Curse

At the edge of the battlefield, Amon observed as Primordial Demoness Cheek once again conjured a vortex of chaos, and a smirk immediately curled across His lips.

Raising both hands, He was enveloped entirely in the holy glow of redemption.

Within the monocle's field of vision, the silvery river of fate corresponding to that region appeared. Every tributary of its future was occupied by chaos, leaving no other possibilities—inevitable destruction.

Amon abruptly brought His hands together, clasping them tightly.

At that moment, He seemed like someone earnestly praying in the Ancient Sun God's cathedral.

Almost simultaneously, within that silvery, illusory river of fate—where the tributaries were about to merge and unify destiny into chaos—a new tributary inexplicably emerged, representing another potential future.

In this new tributary, chaos persisted but did not destroy everything in the region.