on a chopping board.

Yone lightly laughed seeing this scene, his heart enjoying his last moments.

None dared to move.

Strong-willed?

Heroes?

The injured who had already lost a few limbs and could sacrifice themselves for the great of good?

Everyone was afraid of Yone's last attack.

Though many knew Yone was on the verge of death, fear still gripped them, outweighing the potential fame that would come with slaying the infamous Great Devil Yone.

All eyes were on the three figures, waiting for them to make their move, fully acknowledging that their interference was but a futile attempt that would never succeed.

The elders attacking Yone would be like an egg thrown at a rock, instantly crashed by the sheer difference of strength.

For hours this tense moment went on until the evening came, the sun casting its rays upon the side of the mountain. At that moment, it was as if the place was burning in fire.

Yone, who had remained motionless like a statue throughout, slowly began to turn his body.

Each inch of movement sent shockwaves of intense pain through every fiber of his body. Yet, Yone's face did not change.

What was pain?

It was nothing more than an illusion—his mind's way of protecting his body from further harm.

Yone understood this well, and so he ignored the alarms sounding in his body. His death was certain, and in this moment, such thoughts and feelings were meaningless.

The experienced elders immediately took a few steps back the moment they noticed the slight change in his body.

By now the gray mountain rock beneath Yone's feet had long been stained a deep red. Due to losing too much blood, his face had become deathly pale; in the afterglow of the sunset, it suddenly had a brilliant luster upon it.

Looking at the setting sun, Yone slightly laughed.

A tear escaped his left eye as he looked at the sky with a deep gaze.

As he did that, memories of his life emerged before his eyes.

He was originally a young man who strived to be a hero like every other person around him.

That happened hundreds of years ago.

So many memories that were buried deep inside the heart began to relive themselves, sprouting into life before his eyes.

"I failed in the end," Yone sighed inwardly, though there was no trace of regret.

He had always known this day would come. Whether it was today or tomorrow made no difference. From the moment he made his choice, he had accepted this inevitable end.

To be a demon is to be merciless and cruel—a murderer and destroyer. There is no place in heaven or on earth for such a being, only the fate of becoming an enemy to the world and facing the inevitable consequences.

"If I hadn't seen the true nature of people in my youth, I might have been blinded, naively following the false path of justice like everyone else—weak, fragile, and kept in the dark."

"Even if the next life exists, I shall still be a demon!" With that thought, Yone let out a loud, defiant laugh, his eyes shifting toward the three figures standing before him.

"Heavenly Grandmaster of Space, you came all this way to save your elders and claim my head. Are you just going to stand there and watch?" His eyebrows twitched as he spoke, his tone dripping with mockery.

"Hmph, Crazed Demon Yone, isn't it obvious why we've waited this long?" An old man stroked his beard, his gaze filled with disdain.

"I have no idea what you mean, old geezer," Yone replied with a smirk.

"Sigh, considering our old friendship and the adventures we once shared, I wanted to give you time to repent," said another old man, his long red hair flowing behind him.

Yone spat blood at the sound of their words, a fierce gleam in his eyes. It was clear—he would not yield, no matter what happened tonight.

In the next second, all three of the figures attacked in union.

Bang!

With a deafening bang, a barrage of spells was hurled at him.

At first glance, it appeared as though a great war between two massive armies was unfolding in the mountain range.

But upon closer inspection, one would see only a lone young man, dressed in black and stained with red, swallowed by a storm of blinding, energy-filled lights.