HPxLOTM: A Wizard's Path to Divinity-Chapter 709: Amon’s Re-education

"Heh."

Amon suddenly laughed. He had long been curious—many times over—about what the mad True Creator’s incessant cries of "Cyka blyat" actually meant, and whether they had anything to do with the truth behind the Rose Redemption, that event he himself had never participated in.

And now, at last, he understood.

That phrase which had puzzled him for a thousand years...was nothing more than a crude curse.

So, the Ancient Sun God had come from this planet after all? Then did that mean this place could also be considered his hometown?

"Cough, cough."

A sudden bout of coughing came from behind him.

Without the slightest hesitation, Amon attempted [Parasitism + Theft]—yet nothing happened. Edward was still leaning against the doorway with his arms folded, smiling calmly, as though he had anticipated this all along.

"Interesting."

Amon pinched the rim of his monocle. To be honest, he was feeling a little uneasy now.

Before today, it wasn’t as though Amon had never encountered powerful existences—ancient gods of the Third Epoch, the Seven Gods and Four Emperors of the Fourth Epoch, even the Outer Deities lurking beyond the barrier. He had crossed paths with all of them.

No matter how strong they were, even if he couldn’t defeat them, he could always rely on his abilities to manoeuvre around them and retreat unscathed. But now, it felt as if he had suddenly lost all his powers, reduced to an ordinary person. That sensation filled him with an extreme lack of security.

Could this be an illusion? Or a dream?

With that thought, the spirituality within him surged violently, his monocle bursting forth with dazzling light—yet still nothing happened.

No...he suddenly realised that the spirituality within his body had vanished.

"Tsk. Looks like you’re still unwilling to accept reality. That’s understandable. You finally made it to Sequence 0 and were just about to make a grand move, full of ambition—only to end up taking one massive dump instead."

"..."

Amon gave no response. He reached for Edward once more, simultaneously attempting to exploit the authority of Error to manufacture a loophole and turn the tables.

"All right then."

Edward shook his head and snapped his fingers.

In the next second, an illusory door opened beneath Amon’s feet. His body immediately plunged downward at high speed. A few seconds later, another illusory door appeared in the ceiling of the bookstore, and Amon fell out of it—only to whoosh straight back into yet another illusory door in the floor.

Thus, Amon was trapped in an endless loop of falling, emerging, falling, emerging—

That’s right. It was exactly the same trick Doctor Strange had once used on Loki.

Perfectly fitting. After all, both Loki and Amon were gods of mischief. They deserved the same treatment.

Throughout the process, Amon naturally never gave up struggling. But as he continued to try, to exert himself, to exhaust every method he could think of, he was ultimately forced to accept a single fact—

He truly had lost all of his abilities.

What was more, amid the ceaseless falling, even his heart began to feel uncomfortable.

The last time he had been this helpless—stripped of all power—had been one hundred and ninety years ago, above Sefirah Castle.

And the one responsible back then...had also been Edward.

Even Amon, at this point, lost control of his emotions somewhat.

This guy...

Was he born just to counter me?

———

Ten minutes later.

As the illusory door on the ground vanished, Amon slammed down flat on the floor with a loud bang, landing spread-eagled. He smashed out a human-shaped crater more than ten centimetres deep, his entire body embedded in the concrete, completely motionless—as if dead.

After a moment of silence, Amon moved his limbs. Gravel and dust slid off his body and scattered across the floor. He stood up expressionlessly, brushed the dust from himself, lifted his gaze to Edward, and said flatly, "This game was very interesting. Next time, I’ll be sure to let you experience it as well."

Edward smiled. "So? Have you recognised reality now?"

Amon looked at him calmly. "You couldn’t possibly possess such overwhelming power. Otherwise, even if an Outer Deity arrived, they’d only be something for you to toy with in the palm of your hand."

"That’s true enough," Edward replied. "Do you want to know what’s really going on? Too bad. I’m not telling you."

He tilted his chin slightly. "Care to take a walk?"

Amon was silent for a few seconds, then headed toward the doorway. The instant the two of them stepped outside, they were already standing on the streets of London—and both had changed into fashionable clothing of the current era.

Edward wore a dark shirt and tailored trousers, clean and efficient. Amon, on the other hand, was dressed in a hip-hop–style leather jacket and denim boots, his overall aura vastly different from usual.

"Hm?"

Amon rapidly swept his gaze across the surroundings and asked, "The architectural style here seems rather similar to that of Loen. Who borrowed from whom?"

Edward smiled. "You’re that certain the two worlds must be connected?"

He looked straight at Edward, his eyes burning. "Aren’t they?"

"Hmm."

After pondering for a moment, Edward replied, "There is indeed some connection—but not in the way you’re thinking."

Edward raised a hand to flag down a car and opened the door for Amon. "After you."

Once the taxi started moving, Amon looked around the interior and said, "This kind of transportation seems like a reduced version of a steam train, except...it doesn’t appear to require coal."

The taxi driver heard this and turned back with a grin. "Buddy, this is the age of the internal combustion engine. Aside from a few old trains, who still uses steam engines?"

The driver was speaking English, but with Edward present, Amon naturally understood everything.

"Internal combustion engine?" Amon nodded slightly and asked again, "What is its working principle?"

"Uh...I don’t really know the specifics," the driver replied awkwardly. "Probably something like burning gasoline to produce heat? Hey, I’m just a taxi driver."

Edward cut in, rubbing his temples helplessly. "Hey, are you Amon or Stiano? Why are you suddenly interested in this kind of thing?"

"There’s nothing else to do. I’m just asking casually," Amon replied. "Who knows, maybe later I can use this knowledge to trade for something with Stiano."

"Then you’re really overthinking it," Edward said. "There’s no gasoline on the other side."

"Oh?"

Edward leaned back in his seat. "More precisely, gasoline—oil—turns into something else over there. Oh, you’ve actually just seen it."

Amon adjusted his monocle, a thought flashing in his eyes. "Oh? So that’s how the Chaos Sea came to be?"

He watched the streetscape rush past outside the window and suddenly said, "Is this the past? The past before the First Epoch?"

As he spoke, he pinched his chin and nodded to himself. "The same basic understanding of time, the same moon, belief in God, similar architectural styles. There is gasoline—oil—here, but not in the future...and most importantly, there’s also Chernobyl."

Pa!

Edward gave Amon’s shoulder a light slap. "Not bad, Amon. Looks like all that information I had that shop clerk cram into you wasn’t wasted."

"..."

His eyes flickered. "Then...does my father also exist in this era?"

Edward blinked. "Take a guess."

"Boring."

Amon shifted his gaze back outside the window. "Where are you taking me?"

Edward didn’t answer directly. "Actually, I’ve always felt that the reason you turned out like this is purely because you didn’t receive proper education as a child. Maybe the Ancient Sun God was too busy to teach you, or maybe He didn’t know how. Otherwise, with the Ancient Sun God’s genetic heritage, you, student Amon, should have been a good kid—a fine young man."

"Oh?" Amon’s lips curled slightly, his smile ambiguous. "So you’re planning to find me a teacher now? Don’t you think it’s a bit late?"

"Not late at all. There’s a saying that goes...the best time to plant a tree was ten years ago; the second-best time is now. I think that applies to you as well."

"To raise a good Amon, the best time was thousands of years ago. The second-best time is now."

Amon let out a soft chuckle, neither smiling nor frowning. "Heh. Whatever makes you happy."

At that moment, the taxi began to slow and gradually came to a stop in front of a small, dilapidated inn-cum-pub on Charing Cross Road. After paying the fare, Edward pushed Amon out of the car, and the two of them entered the Leaky Cauldron, invisible to ordinary people.

The moment Edward saw those familiar old faces inside the pub, he suddenly felt a strange sense of wonder. The last time he had been here, he had come with Audrey. This time, the one beside him was Amon—a development he had never imagined.

"So this is the...hidden supernatural world of this world?" Amon surveyed the shabby, dirty little bar. Although he had lost all his abilities, he could still sense that everyone seated there possessed a special kind of energy entirely different from spirituality.

Looking at the people in wizarding robes, watching them gulp down fragrant mugs of butterbeer, Amon unconsciously licked his lips, a faint urge to taste it arising within him.

A middle-aged man who noticed Amon staring laughed heartily. "Kid, wait a few more years and you’ll get to try it. Not yet, though."

"???"

Amon froze.

Kid? Was he talking to me?

His mind wavered for a moment, and he suddenly realised his line of sight had dropped considerably. He now had to look up at everyone around him. He hurriedly lowered his head to look at his hands—sure enough, they had become small as well.

He had turned into a child.

A completely proportionate, scaled-down, juvenile version of Amon: black hair, a broad forehead, and a monocle.

"What trick are you trying to pull now?" Amon looked up at Edward.

Edward rubbed his head. "Since this is re-education, of course you need a matching identity and age. Right now, you’re a first-year student transferring from...Russia to Hogwarts. Your name is Amon Grisha Adam."

"..."

"Come on, kid," Edward said cheerfully. "Uncle Edward will take you to Diagon Alley."

"..."

After a long silence, Amon suddenly pointed at the middle-aged man. "Get me a mug of that beer."

"No problem."

One minute later, Edward led Amon—who was carrying a bottle of butterbeer—through the brick wall in the small courtyard behind the bar and into Diagon Alley, into the world of wizards.

"Hold on to this."

Edward stuffed a letter into Amon’s other hand. "This is your Hogwarts acceptance letter. From here on out, the rest of the arrangements will be personally handled by our Hogwarts Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore."

As soon as the words fell, a shadow loomed over Amon. He looked up to see a tall old man with a long, snow-white beard, dressed in wizarding robes. Half-moon spectacles perched on his nose above bright blue eyes, and his face radiated wisdom.

It was clearly their first meeting, yet the look Dumbledore gave him was tinged with complicated emotions—as though he were not looking at Amon, but at someone else.

This was hardly surprising.

After all, Edward had told Dumbledore that Amon was a super-ultra-enhanced version of Voldemort.

If Voldemort went bad, at worst he became a Dark Lord who plagued the British wizarding world, with the total death toll adding up to perhaps a hundred or so.

But if Amon went bad—

An entire Earth wouldn’t be enough for him to ruin.

———

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