Sunny was once again sent flying several steps backward. Saint intercepted the new blow, albeit barely. The only signal of an attack was the distortion in the owl's shadow and the faintest whistle in the air. Even that was nearly impossible to hear, drowned beneath the roar of combat.
Sunny rolled and jumped back onto his feet.
This battle was truly terrible. Not only was the bird already able to turn invisible, the fucker had to go and take more of Sunny's senses. The sound of its descent was a clear indication that it was moving, yet the right half of Sunny's hearing had been taken by its first blow. Moreover, he had no time to wash the blood out of his right eye with the Endless Spring.
"Dammit…"
This was bad. He had wished with all his being not to encounter any flying abominations. They were notoriously difficult to deal with. But it seemed that fate had other plans for him.
Sunny and Saint moved swiftly, Sunny straining to listen while Saint relied on whatever senses a statue could possess. With only one eye open, Sunny's gaze darted everywhere, searching for the faintest disturbance in the air.
Nothing.
The damn bird's unnatural ability was perfect for assassination. It could pick off enemies before they ever noticed its presence.
'What to do…'
Sunny forced himself to think calmly. The pain helped in this endeavor.
Thanks to Blood Weave, he wasn't bleeding out anymore, but every impact reopened his wounds and sent fresh blood spilling down his body. He needed a plan, and he needed one fast—
He crouched and dashed back as Saint suddenly shifted aside, narrowly avoiding another unseen strike. At least with her, who could sometimes sense an attack before it landed, he had a warning. Even if it meant dodging only when his Echo did.
He spat out a clot of blood. He had already sustained multiple wounds in his short clash with the silver-masked owl.
If this continued, he would be dead soon.
So he decided to use his surroundings.
His opponent was an Awakened Devil. It would not be easily tricked, but tricking it was not his goal.
Sunny sent a mental command to Saint. She stabbed her sword into the ground and raised her shield. Then, with a violent motion, she bashed the earth and tore the blade upward. The impact created a small shockwave.
That was not the point.
Dust and debris rose into the air, forming a thick smokescreen around them.
'By the gods, please work!'
Diving into the smoke, Sunny closed his eye completely and focused on his shadow sense. His vision was unreliable. His shadow sense, at least, offered something.
He and Saint stood back to back, circling slowly, blades ready.
For a moment, nothing happened. No disturbance touched the shadows around him.
'There.'
He thought it and sent the command to Saint at the same time.
To his left, the shadows shifted.
The shadow itself did not reveal exactly where the owl would strike, but it told him when.
The smokescreen served its purpose.
The owl could turn invisible, but it could not turn intangible. As it moved, the smoke parted in its path.
Sunny opened his eye despite the sting of dust. He saw the clearing trail racing toward them.
Using Saint as a platform, he leapt. She raised her shield above her head, allowing him to step onto it before pushing him upward. Sunny shot into the air just as the smoke split apart.
The owl reached Saint at that exact moment—only to meet Sunny midair.
He twisted and slashed.
The owl reacted with terrifying precision. Instead of flying into his blade, it pulled its body back and lashed out with its talons. Sunny's strike met hardened claws instead of wing or flesh.
The impact hit him in midair. Before he could fall, the talons seized him and hurled him downward in a spinning arc. Saint dropped her sword, caught him with one arm, and raised her shield with the other to block the owl's follow-up strike.
Sunny's head rang violently.
How had it seen that coming? Could it see through the dust? Or had it simply reacted in the same instant he attacked?
Either way, the plan had failed.
He spat out more blood. Through his one functioning eye, he watched the owl withdraw its wings and beat them downward. A violent gust tore through the battlefield, scattering the smoke and clearing the air.
They were back where they started.
And Sunny was accumulating injuries at an alarming rate. The amount of head trauma he had endured without losing consciousness was a testament to his vitality.
But even he had limits.
And he was nearing them.
As long as the battle continued like this, he would die.
He couldn't hit the owl directly. It was invisible and far too fast.
He couldn't reliably predict it. His shadow sense only caught fragments—
'…Why?'
Something didn't add up.
If it was truly invisible, Sunny wouldn't see its shadow at all. Yet he was picking up on the absence of it—on fragments.
The owl's shadow was distorted, not completely gone. The owl was invisible, yet he could see the movement of wind and distortions in the air.
Just what was its ability?
Sunny breathed heavily as he got back up. He couldn't hear it, but he knew the owl was circling above, preparing another fierce strike.
He stood still and breathed deeply.
"Hah…"
It was a strange feeling. To be on the brink of death and yet so calm.
This calmness felt foreign. So detached from his usual self, as though it did not belong to him.
Perhaps it didn't.
Either way, as Sunny looked up and saw the air ripple, as he felt the shadow distort, he smiled.
Why was he excited?
And why could he feel something distant in his mind beginning to swell like a rising tide?
The owl descended.
Sunny did not move.
At the last possible moment, he commanded Saint to rush forward while he stepped back and fell into the embrace of the shadows.
He could not kill it now.
But perhaps…
A change in numbers would suffice?
"Are you sure this is wise?"
Gemma's voice was calm, but there was weight behind it. The echoes of battle still lingered beyond the stone walls of the Bright Castle. Another influx of Nightmare Creatures had been repelled. Another wave of Fallen beasts crushed beneath steel and Aspect.
And yet the waves were growing.
More Fallen, and stronger ones at that. This time, Gunlang himself had stepped onto the battlefield again.
They had survived. They had returned.
But survival was beginning to feel like a fading dream.
They stood in a secluded chamber far from the rest of the castle. For once, there were no guards, no kneeling soldiers, no golden helm reflecting torchlight.
Only two men who had stepped into the same solstice eight years ago.
"Wise?" Gunlang repeated quietly. "Gemma, my friend… the time for wisdom has long since passed. You know as well as I do. After all, we read those tablets together."
Gemma's expression darkened. He remembered those tablets. The brittle fragments etched with warnings and old knowledge. Partial truths that spoke of the events that led to the Forgotten Shores today.
"Even so…" he muttered.
Gunlang looked at him, and in that moment, he wore no mask.
His long blond hair fell loosely over his shoulders. A short beard framed his jaw. He looked younger than the weight he carried, no older than a man in his late twenties.
His eyes met Gemma's.
Tired—clear—unflinching.
He sighed.
"As I've said before, this is the end, Gemma. Our time of peace, ever since I killed the second Bright Lord, has ended. We would know better than anyone. Not a single one of us is capable of felling a Corrupted Devil, and there are four of them. More than that, they are more dreadful than any mere Corrupted Devil. They have special origins, after all."
Gemma looked away. His jaw tightened, then loosened.
"…So be it then. You are right. There is nothing to be done." He lingered before asking, quieter this time, "But if so, what are we going to do?"
Gunlang smiled faintly. Not the radiant, commanding smile of the Bright Lord. Something smaller. A true human smile.
"Simply the only thing we can. Delay the inevitable."
Footsteps approached from the corridor beyond.
Gunlang reached for his helmet. The familiar golden shell flowed back into place, hiding his face, swallowing the man and leaving only the Bright Lord behind. Gold from head to toe. Once again untouchable and distant.
"We'll speak later," he said. "Just know, either way, things are going to change fast."
He moved toward the door.
Then, unexpectedly, he paused.
He looked at Gemma once more.
His voice lowered.
"I would enjoy the fruits of our labor. The eight years we've been here and ruled the Bright Castle. After all, you deserve some sort of reward for following this fool."
He took a step forward.
"We really did try. It was good while it lasted. But now, even someone as I cannot deny it. The moment even one Disaster descends upon us, we will face our ends."
The door began to close.
Before it shut completely, Gemma heard one final murmur.
"For all those who step upon these Forgotten Shores… bear the sins of their forebearers."
The door sealed.
Gemma remained alone in the quiet chamber.
Gunlang would be tending to the people of the castle now. To his guards. To Changing Star.
Gemma exhaled slowly and pushed the door open again.
He would follow Gunlang until either he himself, or Gunlang, fell in battle. Sleepers feared death, yes. But after years of fighting creatures born from nightmare, fear dulled into something distant.
If death was approaching, so be it.
As he walked through the corridor, he recited words from one of the fragmented tablets they had uncovered long ago.
"Flow our souls to the other side of the River. Let us gaze upon the guiding light. Unburden our names from the weight of clay and bone, that we may walk as echoes in the field of dawn…"
Sunny burst through the window in a rain of splinters and powder.
His boots struck the outer wall of the adjacent building. For a moment he clung there, body horizontal to the ground, shadow coiled tight around his limbs. Then the wall behind him exploded.
The Owl crashed through in a shriek of shattered masonry, a blur of twisting silver and broken bricks. The entire structure bucked from the impact.
Sunny pushed off.
He flipped backward, landed on a narrow ledge, rolled, then dove just as the wall he had used as footing was pulverized into dust. Chunks of ancient architecture tumbled into the street below like the bones of a collapsing titan.
He ran. For twenty minutes he had been running.
He hadn't called Saint yet, so he had no shadow to use as a shield at his side. She rested within his soul sea, mending the fractures in her stone body, drawing strength from the dark flames that smoldered in its depths. This fight, for now, was his alone.
His shadow's augmentation was doing wonders for his survival. He hurled himself through archways and over collapsed colonnades, using the Prowling Thorn to swing between beams. The thin string snapped taut again and again, each arc barely outracing the shriek of displaced air behind him.
His tachi bit into stone to arrest his deadly falls. Sparks scattered as he ripped it free and kept moving.
Why run?
Because he would die if he stayed.
Until he understood the Owl's ability, closing the distance meant nothing. Steel could not cut what the eye failed to grasp.
But as he fled, his mind worked overtime.
The creature could not glide effortlessly through buildings. It had to tear through them, and therefore, the walls slowed it. Pillars resisted its assaults—so much so that sometimes it hesitated above rooftops, waiting for an opening so it could perform a clean strike.
Though when it lost its patience, it simply smashed through.
That impatience was a flaw. And thus could be used against it.
Every time it barreled through a confined space, its shadow returned.
Completely clear and visible to Sunny's shadow sense.
He noticed it first in a collapsed hall painted in faded murals. The Owl burst through a wall and for the briefest instant its silhouette stretched across crimson plaster.
The shadow was whole and tangible. But… why?
Simple. Because there was less to blend into.
The second revelation came when debris showered around him in many colors. Blue tile—faded gold leaf—moss-dark stone. As the Owl dove between them, its feathers shifted. Sunny had thought he was seeing things the first time, but by the third time it was undeniable.
The hue of its wings rippled like water reflecting the sky.
Camouflage.
It did not vanish, no. It adapted to its environment.
It bent light and color around itself. Even its shadow shifted with it, dissolving into the surrounding gloom. That was why shadow sense had faltered in its usage. He had been searching for absence when he should have been searching for the fluctuations of its surroundings.
Now he knew. Shadow sense was not useless—it was merely confused.
He only needed the right stage.
He cut left, sprinting through a collapsed manor. The Owl whistled behind him and tore through three pillars in rapid succession, bringing down the ceiling. Dust filled the air.
The creature was growing agitated, more and more by the second.
'Good, you vile thing.'
He leapt through another window, thorn line whipping forward to catch a distant gargoyle. He swung wide over an open courtyard—
And the Owl burst free of the facade behind him, twisting midair with predatory precision.
It was too fast.
Sunny brought the Midnight Shard down with both hands, once again meeting its talon midair. The impact exploded through his arms, causing the very world to spin.
He was airborne with nothing to catch him.
The Owl's strike flung him sideways like a discarded doll. He slammed into a wall hard enough to crater stone, ricocheted off it, hit another, then dropped.
The ground greeted him with merciless force.
Something… something definitely cracked.
Pain bloomed white across his vision. His leg screamed in agony—his ribs protested against his lungs. His forehead split against cracked stones.
He tasted iron.
For a moment, he could not move.
Blood Weave flowed desperately, threads of living crimson stitching torn flesh and sealing ruptured vessels. It slowed the bleeding, dulling the worst of it.
It was not enough.
The building he had just escaped began to collapse fully. Sunny summoned Saint with the last coherent fragment of will he possessed.
She manifested above him as the Owl descended from the starless sky.
Silver flashed! Saint's shield met the strike. The sound rang like a cathedral bell struck by thunder.
They began to fight, moving and flowing into a series of strikes.
Sunny lay on broken stone while his Echo endured the battle.
Saint guarded him with everything she could muster, intercepting diving blows and slashing upward whenever the Owl's outline flickered too clearly. She absorbed the brunt of it that would have ended him instantly. Chips formed along her armor. Cracks spidered across her shield.
She did not falter.
Sunny tried to rise, but his body was not in agreement.
His nerves were firing incoherently. Limbs trembled without obeying his brain signals.
His thoughts broke.
…So this is how it ends?
A quiet laugh bubbled in his throat, turning into a wet, bloody cough.
'No.'
He had achieved his objective.
Somewhere nearby, beneath collapsed corridors, waited his final insurance.
The Immortal Skeletons.
The pale things that refused to stay down. The mindless troops that had followed his voice with dog-like stupidity when he lured them.
He had left them waiting.
Waiting for a call.
The Ordinary Rock had been dropped during the impact. And well… the Owl never had the chance to notice.
"COME KILL ME, YOU VILE THINGS!" the rock shrieked from where it clung invisibly to silver plumage.
The effect was immediate.
From beneath rubble and from cracked mausoleum doors, skeletal forms stirred. Pale shapes rose in droves. Dozens. Scores.
They had come.
The Owl faltered midair, confusion rippling through its movements. It ascended abruptly, wings beating in agitation as an army of white silhouettes flooded the courtyard below.
Saint seized the moment.
She lifted Sunny in one arm and retreated, shield smashing aside grasping skeletal hands. The skeletons swarmed toward the source of the insult, clustering beneath the Owl in a churning sea of bone.
The creature hovered higher, wary.
Its intelligence worked against it.
It could not gauge rank in that chaos. Dormant or Awakened or Fallen meant little to something that preferred surgical strikes. It would not willingly dive into a writhing mass.
For now, there was distance between predator and prey.
It would not last long, though.
The Ordinary Rock continued its relentless taunt. Sooner or later the Owl would sense the foreign object clinging to its feathers. It would tear it free.
Saint looked down at Sunny.
He hung limp in her grasp, blood streaking his face and soaking into the fractured stone beneath them.
He tried again to command his limbs.
Nothing.
His breathing was ragged.
'…This is going to hurt.'
He sent Saint a mental command. One that was most definitely going to ache for the next couple of days.
A light strike to his back.
If his body refused to respond, then he would shock it into compliance. Blood Weave, at the current moment, needed a stimulus. Pain was a good one. As a Sleeper, essence leaked from him freely during battle, spilling uncontrolled. Perhaps a violent jolt would force it to surge.
Saint hesitated only a fraction.
Then her armored palm struck him square between the shoulders.
The impact detonated through his spine.
For an instant, the world vanished into blinding agony.
And then—
"ARGH!"
Saint's armored palm struck the center of his back.
Sunny felt as though lightning was pouring into his veins. His body seized, then snapped awake like a corpse yanked by cruel puppet strings. Agony was everywhere at once. He hit the ground face-first, rolled to his side, and writhed.
For a moment, the world was nothing but pain. But this was a good thing.
He drew in a ragged breath and forced himself up. One knee, then the other. He summoned the Midnight Shard into his palm and wrapped a cloth around the hilt with shaking fingers when his left hand felt numb.
His arm felt like splintered wood, and his many bones were on the brink of breaking.
He stood anyway—he had no choice.
Above, the Owl hovered, finally piecing together the clever farce. The skeletons clawed at nothing, their empty skulls tilted toward the invisible insult clinging to silver feathers.
The Owl was learning.
Sunny summoned the Endless Spring and overturned it over his head. The cool water cascaded down his face, washing away blood, dust, and the sticky veil over his right eye. He rolled his neck slowly and blinked until the world sharpened.
A clean chunk of his right ear was missing. Blood Weave had not repaired it, so naturally, he wasn't going to get it back.
It did not matter. He could see.
That would be enough to continue the battle.
From the Owl's vantage point, the prey it had nearly broken now stood tall, washed clean and holding a steady blade.
Illusion was a weapon too.
Saint stood at his side, chipped and dented, shield cracked at multiple edges. She was silent as ever.
She had taken the punishment of its strikes without complaint, and she would take many more.
Sunny glanced at her and gave a faint nod.
'Soon…'
The Owl descended.
—
Sunny grabbed his crooked forearm and snapped the bone back into place. In doing so, he screamed in agony, but it sharpened his focus further.
"Go."
Saint dashed left at his command, boots crushing stone as she charged toward the mountain of rubble the Owl had made. Sunny sprinted forward at the same time.
He did not wrap himself in shadow.
That alone was enough to make the creature hesitate.
Saint drove her sword into the ground and smashed her shield against it with all her might.
Stone shattered. Dust exploded outward in a choking bloom.
A gray curtain swallowed the courtyard.
Sunny leapt.
He planted a foot on a skeleton's skull, used its shoulder as a step, vaulted higher, and flung the Prowling Thorn. The cord bit into the neck of a street lamp that only pretended to be metal. He swung in a tight arc.
The Owl beat its wings. The smoke evaporated under a gale.
Only for it to see nothing but white silhouettes a second later.
It was… confused.
If it were human, it would have frowned.
Where?
Not ahead.
Not left.
Right.
Sunny came in low and fast, the Thorn's string slicing through the air. He hurled the kunai at the Owl's neck and let momentum carry him forward, trying to drag the beast down with gravity's quiet authority.
It was like trying to topple a cathedral with a rope.
The Owl twisted its neck effortlessly, spinning him around like a toy. His ribs screamed as centrifugal force tore at his injuries. His blood was flowing outward once again.
But the kunai was already buried deep. No twist would free it.
Sunny locked his grip and refused to let the line slacken.
The Owl whipped him around again.
…It never saw Saint.
She had climbed the rubble it had created, each step deliberate. Silent and waiting for her moment.
Sunny met the Owl's gaze mid-spin and smiled.
'Too late.'
He flung the end of the cord, and Saint caught it.
The Owl surged upward instinctively.
The cord went taut.
Saint leaned back with all her weight, armored heels carving furrows into stone. The Awakened rank string held.
And so the Owl's ascent was cut short.
Saint wrapped the cord around its right wing and stepped off the rubble.
And well, gravity seemed to have chosen its side.
The Owl slammed into the skeletons below like a fallen star, scattering bones in a relentless tide.
Sunny released the Thorn and dropped with it, shadow finally unfurling around the Midnight Shard like a living cloak.
He was empowered once more. Or rather, his blade was.
The Owl staggered up, one wing tangled, its feathers broken.
Sunny drove the Midnight Shard through its left wing with everything he had left. Blade met flesh—resistance—then surrender.
He roared with everything he had as the steel finally pierced through.
Black blood sprayed everywhere like rain.
Saint abandoned her shield and descended in a single perfect motion, blade raised high.
The strike was… clean.
Terrible.
And so very beautiful.
The Owl's left wing parted from its body. Its shriek clawed at the sky.
For a moment, victory tasted sharp and metallic.
Then the immortal skeletons returned. Taking the chance, they swarmed both the predator and cunning shadow alike.
Sunny was buried in clattering bones, fingers clawing at his armor. Saint carved a path through them with brutality, scooping him up before he vanished beneath their grasping hands.
They leapt away.
Behind them, the Owl struggled to rise on one ruined wing, skeletons clinging to it like pale barnacles.
Flight was no longer an option.
'Serves you right, damned thing...'
Sunny sagged against Saint's shoulder. The world was beginning to swim, and he couldn't focus any longer.
He was very tired.
Very, very tired.
Through his fading vision, he pushed one last command into Saint's mind.
The cleared X on the map.
She remembered the path. After all, she had followed him through them quite recently.
Saint ran, crushing bone underfoot. The Owl's shrieks faded behind them, swallowed by the hungry chorus of skeletons.
Sunny's thoughts faded softly at the edges.
He rested his forehead against cold armor.
And let the dark take him.
—
"There's a hero within everyone's heart. With the flow of time, we carve ourselves stroke by stroke, until the hero becomes real. Until they become our greatest creation."
"Do not… bow your head… to THEM."
"It's… okay… don't… cry"
"Run… Sunny…"
"Is this fate…?"
Are you really going to keep going? Regardless of the eventuality?
"Run dammit…!"
"See you on the other side!"
"…It's all over."
"For Changing Star!!"
"When… will you… l-learn?"
"There are no happy endings…"
"A shame. We never stood a chance, in the end."
"…!"
At least tell me this, Sunless. If you regress, will you live your life to the fullest?
"If you want my bones, I shall give them to you. If you want my heart, then I will gladly hand it over. However, you will have to risk the entirety of yourself, as well, ■■■■■■■."
"There are many ways to survive the ■■■■■■■■■■■. I've forgotten some of them. But one thing is uncertain. If you are not hearing my voice, epigone, you will die."
Was it not her wish for you to be happy?
"I did not ask you to suffer. You merely chose it for yourself."
"Because we are their flaw."
"I… I love you to, I love you so much, Neph..."
"…Please don't leave me."
"Kai—!"
"DAMN YOU, ASTERION!"
"I have not seen you return. I have never witnessed you suffer. How could I know what awaits you if you choose to go back? You will not repeat your pain. You will not be caught again. And if there is a grasp, it is not meant for you."
"How beautiful you are, Sunless. Have you come to visit?"
"How odd... you are already dead. Your existence is fading. How are you here?"
"…You wanted to be free of Fate, so you had it taken from you."
This is a very cruel request for help, indeed.
"You are not alone."
"You saved me once. Now I'm going to save you."
"Again, Sunless. Next time we meet... no. Instead, you should never see me again. I destroyed everything you held dear, after all."
"All shall bid farewell to you, and you alone will witness the miracle."
"That's not a wish, Sunless. It is your hope. And with me, It shall be your desire."
"Even If its choice has already been made, if fate is set in stone… I… will still never yield to it…"
"Remember. You must invoke it's name."
No… I am in error. You have this righ—■—■—■—■
■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■
■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—?—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■
■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—?—■—■—■—■—!—■—■—■—■—■—?—■—■—■—■—■—■—!—■—■—■—■—■—■—■—■
■—■—■—■—?—■—■—■—!—■—■—?—■—■—■—!—■—■—■—?—■—■—■—!—■—■—?—■—■—■
■—■—?—■—!—■—?—■—■—!—?—■—■—?—!—■—?—■—!—■—■—?—!—■—?—
■—?—!—■—?—!—■—!—?—■—?—!—■—?—!—?—■—!—?—!—■—?—
?—!—■—?—!—?—!—■—!—?—!—?—!—■—!—?—
?—!—?—!—?—!—?—!—?—!—?—!—?—!—
…
?
!
—
— — —-
— —
—…u!
…! —
…u!
…up!
get…
'…Huh?'
…up!
'Is that… my voice…?'
…You mustn't fail! Get up, you damn fool!
Sunny jolted awake.
His eyes fluttered, welcoming him to pure darkness. Naturally, he could see through it just fine.
For a fleeting moment, he did not remember the battle. He did not remember the owl, or the sound of tearing steel, or the sensation of falling. He only knew the suffocating gloom of a sealed ruin and the faint, terrible scent of blood having pooled nearby.
His eyes darted wildly.
Stone walls—cracked pillars. A broken ceiling caused by a battle he had started himself. He recognized the place slowly. One of his marked caches. The hidden spots where he stored the glittering spoils of countless hunts.
Then, finally, the pain flared.
It began in his ribs and spread outward. His breath caught, then a strained sound slipped from his throat.
He looked down.
Blood had dried across the Puppeteer's Shroud, and the memory itself was ragged. His cloth was torn, and beneath it the skin was bruised in grotesque shades of purple and black. His hands trembled when he tried to move them.
Finally, the memory returned.
The dive. The Silver Mask. The sky.
He… he had been fighting.
He had passed out.
Sunny inhaled sharply. He was sweating again, as though he had been dragged from the deep sea. That hollow, distant sensation lingered within him.
'I dreamed again.'
He was certain of it. Though this time he faintly remembered voices, stacked atop one another. A harsh cacophony of screams, promises, and… longing?
'Just… what was th—?'
Though before Sunny could focus on it, it vanished once more.
Not even a fragment remained.
CLANG!
Sunny's head snapped up as he heard steel ring against steel.
Reality snapped back into place. He had a battle to attend to.
"…No rest for the wicked," he muttered.
He summoned the Midnight Shard. The tachi manifested in his grasp, cold and familiar to this cruel world he found himself in. Using it as a crutch, he forced himself upright.
…His knees buckled, his vision swam.
How long had he been unconscious? From what he could tell, definitely less than an hour. Perhaps less than half.
His body was still a ruin.
And yet—
He blinked.
There was no fresh bleeding.
A faint shimmer of gold flickered like a distant flame along a half-closed wound on his side, vanishing the instant he focused on it. It had happened the moment his eyes opened. He was certain.
[Blood Weave].
Had it responded to the Dream? Or did it simply labor more fiercely when he drifted out of consciousness?
Sunny found himself leaning toward the first thought. Though there was no time to dwell on it. He could do so later, when he was out of this hell.
He rolled his shoulders, feeling something crack unpleasantly. He spat a thick clot of blood onto the stone, clearing his lungs.
Then he moved.
The street outside bore only fresh scars. The battle had not lasted long.
Saint stood amidst the wreckage, her form cutting through the gloom like a blade of moonlight. An Iron Spider lay in pieces beneath her shield, fragments of iron scattering across the stones. The Blood Fiend lunged toward her, its body twisting with acceleration.
Sunny stepped in.
His shadow wrapped around his blade. He slashed low as the final spider descended, severing its legs in a clean arc. The creature collapsed with a metallic shriek, only to be finished off by Saint the next second.
Together, they turned on the Blood Fiend. It did not last long.
The Spell's voice whispered through his mind.
[Your shadow grows stronger.]
Sunny wiped the sweat from his brow. "Yes, yes. How insightful."
His arm throbbed from those few movements alone. And his ribs burned with each breath.
He scanned his surroundings. Clearly, the ruins were not yet devastated. If the fight had dragged on—
The owl would have returned.
A chill passed through him. They had cut off its left wing, no?
He was sure they had grounded it. But regardless, it was a cunning abomination.
And swift as hell.
Even now, it must be searching for him.
And, as fate would have it, the moment the thought entered his mind, a soft impact echoed from above.
Sunny looked up through a jagged fracture in the wall.
'Ah.'
There it was, perched in the shadows. The silver mask gleamed faintly, catching what little light dared to linger. Sunny felt as though there was a hint of true anger beneath that mask.
It had just arrived. Based on the structure itself, it couldn't have been there long.
Then it dropped.
The owl descended like a falling blade, mask-first in an attempt to crush him into the earth. Sunny rolled forward as Saint intercepted the blow, her sword clashing against its mask.
"Tch! Damned bird!"
He summoned the Prowling Thorn in mere moments.
The owl twisted unnaturally, swinging its remaining wing in a brutal arc. Sunny braced himself, pressing his forearm against the flat of his blade. Saint stepped beside him to aid in the coming blow.
The impact struck—
…They held?
'Huh?'
Sunny had more than expected to get sent flying. Yet he had not.
They held—no—more than that, they pushed it back.
Finally, Sunny understood.
Its strength had always come from speed and gravity. Those two laws of nature—acceleration and descent.
Therefore, on the ground, it was diminished.
Saint charged forward and smashed her shield into the silver mask, causing the owl to stagger. Sunny took the opportunity to move low and carve his tachi into its talon. He felt the bone crack, and black blood sprayed out. He kicked off its torso and retreated.
'Well… I'll be damned.'
He was right. The Awakened Devil had relied on stealth and surprise, as well as its overwhelming momentum.
Now it had neither.
Its left wing lay severed.
Its right trembled with injuries.
It was cornered. And as if hearing his thoughts, the silver mask split. Two hollow white voids opened where the eyes should have been. And the next moment—
Sunny's world warped. From his perspective, space was bending sickeningly.
A mental assault?! It must have been a crude and desperate attempt to bring Sunny down. Unfortunately for it, the Puppeteer's Shroud excelled in resisting such a low level of hex.
So instead, teeth burst from the fracture of the mask, snapping toward the upper half of Sunny's torso.
Saint's blade pierced through its body before it could close its jaws. She abandoned her shield and gripped her sword with both hands. Using her complete output, she twisted the steel deeper into its flesh.
Sunny stepped forward. Now was the time.
"Now."
Saint pivoted and delivered a devastating horizontal arc. The owl's face split open, metal and bone parting as it screamed.
Its shriek turned wet. It writhed, one wing thrashing weakly.
Sunny breathed in, then lowered into a stance, blade angled toward the ground. Saint mirrored him with her sword raised high.
Their movements aligned, becoming one single attack. His shadow coiled along the black steel.
And they struck—this would be their final attack.
Sunny's blade tore upward through the broken mask.
Saint's descended like the judgment of a god.
The sound was final. The silver mask shattered into pieces. Black ichor cascaded onto the stones.
The silver-masked bird collapsed before them, its body convulsing once before falling still.
And finally, for once, Sunny had the chance to hear… nothing. Pure silence. The battle was truly over.
The Spell's sweet voice whispered into his ears. And truly, he had never been happier to hear it:
[You have slain an Awakened-Devil, Silvershade Harrow.]
Sunny swayed the next second. His legs nearly gave out, but Saint caught him by the arm.
His body was failing him now. One arm hung at an unnatural angle. After stacking the strain of attack after attack, the bone had surrendered. His throat was burning with every breath, and he could swear something sharp was pressed dangerously near his lung.
He could feel Blood Weave at its max output, stitching what it could.
It would not be enough. Though it was fair. He had gone beyond his limit.
Far beyond.
"H-High… ground…" he rasped.
Saint obeyed him, lifting him and moving toward the broken upper levels of the abandoned manor. She positioned him where he could lean against stone and still command the field.
The cathedral was too far—he would not reach it. Besides, his vision was already dimming.
But finally, after this terrible battle had ended, the guardian of the midpoint lay dead below.
That was enough. He could rest now. Whatever came next could wait.
His eyelids grew heavy. All sounds faded away.
Even the pain that had been excruciating fell away into something distant.
So much so that he did not hear the Spell's final whisper as darkness claimed him.
But make no mistake, it did speak.
[You have received an Echo: Silvershade Harrow.]
Looking up at the sky, yet another streak of red cut through the endless night. It seemed the Disaster of the West was about, most likely still on its hunt for power.
Sitting down and eating a slice of bread cultivated from the Bright Castle, Nephis and Cassie were alone together. In the background, the low murmur of chatter drifted through the stone corridors, blending with the distant clatter of armor and weary laughter.
Aside from still being somewhat shaken by the fact that Nightingale was here, Nephis also felt as if this would be one of the last times she would be able to relax.
Recently, meaning six hours ago, they had repelled yet another Nightmare Creature raid. Out of the hundreds who lived in the Bright Castle, ninety-three had died. Some were even Gunlang's hunters, veterans seasoned by countless battles. Nonetheless, their bodies lay out there all the same, stripped of titles and experience alike.
She was not sure what she was feeling now. She had never been good with her emotions. In truth, she was still learning how to be human, and she had learned much from Cassie.
She had learned much from Sunny as well. Sometimes, it was difficult to think about him. It was not easy to think about someone while not knowing whether they were dead or alive. Nephis found it deeply unsettling that Sunny had never made his way to the Bright Castle. Surely, after so many battles against Nightmare Creatures, he would have tried to find them again.
Either way, she had come to terms with it.
Or so she told herself.
"…Neph!"
'Huh?'
Nephis turned when she felt Cassie poke her cheek. Only then did she realize that Cassie had spoken and she had not heard her.
"Oh, sorry, Cassie. What did you say?"
Cassie sighed softly before repeating herself. "I asked if you were thinking about the future, Neph."
Nephis lingered for a few moments, then replied. "…Yes and no. That is hard to answer, Cassie. I…" She exhaled quietly. She had been doing that a lot lately. "I have already voiced my idea about confronting the Disasters. But even I cannot disregard everyone's opinion. The gap between us and Corrupted Devils, even if they are weakened, is still quite large. But it is not impossible."
Cassie's empty gaze remained turned toward her face. Then she lowered her head slightly. "Well, I, for one, agree with you. What are we going to do if they take the Crimson Spire? One of them already tried and only failed because it was not at full strength. And there are four of them."
"Which is why we should separate from Gunlang and go looking for the relics when we relocate."
Cassie's eyes snapped up. "What?"
Nephis shrugged faintly. "Our situation isn't going to improve. The longer we delay, the worse it will become. There is nothing on the Forgotten Shore that can contend with those Nightmare Creatures. Everything here is fuel to their fire, and I will not let them continue indefinitely."
Cassie fell silent for a few seconds, then slowly shook her head. "You are right, Neph. But still, I haven't seen anything about the locations of those weapons. Nor have I…"
Her expression shifted. A shadow crossed her face. She offered a small, sad smile, as if remembering something distant.
Nephis knew why Cassie had cut herself off. Even she found it difficult to think about him these days.
Cassie finished her thought anyway. "I haven't seen anything more on Sunny. H-He can't be dead, but he certainly is not doing well right now. What are we going to do if we leave this place entirely and Sunny is not there with us?"
Nephis answered without hesitation. "I am not leaving without him."
"Neph, you need to think realistically."
"Cassie, we are in the Dream Realm. 'Realistically?'"
"…You know what I mean."
Nephis sighed and looked back up at the night sky. With Cassie, she found herself more honest than usual. She did not have a name for it, but something within her regarded Cassie as more than just a friend. Perhaps it was because she had found her first in the Dark Sea. Or perhaps it was simply because Nephis needed someone with whom she could speak plainly.
"I do not know what else to say. Think realistically? I have never been capable of that."
Cassie smiled. "Well, that is for the better, really. If you did, I would not be alive, would I?"
Nephis looked at her with a still expression.
It was true.
If she had thought like a normal person, she would have left Cassie behind.
She had not.
She had not left her simply because she did not want to.
And she did not want to leave Sunny behind either.
So she gave Cassie a genuine smile. "You would not. And that is why I will not leave Sunny alone either."
Cassie felt Nephis stand up. She lifted her hand until she found Nephis's and felt herself being pulled gently to her feet.
"But how are you going to find him, Neph?" Cassie asked quietly.
Nephis glanced back and shrugged. "Simple. I will scour the entirety of the Dark City before we leave, and then drag him back by the neck."
Cassie's eyes widened, then she laughed softly. "If only I could see. That would be something to witness."
Nephis replied calmly, "You will hear it."
As they walked into the Bright Castle, they soon sensed the familiar presence of Effie speaking animatedly with Nightingale, while Caster coordinated with one of Gunlang's men nearby. The air was thick with the scent of food and sweat and exhaustion.
They did not truly live in the Bright Castle, not really. But the spoils of the raid were shared with them for their assistance. It was part of the alliance.
They walked deeper inside, intending to get a drink. As they did, Nephis abruptly turned her head and looked behind her.
Cassie felt the subtle change in her posture. "Neph?"
Nephis kept her gaze fixed on the grand castle gate.
Something felt off.
A scent lingered in the air.
Blood.
She almost turned and rushed back to investigate, but suddenly another scent overwhelmed it. Something sweet. Overpowering. It washed over her senses, cloying and suffocating, erasing the stench of rot entirely.
For a moment, her thoughts dulled.
When Cassie pulled her forward again, Nephis let herself be led.
She forgot about the gate.
She forgot about the blood.
She did not notice the man, drenched in red, slowly walking down the castle steps as not a single soul spared him a glance.
They walked deeper into the Bright Castle and were soon greeted by Gunlang. Nephis answered him in a cold tone, prompting him to raise his hands in mock surrender.
The gathering continued.
For a time, their burdens seemed lighter. Laughter rose unevenly. Some accepted that their ends might be near. They ate, whether the food was good or not, knowing that it might be their last meal. Today, tomorrow, next week. No one knew how long they had left.
The quiet march toward something none of them wished to name continued.
Unbeknownst to them, it had already reached its breaking point.
Far to the south, rising from the sea, the sound of a woman crying drifted across the dark waters.
It was a terrible sound.
Her tears flowed freely, painting the surface of the Dark Sea in trembling starlight. She wept and wept, wondering where her king had gone, what she had done to deserve such abandonment.
It did not matter.
Her memories were fog. Time had dulled them until only longing remained.
But she rose.
No, she had always been there.
She had lured many—Nightmare Creatures and Sleepers alike.
And now her time had come.
As the Disaster of the South moved toward her prey, a chapter of the Forgotten Shore neared its end.
And Nephis would not realize until the moment arrived that her dream of seeing Sunny again would become nothing more than a distant, fading memory.
That chance had never truly existed.
This was a cruel world.
A very cruel world indeed.
Somewhere deep within the body of the Bright Castle, far from the hall of feast and the wary murmur of survivors, a single room lay in silence.
Seishan stood alone.
The room was modest in size, yet every object within it had been arranged with precision. A low table of dark wood—a bronze mirror polished to a dull glow. Folded garments resting in perfect symmetry. Order was the language of her kind, and she spoke it fluently.
She looked like something of a dream.
The velvet of her dress flowed over her form in heavy, elegant lines. The fabric the color of deep red wine caught in candlelight. It clung where it needed to, softened where it should, turning her every movement into something composed.
The intricate silver necklace resting against her chest drew the eye to the graceful lines of her throat and the calm rise and fall of her breath. Two bracelets embraced her wrists, their faint chime the only sound that disturbed the silence when she moved.
Yet these were ornaments.
What commanded attention was her skin.
Grey like storm clouds gathering over a restless sea. Smooth as untouched silk. Flawless in a way that could be considered unnatural, as though this world itself had never dared to lay a finger on her.
Her lips parted slightly, revealing teeth that were perfectly even, impossibly white.
She was beautiful.
She was terrifying.
She was Seishan, leader of the handmaidens, the one who kept the interior of the Bright Castle running while their warriors played at glory. A hundred women moved at her command. They maintained the halls, tended to the needs of the host, preserved the crumbling illusion of order in a place that now teetered toward collapse.
Gunlang valued that order.
And hadn't Gunlang called for her, so many minutes ago?
She had not come, though.
For right now, a tidal wave had hit her.
Seishan staggered, her fingers pressing hard against the edge of the table as the world lurched sideways.
'What in—?'
The scent hit her a second time—her breath shuddered.
Blood.
So much… sweet… blood.
Overwhelmingly sweet.
It poured into her senses, so very intoxicating, flooding her veins with heat that made her knees weaken. Her heart began to pound, each beat too heavy. Her vision began to blur.
The room tilted. She lifted a hand to her head, digging her fingers into her temple as a tremor ran through her.
It felt like she was drunk. Was this what it was like?
No.
It felt worse. Her desires were magnified, and in the worst possible way.
She felt a raw, feral urge to move. To walk and find the source. To sink her teeth into that sweetness and drown in it.
Her breath came faster.
Her body leaned toward the door without her permission.
Seishan's eyes widened.
This was wrong. It was a lure—it had to be.
Beneath the intoxicating perfume of blood she sensed something else, something insidious, slipping through the cracks in her mind like pale mist. A distortion? No, a hallucinogenic touch meant to cloud one's judgment. Turn it into a leash.
Her lips curled slightly, revealing those perfect teeth in a silent snarl.
She was no fool.
She had survived too long in this castle to fall for mere compulsion.
S-She needed to warn the others…
Gunlang.
The hunters.
Nephis and her cohort.
The entire fragile structure that depended on her vigilance. She couldn't fail here.
She took a step—
Her body swayed.
The sweetness was too much for her. It crashed upon her, stronger this time, dragging at her thoughts. Her will was beginning to weaken.
Before she knew it, her hand was reaching for the door.
She froze.
No.
Her mind was slipping.
She could feel it, like slipping silk. If she walked out now, she would not stop. She would follow that scent like an obedient pet.
After such a long while of being on the Forgotten Shores, fear touched her heart once again.
Not the fear of death. The fear of losing control.
Her gaze sharpened.
Without hesitation, Seishan drew her arm back and struck herself at the side of the neck with brutal force, pouring all the strength she possessed into the blow.
She felt pain, and her world went white.
Her body crumpled instantly, the elegance stripped from it completely. She fell to the floor in a tangle of velvet and silver, her skin stark against the cold stone.
Still. Silent. Completely unconscious.
The room returned to perfect order, as if nothing had happened at all.
Outside, the castle continued its gathering, unaware that by small increments, more and more people were vanishing at a time. Voices rose and footsteps passed. Bitter laughter echoed down the castle's walls.
None of the hundred handmaidens came.
None of the warriors noticed.
And the leader of those who maintained the heart of the Bright Castle lay alone on the floor, the storm of her skin dim in the shadowed room, while the unseen tide crept closer.
By the time anyone realized she was missing, it would already be far too late.
High above the Bright Castle, where the stone peaks of its towers clawed at the dead sky, Gunlang stood at the edge of a wind-carved parapet and looked out over the Forgotten Shore.
The land below was a corpse.
The foundations were dead, the trees were dead, even the air was dead. And if one focused—if one truly looked—they could see it moving. Not the wind, though.
Nightmare Creatures.
They crawled between ruins, stalked the dunes, gathered in numbers that made the mind go under stress. A slow, patient tide of hunger.
Gunlang breathed in.
The air tasted of salt and rot.
Something was wrong.
He felt it the same way he felt the tremor before a siege—deep in his bones. A strange, hollow sensation. The echo within his soul shifted uneasily, liquid gold churning without command. His usual presence, that effortless charisma that bent men and women to his will, was… gone.
He didn't feel like Gunlang.
Most thought the castle stood because of strength. Because of order. Because of him.
They were wrong.
It was a farce.
The order. The discipline. The indulgence. Even the illusion of safety.
A stage play performed atop a grave.
He had known for a long time that this day would come. Death had greeted him once before, eight years ago, when he was dragged to this accursed shore as a boy of nineteen. Twenty-seven now. Eight years spent making a kingdom from ruin.
Nineteen.
Truly young. As young as the newcomers who had arrived this Winter Solstice, eyes bright with terror and foolish hope.
He had told Gemma recently: enjoy the spoils. Have fun with the handmaidens. Earn your reward.
It had been fun.
But none of it had been good.
He smirked beneath the golden helm, though there was no warmth in it. Changing Star still hated him. Of course she did. And perhaps she was right.
She could never have done better.
But he could have.
Humans were disgusting creatures. Cruel. Selfish. Capable of horrors far greater than any abomination that crawled below.
"The real monsters," he muttered softly, "are us."
Footsteps approached.
His echo surged instinctively, gold flooding his body like molten sunlight. He turned.
Sleeper Nightingale—Kai.
And beside him, Sleeper Athena—Effie.
They stopped a respectful distance away. Unlike most, they didn't bow to him.
"Gunlang," Kai said quietly.
Effie crossed her arms and scoffed. "Tyrant."
Gunlang tilted his head.
"Kai. Effie."
There was no thunder in his voice tonight. No theatrical grandeur. All he felt was… tired.
"…Is there something you wanted?"
Kai hesitated. He lingered, as if hoping the sky would help him speak. Then, finally:
"Gunlang… do we have an actual plan?"
Gunlang studied him for a long moment, then glanced at Effie. She didn't speak, but her eyes asked the same question—though far more bluntly.
Perhaps Nephis had sent them.
He turned back toward the dead horizon.
"In the coming days," he said evenly, "once we prepare a route, we are abandoning the castle."
Silence.
Kai's composure broke first. "Abandoning? But—how? We can't move that many people! There's no clear path. Nightmare Creatures replace their dead within hours. The Fallen Beasts alone—"
"Well!" Gunlang spread a hand lightly. "What to do…?"
He turned back with a faint, humorless laugh.
Kai did not laugh.
Gunlang's smile faded.
"Nightingale," he said, voice softening, "there is no safe path toward safety. In truth, there is no safety at all. It's over. Whether this is the will of the gods or my sins finally coming due, most of us are already dead. Did you think I prepared that feast for nothing?"
Kai went pale. "S-So—"
"Damn," Effie cut in, rubbing the back of her neck. "I really hoped you had something in mind, old tyrant."
Gunlang raised a brow beneath the helm.
'Old?'
"I'm twenty-seven," he muttered under his breath.
Then louder:
"That is something in mind, Effie. If Changing Star has a better idea, I'm listening. But the Bright Castle—no—this entire side of the region is finished. We're too close to the sea. If I'm being honest, the catacombs will soon be safer than this place."
Effie's expression darkened.
The catacombs were not a refuge. They were a nightmare layered deep underground.
Kai swallowed. "What about… everyone else?"
Gunlang blinked.
"What about them?"
Kai stared at him as though struck. "You're sending them to their deaths. Moving as one group will attract every Nightmare Creature for miles!"
Gunlang exhaled slowly.
"And staying here is a death sentence. I don't believe we have four days. Perhaps not even two. Today alone, I killed two Fallen Monsters and three Beasts by myself. Changing Star and I were forced to fight side by side to slay five more Fallen Beasts."
He let that settle.
"They're increasing. Every day."
Effie grimaced. "That makes no damn sense. Is every monster on the Shore suddenly hungry for our sorry butts?"
Gunlang gave a slight shrug.
"Perhaps. Or perhaps one of the Disasters is a Corrupted-Tyrant. Truly… who knows?"
Effie studied him.
"You're not acting like yourself, Gunlang. Where did your charisma go? Your casualness? What, life flashing before your eyes?"
He did not answer immediately.
Instead, he lifted his hand and looked at his palm, as though expecting to see blood there.
Time passed for a couple of seconds.
"Perhaps," he said quietly.
That was not the response they expected.
More footsteps echoed across stone.
Gunlang lifted his head.
Caster. Nephis. Cassie.
And behind them—Harus, Tessai, Gemma, Kido.
He stared.
Was his entire host drunk?
Gemma looked off—unfocused, like someone listening to distant music no one else could hear. Kido's usual composure wavered. Tessai stood proudly, but there was something strained in his jaw.
Nephis—
She did not look stoic.
She looked like someone holding herself together through sheer, iron will. Her calm was brittle and forced.
Cassie seemed unchanged at first glance, but her skin was pale. Sickly pale.
Caster looked exhausted.
Gunlang slowly turned in a circle, taking them all in.
"…Is this some sort of gathering?" he asked, genuine confusion in his voice. "A council of top dogs? Important figures? I confess, I am rather lost."
No one laughed.
The wind howled past the parapet.
Nephis stepped forward.
For a moment, Gunlang thought she might sway.
She didn't.
She shook her head once, steadying herself, pale eyes burning with something sharp and urgent.
"Yes," she said evenly. "We need to plan our route out of the Dark City."."
Notes:
Hi hi! I wanted to ask something quickly about a specific moment in an upcoming chapter (more than a little far away). It would only happen once, but would anyone mind if ORV styled messages appeared? If you have not read ORV, it might feel a little unfamiliar at first, though I do not think it would be out of place in the story overall.
Let me know what you think!
Aside from that, as you can probably tell, [Part 1] is slowly but surely heading toward the finish line. I would say we are either close to or already halfway there. It really depends on chapter lengths and how many plot points I decide to show in a given chapter.
You might have noticed that some events were skimmed ahead or slightly rushed. If you did, that was intentional. If you did not notice… even better.
Thank you for reading!