CHAPTER 202: CH 198 CAUGHT ON?

Amon’s gaze drifted toward the violet flames dancing around his throne, flickering in response to his mana signature. He was silent for a moment, then finally spoke.

How curious... The Star Empire chooses complete isolation. Then not long after, the Forger’s Guild, the Alchemy Association, and two of the most independently stubborn powers in the galactic quadrant mobilize with them—under no public banner."

He leaned forward slightly.

"I find it difficult to believe this is mere coincidence."

"But..." he trailed off, eyes narrowing, "

"I have no proof that this isn’t just coincidence," Amon said quietly. "And worse... my instincts—those that have guided me in every situation—are silent."

His tone remained calm, but there was a sharp undertone of unease. He didn’t like silence. Not from the world, and especially not from within himself.

"They’ve always told me what to do. Always pulled me toward action... or away from danger. But now? Nothing. No signal. No pull. No warning. Just silence."

He paused, speaking as if Shadow were not even in the room—lost in his own mind.

"So, do I act on a theory I don’t trust, based on movements I don’t fully understand? Or do I wait... and risk being too late to whatever it is these five powers are after?"

He leaned back into his throne, and the violet flames rose with his rising mana, reacting to the storm of thought gathering behind his still eyes.

Shadow remained kneeling, utterly still. He knew better than to speak now. He hadn’t been asked for his opinion—and even if he had something to say, he wouldn’t offer it uninvited. His role was not to advise. It was to obey.

Amon remained quiet for a moment longer, eyes fixed on the shimmering air in front of him. He wasn’t paralyzed. He wasn’t indecisive. He was thinking with the same precision that had kept him alive—and in power—for centuries.

And then, finally, he shook his head.

He had made his decision. He would wait. Not because he lacked the will to act. Not because he feared taking risks.

But because Amon had learned to trust his instincts above all else—even more than data, strategy, or logic. They had never failed him. It had never led him into a trap he couldn’t escape. Nor had it ever placed him in a situation from which he couldn’t gain something. All in all, his instincts had never betrayed him.

And now, his instincts said nothing. No warnings, no reactions—just silence.

Amon didn’t have to guess. He knew.

Years of study and relentless self-discipline had taught him the value of instinct—an inner voice that had guided him time and time again, bringing him immense benefits and helping shape him into what he was now: the ruler of one of the most powerful forces in the galaxy. A force so mighty, only a few others—countable on two hands—could rival it.

And from all those years of experience, he knew there were only two reasons why his instincts would go quiet, even in a situation like this.

The first: there was nothing to gain. No opportunity, no value—nothing worth his time or effort.

The second—and far more dangerous—was something he’d learned the hard way, after paying a price steep enough to never forget it: there was something to gain... but pursuing it would lead to certain death. For whatever lay ahead was protected by something so powerful, so far beyond comprehension, that even his instincts dared not speak.

And Amon had no intention of dying.

He wouldn’t walk into death willingly—especially not when he had a reason to be certain it awaited him. That reason was a memory.

A memory that clung to him even now. A memory he could never forget.

It was the one time he had ignored the silent warning of his instincts... and dared to lay claim to a place best left untouched.

He still remembered that encounter—and even now, the thought of it sent a shiver down his spine. It had nearly cost him his life. Everything he had built, everything he had become, had teetered on the edge of total collapse that day.

If not for sheer, dumb luck—if not for the sudden appearance of a collapsing space portal behind him, which he’d stumbled into in desperation—he would have died. And not just died, but suffered the worst kind of death imaginable.

Even though he survived, the injuries were catastrophic. It had taken him nearly half a million years to recover. Half a million years.

Since then, Amon had vowed never to take such blind steps again. Never to walk a path when his instincts fell silent.

No matter the temptation—he would not go.

And so, he would not interfere now.

Besides, the connection he had tried to draw between the movements of the four great powers and the Star Empire’s fleet at the galactic rim... was flimsy at best. Too many assumptions. Too little proof. Even his intuition rejected it.

He didn’t know where the opportunity was. He didn’t even know if there was one.

And so—he would stay back. For now.

Shaking himself free from the lingering thoughts, Amon looked down at his hands—slick with sweat, just like his back and face, which still trembled uncontrollably at the mere image of those past events.

He sighed deeply, taking a long, calming breath to steady his otherwise unstable mind, still gripped by fear.

After a few moments, once he had calmed down, he used his mana to evaporate the sweat from his body and cleanse himself. Only then did he turn his attention to the shadowy figure still kneeling before him, head bowed low in silent deference.

Amon let out another quiet sigh.

Inwardly, he couldn’t help but feel a trace of gratitude—and even praise—for the shadow. Had the man dared to look up, or let his divine sense linger, Amon might’ve been forced to kill him. He couldn’t allow anyone to witness the brief moment when he—ruler of one of the greatest galactic powers—had been consumed by fear, haunted by a memory from his past.

But the shadow, as if understanding the unspoken danger, had remained perfectly respectful. His head remained lowered, and his divine sense had been completely withdrawn into himself.

Amon ignored the matter and gave his command in a calm, authoritative tone.

"Have the Dark Legion mobilize. I want them monitoring the region where the Star Empire’s fleet is currently stationed. Do not make contact—no need to enter their territory. They’re on high alert now and would sense us immediately.

Gather whatever intel you can from the perimeter—anything worth noting, have it reported to me without delay.

Also, have the think tanks monitor the fleets of the other four powers. Their movements have been erratic, but I suspect a shift is coming. If any change occurs, I want to be informed at once."

He paused for a moment before dismissing him.

You’re dismissed."

Without a word, Shadow lowered his head even further, then disappeared like smoke—silent, swift, and obedient.

Amon stood alone in the throne room, watching the flames pulse across the blackstone walls.

Though Amon had chosen not to take action out of caution—and yes, even fear—that didn’t mean he would ignore something of this magnitude.

After all, who was to say he wouldn’t gain something without directly involving himself? And even if he didn’t, he could at least enjoy the despair of those who did. If others ended up going through the same—or even greater—torment than he had once endured, he would savor the irony.

Let them suffer

......

Time passed. Two more days went by.

And slowly, across various intelligence networks, people began to notice something odd—something unusual again . Despite having seemingly different trajectories, the fleets from the four powers were all gradually shifting course.

And they were edging toward the galactic rim.

Not abruptly, not blatantly—but steadily and surely and they were already on this course form the beginning . And now, they were more than halfway there.

This realization sparked a wave of confusion across several factions once again.

Why were 160 battle groups—each tied to powerful factions that, while not openly rivals, were never allies—converging on the galactic rim? What could have drawn them there, especially after everything that had already happened?

At first, most dismissed the movements as coincidence or posturing. But now, as the pattern became clearer, some began to reconsider old theories—connections they had previously discarded due to a lack of evidence.

Now, those same theories were being revisited with fresh urgency.

And one possibility was growing harder to ignore: These four powers might be working together. An alliance—formal or otherwise—might have already been forged between them.

And if that were true... then something far more significant was unfolding beyond the galactic rim that they were handing towards .

And one more thing became clear: for all the effort and planning behind this move, it might have been a deliberate distraction—designed to buy just enough time that, even if their real objective came to light, no one would be ready to stop it.