Amon sat in silence, hunched beneath the gray sky. Life was... pretty great.
Well, sure, his ho had been torn apart and scavenged down to the bones. But hey, what could he do? Fate clearly had a twisted sense of humor, and he'd just been the punchline this week.
Still, at least he wasn't infected by the Nightmare Spell. That was sothing, right? A small rcy in a world where nightmares didn't just haunt your sleep, they killed you.
He would've thrown a party to celebrate that fact… If he wasn't currently sitting in the rain, soaked, freezing, and holess.
Two full days had passed since their shelter had been destroyed. Before that, he was broke as hell, sure. But at least he had a ho. Four walls, a patched-up roof, a place to call his own. Now? Just mud, garbage, and a cold wind that didn't know when to quit.
Amon let out a dry chuckle, the kind that sounded more like a cough, and smiled in that uniquely self-deprecating way of his.
He slowly shook his head with mock wisdom.
"…What would Master Oogway say in a situation like this, huh?" he muttered. "I need your turtle wisdom more than that panda ever did, old man."
While he was talking to himself like a lunatic, soone approached him. He heard the sound of footsteps and glanced up. Honestly, he looked quite miserable.
dici and Luna were standing there, looking at him seriously. They all locked eyes in a tense staring contest that lasted a solid two minutes, none of them breaking eye contact. It wasn't until they realized they were still standing in the pouring rain that Amon finally blinked.
His left eye was fixed on dici. His right eye was locked onto Luna. Eventually, his eyes started to hurt, and he sighed softly.
dici gave him a solemn look and spoke, his voice full of urgency.
"If cooking skills were ranked between 'cool ass' and 'so-so'... which one are you?"
Without hesitation, Amon answered smugly,
"Cool ass."
dici gave him a long, deadpan look. Then he tilted his head slightly.
"Absolute bullshit."
Then, our wannabe War God looked up at the sky like he was receiving divine revelation and said:
"Co with ."
Amon frowned, stretching as he stood up.
"For what?"
But it wasn't dici who answered. It was Luna, waving her hand dismissively as she turned to lead the way.
"To his new house. We need soone to teach him how to cook before he kills us."
Amon followed them through the muddy path, boots squelching in the soaked trash beneath their feet. But then a thought hit him like a brick.
"…Wait. Why don't you teach him?" he asked, glancing at Luna with an innocent smile. "You can cook, my charming lady."
Luna gave him an unreadable look, then scoffed and shook her head.
"As if I'd waste my ti on that," she muttered. "I have far more important things to attend to."
Amon nodded with a bright, pleasant smile and replied cheerfully.
"Sure… but we're literally rotting in the outskirts. There's really nothing else to do."
And just like that, Amon started living in dici's new "house."
He and his charming companions, each ard with sarcasm, survival instincts, and an unhealthy amount of gallows humor spent their days scavenging the hos of people who had already died.
At first, Amon was horrified by the sight.
He vomited. Cried for two days. Then entered a deep state of denial, insisting this couldn't be Shadow Slave. After that, he lay in a pile of trash and did absolutely nothing, fulfilling his destiny as a lazy bum.
But eventually… He ca to terms with it. He accepted the corpses and got used to the sll. That, in his book, was a major achievent. A personal evolution.
While picking through a crumbling ruin, Amon glanced at dici and smiled faintly. He'd known that guy for a while now. Back in their old world and now in this one. dici wasn't a bad guy or anything. He just… kind of looked like a hot dog.
dici glanced sideways, not even turning his head.
"You're mocking ."
"I didn't say a word."
Their days were peaceful, if you didn't count the parts where they robbed drunk idiots, scavenged trash off corpses, or narrowly avoided getting gutted by gangs.
Right now, Amon was busy teaching dici how to cook ratatouille.
Not the dish. An actual rat.
Well, at least it wasn't sugar water or salt soup again. Progress.
Amon glanced at dici, a warm smile of acceptance tugging at his lips. The guy wasn't perfect. He was bit dense, always managing to get into trouble but what mattered was that "IT" was a good guy.
"You're mocking again," dici muttered, eyes narrowing as he poked the sizzling rat with a stick.
"I didn't say anything."
Three days later, Amon, Luna, and dici returned from their usual scavenging trip. This ti? They were filthy rich. They'd actually found bread and clean water.
Excited, they practically ran toward their new ho, their faces bright with smiles of pure happiness. Who could bla them? They had treasure this ti!
But as they closed the distance and approached their house, what t them wasn't the miserable shack they'd hoped to find but ruins once again. Everything had been scavenged by so vile people.
Tsk, tsk. The world really was full of evil.
"Pizdets..." Luna spoke in desbilief, staring at ruins blankly.
"Sorry," Amon muttered quietly.
"Don't worry about it," dici replied with a shrug.
Once again, scrawled into the dirt with a stick were the mocking words:
"Tornado Duo was here."
And just like that, they found themselves sitting next to a dumpster, staring at the ruins of their scavenged ho. Amon looked up at the stormy sky with a wry smile.
"What could be worse than this, hah?"
A mont later, a bolt of lightning split the sky, a thunder roared overhead and rain poured down.
Soaked to the bone, once again by the looks of it.
"…Sorry about that too," Amon muttered, not even trying to shield himself. "I brought you misfortune."
dici closed his eyes for a mont and let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. He leaned back, looking solemn and wise as he spoke:
"If the house is gone, we can rebuild it. What matters is that the people are fine."
Amon stared at him for a mont.
dici was such a good guy. Always calm, never angry, and a great listener. Like so kind of modern monk. Amon often wondered what kind of sin a person like that could've committed to end up in a world this ssed up.
He'd honestly look like a wise sage… If he wasn't sitting on rat shit.
But hey, nobody's perfect. And dici still spoke like Master Oogway, just one who slled like absolute garbage.
"You're mocking again," dici muttered without opening his eyes.
"Nah, you're imagining it."
Ti didn't wait for the trio.
Their ho was gone... Again. but the situation wasn't as hopeless as it seed. At least, not if you asked Amon.
That was just how life worked in the Outskirts. And Amon, a self-proclaid professional in surviving apocalyptic world while being stuck at the very bottom of society's food chain, never despaired.
That was sothing he'd learned from his goat, Fang Yuan.
Hadn't it happened to him too? He'd cried, scread, rejoiced. But now? Amon's gaze was as hard as a monolith. Only one thing remained in his heart: perseverance.
Luna watched him with a confused frown, narrowing her eyes as Amon tried (and failed) to emulate Fang Yuan's cool, emotionless expression.
"…What are you doing?"
"Nothing… nothing at all," he said, voice a little too calm, a little too forced.
Luna and dici exchanged a glance, then shook their heads in perfect sync.
They already knew what kind of dumb shit was running through his brain-rotted head.
After failing miserably, Amon sulked in the corner. He had now been officially declared a failure.
What could be worse than that?
Still, he didn't despair. No, he pressed on with relentless determination to master the sacred art of the edgy, emotionless face.
Right now, the trio was strolling through the Outskirts. It felt good to take a walk for once, especially since it was broad daylight. Gangs weren't nearly as active during the day, so they could afford to enjoy the rare peace.
As they walked, Amon "incidentally" brushed his shoulder against a passing man.
"Watch where you walk, cunt!"
Amon simply offered a calm, apologetic smile and bowed slightly in respectful silence. The man gave him a long, suspicious look, spat on the ground, and walked off with disdain.
Luna narrowed her eyes at him, already knowing the hidden talents of her dear friend.
Amon was surprisingly good at two things: pranking people and stealing.
"What did you get?" she asked dryly.
Amon grinned like a kid who just pulled off the greatest heist in history. His eyes sparkled.
"Synthpaste, of course. A lot of it, actually. Should last us a few days."
He said this while casually tossing the box of synthpaste in his hand. Luna and dici exchanged glances, then shrugged and kept walking. Sotis, their friend was a little scary. How did he even manage to steal that entire box from that man's bag? They never figured it out. Just a flick of the wrist and poof, it was suddenly in his hands.
Amon caught up, throwing his arms around their shoulders as they walked. But then he yawned, a wave of drowsiness washing over him. And it wasn't just him. They had all been feeling the sa strange fatigue for the past few days.
They stopped and looked at each other.
"No way. A gang drugged us?" Luna muttered, brows furrowing.
"Nah," dici said. "We're probably just exhausted."
Amon smiled brightly, ever the beacon of optimism. "Don't worry, guys. We're definitely screwed, but what's the worst that can happen? We just die and get turned into so grotesque abominations."
They both stared at him in silence.
A few minutes later, Amon fell in battle...
But that didn't matter. He was a man of resilience. A warrior of spirit. He had fought bravely against the tyranny of his friends and never surrendered until every option was exhausted.
(His ass got kicked)
Two days later, three of them stood in police station.
Inside, a tired-looking female officer gave them a quick glance and frowned with concern.
"Are you lost, children?"
Amon looked around with curiosity, noting the reinforced armor plates on the walls and the poorly hidden turret nests tucked into the ceiling. The whole place gave off the vibe of a war bunker more than a police station.
The officer standing before them looked gentle and understanding. Even though exhaustion clung to her features, it didn't hide the fact that she had the appearance of a rather attractive aunty. Which, in Amon's opinion, made the whole situation even weirder.
Luna sighed and stepped forward, giving the officer an appraising glance before speaking in a stiff, awkward tone.
"As required by the Third Special Directive... We're here to surrender ourselves as a carriers of the Nightmare Spell."
The officer's expression shifted instantly, from concern to wariness. She looked the three of them over again, but this ti with sharp, piercing intensity.
"Are you sure about that?"
Amon smiled pleasantly, bowing slightly like a proper gentleman.
"Absolutely. It started about six days ago, and now we're all feeling pretty drowsy. To put it in simpler terms, your situation is basically: 'Three kids got infected by the Nightmare Spell. No way those bums survive the trial, so now we've got three nightmare creatures to deal with. So We're fucked.'"
He tilted his head, giving her an innocent, wide-eyed look.
"Is that a bit more understandable, officer?"
The woman went visibly pale.
"...Shit."
With a quick, panicked motion, she slamd a button on her terminal and yelled:
"Attention! Code Black in the lobby! I repeat! CODE BLACK!"
Amon gave the officer a mischievous smile, then nudged his friends.
"Alright, let cook."
They gave him a weirded-out look until their eyes slowly widened in dawning horror as Amon opened his mouth.
"Officer, I think I can last for a few more hours… maybe even a day. But I've decided... I'm going to sleep now."
The officer blinked, her expression tightening into sothing between disbelief and anger.
"This is not the ti for jokes, child."
dici and Luna both reached out in panic, trying to stop him, but alas… Amon's commitnt to nonsense was unwavering.
"Not joking, really," he continued cheerfully. "If I'm dying, I'll die satisfied. You see, I'm a pleasure seeker. Oh, and if I croak right here, well, you guys are completely screwed. Heh."
With that, he sighed in contentnt, stopped resisting the crushing drowsiness, and dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
Why did he do it? He could've used the ti to prepare, gather information, maybe figure out how to survive. But that wasn't who Amon was anymore. Sowhere along the way, he'd regained that twisted sense of adventure he lost when he got older.
To put it simply, he just wanted to troll the officer.
Then, everything went black.
And in the vast darkness, a cold, chanical voice echoed in his mind:
[Aspirant! Welco to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your First Trial…]
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