Shadow Slave: Foreign shadow

Auro wondered where it had all gone wrong.

​His right hand instinctively reached for the pocket holding the pendant of Orphne’s prism, seeking some solace within the heart of the gift.

Had it been the raid on the Temple of Shadow God? Had they invited some divine retribution upon themselves, or was this merely a cruel, calculated twist of Fate?

​’...you are all slaves to Fate.’

​His mind raced, drifting back to his companions. The Nine.

Were they doing fine? Had they encountered similar trials in their own journeys? Had they drawn the eyes of the Gods prematurely?

Auro had no answers, and he certainly lacked the luxury of time to seek them.

​A pale, white sun hung parallel to the horizon, suspended over a vast expanse of jagged stone blanketed in pristine snow. Its golden rays were severed only by the majestic silhouette of the forgotten temple, casting a long, dark shadow—a sundial pointing precisely to a quarter past noon, engulfing the three adversaries in gloom.

​Auro looked to his left. There stood a young man with black hair, clad in a shroud as grey as ash, wielding a dagger with a blade as dark as the abyss within his eyes. To his right stood his general, a man who looked more at home in the afterlife than in this world. Goliath’s crimson mantle was beyond tattered; his black tempered steel armor was so ruined it barely clung to his frame. His lone left hand still gripped his faithful greatsword, but it trembled. He was at his limit.

​Auro himself was not faring any better. If one were to harvest the remaining strength of all three and divide it equally, the sum would barely equal a single healthy warrior at the start of a journey.

​Goliath was the first to shatter the heavy silence. ”Well then, should I—” ​But the luxury of speech was denied him. In that same heartbeat, a black blade was hurled at him with lethal fervor.

​The Champion of War parried the dagger with the flat of his greatsword. The weapon bounced with a sharp metallic ring, landing softly as it sank into the white mantel below.

​”Done with your tricks?” the boy in the dark grey shroud hissed. Then, as if by sorcery, the black dagger dissolved into white sparks and reappeared in his palm.

​Goliath let out a short, booming laugh. He licked his lips, ready to plunge into the fray.

​Auro’s eyes darted between them.

The clash was inevitable. He wanted nothing more than to end this with words, to simply walk away, but it was clear that neither of his opponents intended to waste another breath.

​Even through his naivety, the Hero realized that the mountain itself demanded that only one remain. The same invisible, formless presence radiating from the temple—its ancestral guardian—seemed to be waiting for this.

​Auro tightened his grip, letting go of his memories and bringing both hands onto the hilt of his sword.

​Sunny raised the [Deplorable Dagger], his body coiled like a spring.

​Goliath tensed his remaining muscles, lowering the tip of his greatsword to the snow, ready to snap forward. With a single thunderous step that echoed like a crack of doom, he made the first move.

Goliath’s body lunged forward, launched with the devastating force of a ballista bolt. With a massive horizontal sweep from the left, his greatsword shrieked through the air.

​Auro was the first in its trajectory. He parried the blow head-on, digging his heels into the frozen earth to weather the impact. Iron locked against iron, a shower of sparks dying as quickly as the blades that birthed them.

​As the two locked eyes and steel, Sunny struck like a viper. His dagger sank into Goliath’s right flank, the [Treacherous] enchantment wasting no time in draining the giant’s remaining strength.

​Feeling the sting at his side, the Champion of War delivered a brutal headbutt to Auro, staggering the Hero, and immediately followed with a lashing kick aimed at the shadow stabbing him.

​Sunny released his grip on the dagger and rolled away, narrowly avoiding the heavy boot and the subsequent blade-arc that sought to cleave him. Even so, the giant’s greatsword passed close enough to shear a lock of black hair from his head.

The dagger disappeared in white sparkles immediately after, letting the stab bleed.

​Recovering from the headbutt, Auro charged back into the fray, his sword moving with the rhythm of the mountain wind. Shifting his focus back to the Hero, Goliath used the flat of his blade like a shield to parry two consecutive strikes, raising his right knee to intercept a desperate kick to his shins.

​Suddenly, a snowball caught Auro square in the face. Blunted by the distraction, he failed to see the punch aimed at his nose. The Hero was sent reeling backward by Goliath’s fist, his blood painting a wide, scarlet arc in the air that stained the pristine snow.

​Scrambling to his feet, a disoriented Auro lashed out at Sunny. The boy caught the Hero’s sword-edge with the notch of his dagger and rolled away, slipping out of reach.

​Blades sang—a symphony of metal performed in a theater of shadows and snow. The sparks from their collisions flickered like dying stars against the horizon, fueled by the inextinguishable fire of their feud. And as they bled, the shadow of the time-worn Temple shifted, as if turning its gaze toward the precipice a few meters to the right.

Both Goliath and Auro were on their knees, facing each other upon the white expanse, propped up by their weapons.

Their legs had carved deep furrows into the snow. They breathed in ragged, heavy heaves; their chests expanded and collapsed in sync with the thick plumes of vapor erupting from their mouths. Their blood had become a second skin, coating them in a grisly, frozen sheen.

​Yet, neither was willing to surrender the victory to the other.

​”You look tired, Rookie,” Goliath huffed, struggling to find words between gasps. ”Want to... take a break?”

​Auro shot him a defiant, bloody smirk. ”Nah! I can do this all day.”

​They both tried to stand, Auro levering himself up on his hilt and the Champion of War on his greatsword. But before their legs could fully straighten, Goliath snapped the muscles of his lone arm and hurled his weapon at the Hero.

​The massive greatsword spun rhythmically through the air, closing the distance in wide, vertical arcs of whistling iron.

​Auro was caught off guard, but his tempered instincts flared to life. He threw himself to the right, narrowly avoiding the metal slab that would have pulverized his skull upon impact.

​Before he could recover, however, Goliath was already upon him. Charging like a maddened bull and letting out a primal, supernatural shriek, the Champion reached Auro in a few explosive strides, lunging down and seizing him by the throat. ​Hoisting his opponent with his single left arm, Goliath slammed Auro back into the ground and dragged him through the snow like a force of nature.

​Auro left a long, ragged trail in his wake. His armor absorbed the worst of the friction, but the giant was grinding him into the frozen earth with merciless intent. Goliath didn’t stop; still gripping Auro’s throat, he hauled him up the ancient stairs of the temple, Auro’s head snapping against every stone step.

​They breached the sanctuary’s portal, the Champion using the Hero like a rag to buff the path. The ancient, solitary guardian of the temple let them pass—perhaps amused by the wretchedness of their struggle, or perhaps because both intruders were already so close to death’s door.

​They entered the wrecked interior together. Auro finally managed to bring both hands to the giant’s forearm, beginning to claw and resist, though his sword had been lost along with his enemy’s blade.

​They found themselves in a vast hall invaded by drifts of snow that had poured through jagged fissures in the ceiling. The white had completely conquered the ancestral floor.

​As they reached the center of the hall, the giant leapt, taking his prey with him. At the apex of the jump, the Champion of War hurled the Hero down onto the frozen floor.

​Auro landed hard, his body rolling and skidding across the stone, his bones popping with every impact.

Goliath crashed back to earth, his knee hitting the floor with a thud; the snow here was not soft, but a deceptive bed of solid ice. He stayed down for a moment, his lone arm trembling from the sheer exertion.

​Auro tried to push himself up, vomiting a staggering amount of blood. In the end, he remained on all fours, staring at the floor as his vision swam.

​Watching him, still gasping for air after his war-cry, Goliath asked again, ”So... how about that break now?”

​Auro bared his teeth at the floor, splashing another crimson stain onto the white. He replied with the same mocking rasp as before. ”I can... do this... all day.”

​They stayed like that for a moment—broken, exhausted, unable to move, yet refusing to yield.

​”Hey, idiots!”

​A sudden, clear voice cut through the silence.

​Turning simultaneously, Goliath and Auro looked toward the far end of the vast hall. There, standing atop a large altar carved from a single block of black marble, was a boy.

He wore a dark grey shroud layered with charcoal fabric and matte leather. His skin was pale, his eyes as black as the abyss, and his hair as dark as the night.

​His hands were held out in front of him. His onyx eyes watched his challengers—who only now realized his sudden disappearance during the fight—as if they were rats in a cage.

​In his right hand, he gripped a black dagger with a hilt wrapped in scarlet bandages. The dark blade was pressed against his left palm.

​”Eyes on me.”

​Sunny spoke, and then he drew the blade across his hand.

A single drop of fresh, dark blood fell onto the surface of the sacred altar beneath his feet.