Shadow Slave: Foreign shadow

​”Ah... ah... ah...”

​Someone was laughing.

It was a sound filled with jagged madness, fitful and broken, like a beast straining against the bars of its cage.

​Sunny was slumped on the floor of the police station bathroom, his back pressed against the cold wall. His head was tucked between his drawn-up knees, his hands clutching his forehead as if he feared it might shatter and fall away at any moment.

​The world was spinning. It was as if someone had placed the entire room inside a centrifuge and slammed the button for maximum power.

​He could barely breathe. His skin, already pale, had turned a sickly, translucent white. A cold sweat soaked through his clothes. In his mind, a fire had been ignited—not one that warmed, but one that consumed, threatening to make his skull explode from the sheer pressure.

​”Ahahaha!” Meanwhile, the laughter continued, relentless. It was growing more fluid, more manic with every passing second.

​’Who is laughing?!’ Sunny screamed internally. He wanted to lift his head, to look around, to find the source of that mocking sound, but the moment he tried to move, his muscles betrayed him.

​He couldn’t even think straight. A part of him—the old reader, the cynical observer—wanted to slap him. If he were still just reading a novel, he would have complained about a protagonist wasting time wallowing in self-pity.

​But this wasn’t a story anymore.

It was as if the entire world had collapsed onto his shoulders. His heart felt like it would burst through his ribs with every thundering beat. Slowly, he lowered his right hand to his neck, desperate to confirm that his head and body were still connected. As he did, he felt it through his fingertips: his jaw was moving rhythmically, up and down.

​”Ahahahahahah!”

​

’Aaah! So that’s who’s laughing.’

​Sunny was trapped in a labyrinth of fear and insanity where there was no exit, only an eternal, spiraling descent. Until...

​>

​A voice, faint and distant, was calling him.

​>

​Gradually, the voice grew clearer, sharpening into a beacon of light in the drowning dark.

​>

​’Who...?’ Sunny managed to formulate through the cacophony of his own laughter and despair.

​>

​’The pendant?’

​Reason had abandoned him, but in the dark, bottomless abyss where his sanity was falling, instinct took over.

​Suddenly, sparks of light manifested before him like fireflies in a moonless night. They swirled and condensed in the air, weaving themselves into a shape. From the shimmering mist, an exquisite pendant appeared—a green emerald prism engraved with ancient, flickering runes.

​The chain slipped through the air, landing silently on his lap. The moment it touched the fabric of his pants, a warm, soft light—green and fresh like grass kissed by morning dew—enveloped the room.

​The mad laughter ceased instantly.

​Sunny felt as if he were waking from a suffocating nightmare. With trembling hands, he cupped [Hero’s Solace] between his palms and bowed his head, pressing his face toward the gem to absorb its warmth.

​His heartbeat stabilized, slowing from a frantic storm to the steady, rhythmic beat of a drum. Breath by breath, he returned to himself.

Finally, he could feel the cold reality of the sweat drenching his clothes.

​He sat there for a long time, not daring to let go of the pendant for even a second. It was his only lifeline in an open, hostile sea.

​Finally, closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the wall and took one last, deep breath. He counted to ten, then slowly exhaled.

[Hero’s Solace] continued to glow with a pleasant, comforting light between his fingers.

​> the Jiminy Cricket asked. His voice was thick with anxiety and genuine concern.

​In his mind, Sunny could see the imaginary creature standing stiffly on his knee, looking up at him with worried eyes, clutching his oversized top hat against his chest.

​”Yeah. Thank you,” Sunny whispered, taking a final, shuddering breath.

​He placed a hand on his right knee, attempting to stand, but his legs buckled immediately.

​THUMP.

​”Ouch.”

​> the Cricket warned, his concern deepening.

​On the second attempt, Sunny pressed his palms against the tiles of the wall behind him. Fighting through the ache of lactic acid and the lingering tremors, he slowly levered himself up, using all four limbs until he was finally, shakily, upright.

***

Finally back on his feet and relatively calm, Sunny slipped the chain around his neck, settling the emerald prism against his chest like a lifeline.

​He looked up at the clock mounted above the bathroom door. Barely twenty minutes had passed since he first stepped into the shower.

​’A bit too convenient, wasn’t it? Receiving the perfect tool for a mental breakdown right when I needed it,’ Sunny thought as he found his balance. It felt as if Fate were meticulously assembling a puzzle using the jagged pieces of his life.

​> the Jiminy Cricket whispered, mimicking Sunny’s wary expression as he clung to his right shoulder to steady himself. >

​Sunny snorted but didn’t argue.

​The light from the emerald prism had faded, but [Hero’s Solace] remained heavy against his skin, a silent sentinel protecting him from the creeping edges of madness and despair.

​

’Now... if I’m not mistaken, I was supposed to check my Aspect, right?’ Sunny asked, desperately changing the subject to avoid another relapse into vertigo.

​> his Flaw agreed, clearly eager to move past the state of shock.

​Pushing the mystery of [Foreign] into a dark corner of his mind for the time being, Sunny summoned his runes once more.

---

​Aspect: [Shadow Chalice]

Aspect Rank: Divine

Aspect Description: [You are a miraculous shadow left behind by a dead God. As a divine shadow, you possess plenty of strange and wondrous powers. However, your existence is empty and lonesome; no being can cast your existence. The Chalice you bear is your only master.]

​Innate Ability: [Shapeless Shade]

Ability Description: [Your Chalice is full; now only one final step remains for the receptacle to take its shape. It demands sacrifices.]

​Aspect Ability: [Shadow Control].

Ability Description: [Your shadow is more independent than most. It is empathetic and an invaluable helper.]

Aspect Legacy: [Shadow Dance]

Shadow Dance Mastery Level: [0/7]

First Relic: Unearned

Second Relic: Unearned

Third...

---

​As he read the shimmering magical symbols, a faint, genuine smile finally touched his lips.

​

’At least I don’t have [Shadow Bond],’ he mused. ’Though this new Innate Ability is significantly more ambiguous than being someone’s slave.’

​Sunny turned his gaze downward, focusing on the dark silhouette stretched across the tiles. His shadow.

Sunny gazed at his shadow with intense interest. To any outside observer, the dark silhouette looked like any other—still, silent, and bound to its master’s movements.

​Then, without breaking eye contact, he let his lips curl into a small smirk.

”Hey there, Gloomy.”

​The shadow shuddered for a fraction of a second, caught off guard. Then it snapped back into place, freezing as if nothing had happened.

​Sunny’s expression turned stern. ”Don’t bother playing dead. I know you’re breathing,” he said, his voice firm and steady.

​The shadow let out a visible, silent sigh, dropping its head in defeat.

​Sunny closed his eyes. In the back of his mind, a new faculty flickered to life: the Shadow sense.

​He could perceive the presence of every shadow in the vicinity. He could distinguish their forms and recognize which belonged to the living and which were cast by inanimate objects.

​

’How far does this reach? A kilometer? Two at most?’

​But then he noticed something more.

These shadows didn’t just have shapes; they radiated emotions.

​In the next room, a portly policeman sat in bliss, savoring a pastry. A few doors down, another officer was stuttering through a conversation with a female colleague, desperately trying to find the courage to ask her out. Poor guy—he had no idea she already knew, nor that she was already in a relationship. Two meters to the right, in another room entirely, there was a... statue of ice?

​Further still, at the very edge of his perception, he felt Jet. She was on the phone, talking to someone. He couldn’t overhear the conversation or identify the voice on the other end, but Sunny deduced she was likely filing a report, considering she was the Master tasked with overseeing his First Nightmare.

​Sunny withdrew his senses and opened his eyes. It had been a mystical, almost intoxicating experience.

​”Wow!” he breathed. ’I’m going to need a lot of practice with this.’

​> the Jiminy Cricket groaned. Sunny saw him swaying, clutching his head as if the sudden influx of sensory data had given him a bout of motion sickness.

​With that done, there was still one final thing he needed to do.

In the next instant, Sunny summoned all his Memories, save for [Hero’s Solace], which already hung protectively around his neck.

He donned the [Puppeteer’s Shroud], settled the [Crimson Cloak] over his shoulders, and gripped his faithful [Deplorable Dagger].

​To complete the set, he attached the [Silver Bell] to the right side of his armor’s belt.

​A large, rectangular mirror spanned the bathroom wall, reflecting the room in its entirety.

​Standing before it now was a young man with hair as black as ink and eyes that held the depth of a dark abyss. He wore a black shroud accented with grey leather; a crimson mantle draped from his shoulders, falling past his ankles like a river of blood. An emerald prism glowed softly against his chest, and in his hand, he held a black dagger with a serpentine blade, its hilt wrapped in tattered red bandages. At his hip, an exquisite silver bell caught the dim light.

​Sunny studied his reflection, a surge of grim satisfaction welling up within him. He struck several poses, slashing the air with his dagger to test the weight of his new gear.

​Having finished his brief moment of vanity, his gaze finally locked onto a specific string of runes.

​Shadows: [Myriad Shade].

Gazing at that shimmering golden string among the glowing runes of the Spell, Sunny felt a tightening in his chest. It was a warm tide of relief, thick with passion, yet tainted by a sinful, selfish spark of gratitude.

​

’I truly loved Thene,’ he realized, the thought echoing in his ribcage like a gunshot. ’But her feelings weren’t meant for me. They were for the boy I inhabited during the Nightmare: Thamriel.’

​The Jiminy Cricket, sitting perched on his shoulder, gave him a small, sympathetic pat. > he whispered affectionately. >

​Bolstered by his Flaw’s counsel, Sunny took a slow, steadying breath. He summoned his courage.

​Then, as if emerging from beneath a heavy black veil, a living darkness rose from Sunny’s shadow. The shapeless mass of ink swirled and coalesced, taking form. It became a young woman of otherworldly beauty, with hair like a starless midnight sky that cascaded down to her hips. Her body was slender and athletic, as if sculpted by a dark divinity; every curve and every delicate feature of her face was sublime, captivating to the eye.

​The woman of pure shadows rose in a fetal position, the surrounding darkness wrapping around her and solidifying into a gown of black that seemed to devour the light itself.

When her feet finally touched the floor, Myriad Shade opened her eyes, revealing two gems of pure obsidian behind her dark lids.

​The first thing she saw was a young man clad in black, a crimson mantle draped behind him.

​Sunny’s heart hammered against his ribs. A thousand conflicting emotions raced through his mind, unable to find peace or common ground. What would she do? How would she see him?

​Myriad Shade took a single step forward. Reaching Sunny, she didn’t strike or speak.

Instead, she reached out and pulled him into a silent, crushing embrace.