The night was like ink, shrouding Memphis.
The bustling life of the day had long faded away. The streets were desolate and quiet, as if even the wind was suppressed by some invisible force, not daring to make a sound. Only the sound of the Nile's waters flowed distantly, like the heartbeat of the earth.
Yet, in this silence, the darkness was not still.
The shadows surging from the Sun Temple were on the move, hunting.
In front of the abandoned shrine to the west of the city, a boy about ten years old trembled. His clothes were thin, his face full of dirt, clearly an abandoned orphan.
He intended to hide under the shrine for the night, seeking food when morning came.
But he did not know he was already being watched.
A merchant, to cover up a family scandal, had deliberately left the child on this secluded path leading to the temple, thinking, "With so many people missing lately, one more won't raise suspicion."
The night wind howled; the fire basin in front of the shrine had long been extinguished.
Suddenly, the shadows on the ground began to writhe.
One, two, three... multiple shadows converged from all directions, like hyenas smelling blood.
The boy curled up in terror, wanting to flee, but his legs were weak.
"Don't... don't come closer!"
The shadows showed no mercy.
They lunged simultaneously, surrounding the boy.
The light of life was forcibly extracted from his body, turning into fine streams that merged into the shadows. The boy's cries weakened, finally turning into a whimper, and then disappeared completely. The shadows fused into a larger mass, like a blob of flowing ink, swiftly drifting toward the temple.
The priests knelt outside the formation, their expressions solemn, chanting ancient Spells.
At this moment, the first shadow surged in through the ventilation of the Secret Chamber's ceiling, turning into a flash of blood, merging into the embryo.
The embryo's glow intensified slightly.
Soon after, the second, the third shadow arrived consecutively, each carrying a wisp of Essence of Life.
The embryo's pulsation grew stronger, and its aura shifted from pale gold to crimson, like a sun about to awaken.
The chanting of the priests grew more intense.
"With blood as the lead, with soul as the sacrifice, with life as the fuel..."
"Awaken the slumbering god, reshape the master of light..."
"Ra, please use this new body to return to the Human World!"
Cracks began to appear on the surface of the embryo, not as a sign of breaking, but as a sign of growth. Its form gradually became clear, with limbs taking shape and facial contours emerging, bearing a seven-point resemblance to the legendary statue of Ra.
A faint yet pure divine aura began to permeate the Secret Chamber—clearly, upon hearing their words, Ian also roughly understood what they were doing.
Meanwhile.
The shadows that hadn't captured any life continued their actions.
In the depths of an alleyway in the east of the city, a drunk curled up in a corner, clutching a half-empty ceramic flask. His face was covered in beard, his clothes tattered, and he hummed a vague old fishing song.
"The sun rises... Ra bless... hiccup—"
He was bleary-eyed and didn't notice the shadows at the alley entrance were slowly stirring.
A shadow emerged from the corner's darkness, silent and soundless, like fog condensed into form. It had no face, no limbs, just a mass of distorted, ghostly outline, as if torn from the Netherworld.
It moved slowly toward the drunk.
The drunk seemed to sense something, suddenly raising his head, eyes filled with fear.
"Who... who's there?"
The shadow gave no reply.
It plunged down fiercely, like a vast mouth, engulfing the entire drunk.
A short scream pierced the night, then abruptly stopped.
The shadow began to "drink"—not devouring the flesh, but extracting the person's life essence. Strands of pale golden light seeped from the drunk's mouth and nose, absorbed completely into the shadow.
Moments later, the drunk's body shriveled like deadwood, skin ashen, eyes hollow, life extinguished. The shadow slowly withdrew, its form becoming more solid, its edges glowing faintly with blood light.
It didn't linger, turning to merge into the darkness, dashing toward the temple.
The same scene replayed elsewhere. Even though the city's residents knew the night was dangerous, there were always some unfortunate souls lingering in the night for various reasons.
Drunks were the most common among them.
Which was not unusual, for a city full of people always had some too careless ones, like in a big forest, there's every kind of bird.
In the alley behind the "Golden Dates" tavern by the Nile Riverbank, shards of pottery and residue of Palm Wine glistened sticky in the moonlight. The portly brewer Taka lay sprawled beside the garbage pile.
He still clutched a half-empty amphora.
Earlier, he argued with the barkeeper about whose beer was richer, only to be thrown out the back door by a few equally drunk mates. They perhaps did not mean harm but ended up harming.
"Damn bastards..." Taka raised the bottle drunkenly to the moon, "Wait till I'm the guild master..." The brewer suddenly shivered. He turned his head sluggishly, just in time to see the moment when the shadow unfolded like silk. The sharp sound of the bottle breaking was drowned in the sucking noise as the shadow enveloped his head.
Taka's bulky form convulsed violently, the layer of fat beneath his skin sagging like melting wax.
Ten seconds later, the alleyway held only a skeleton draped in human skin and three plump shadows gleaming with an oily sheen. They shivered in satisfaction, turning and gliding towards the temple.
This was the night's hunting feast.