Shadow Slave

The Deathless Spirit towered above the shadow of the Wolf, and in the darkness of the night, he seemed like a black mountain that obscured the distant, radiant ocean of stars. He might not have been stronger than the Sacred shade, but his Will was far superior…

Sunny was not even sure that calling it superior would be the right word. The difference between his own Will and that of the Archon was like the difference between a clear brook and a vast sea. Like the difference between a stone fortress and the boundless expanse of the wide world that surrounded it.

The Archon did not possess a weakness that Sunny could easily exploit, either.

In the battle against Abundance, Sunny had been able to lock it in space and slowly poison the enormous godworm with his Death Will — but the Archon was Deathless.

In the battle against the Rat King, Sunny had been able to destroy the single rat that was the source of the terrifying swarm, thus cutting its connection to the Puppeteer, and watched the rats devour each other to satiate their maddening hunger. But there was no single weak spot that could be used to destroy the Archon, and no one was in control of him.

In the battle against the Wolf, Sunny had been able to grasp the concept wielded by the enemy and personify its opposite. That allowed him to hold out long enough to use the Cursed Demon’s own terrifying power to fuel the grand spell he had woven in advance, thus destroying it. But there was no spell that could help Sunny against the Archon…

And the Archon did not seem to wield any concept, either.

Or rather, it did, but it was of no help to Sunny.

After exchanging the first blows with the Deathless Spirit, Sunny had gotten a better taste of his Will. And what he found was that the ancient horror seemed similar to Azarax, the Plague of Steel, in some regard. There was almost nothing common between them, except for one thing that mattered most.

Azarax was Supreme, and therefore, his Will had an innate affinity — just like Sunny’s Will was innately tied to death, while Neph’s was connected to desire and longing. What of the Plague of Steel, then? What affinity did his Will possess? What concept did he personify, or at least would grow to personify if he ever underwent Apotheosis?

Sunny had racked his brain about it for a while, observing the ancient tyrant closely in the ferocious battles they fought. The answer he eventually arrived at was, needless to say, quite surprising.

The Deathless Sovereign’s Will expressed only one concept, and that concept was… himself. The natural affinity of Azarax, the Plague of Steel, was to nothing more and nothing less than Azarax himself.

Perhaps he was too arrogant and full of deadly ambition to tie the concept of himself to any greater force — after all, as far as Azarax was concerned, there was no force and no element that was greater than him. In the end, all of existence, including all the elements and forces contained within it, was meant to submit and bow down before him.

The Archon was very similar, albeit for a different reason. The Deathless Spirit was not overcome by an insatiable lust for conquest, but whatever it had been, whatever concept he had personified, whatever kind of Apotheosis he had undergone was washed away by the curse of Shadow God and the merciless passage of years.

Now, he was an empty, fallen deity that personified nothing but himself. Whatever made him the Wandering Archon had been erased and swallowed by oblivion, and so, he wielded no power but the power of godhood itself — the power to reshape the world according to his Will.

On one hand, it was a great relief. After all, Sunny still remembered his terrifying experiences in Ariel’s Game, especially the days that were mysteriously missing from his memory — the days of the battle against the eerie Snow Demon that had infected their minds. He also remembered the Cursed Demon Abjuration, which had come close to wiping out all of humanity during its battle against Nephis.

So, it was a boon that the Archon did not remember how to wield his powers, whatever those powers might have been. At the same time, it put Sunny at a disadvantage, because there was no concept for him to counteract or channel the opposite of. There was nothing for him to exploit, and so, all he could do was try to match the Deathless Spirit in a contest of brute force.

Luckily, the Wolf was not helpless in the fight against an overwhelmingly strong enemy. Yes, the Archon was far greater than it, towering above the giant beast like a dark mountain… but the Archon had been a human once, or at least a creature that resembled humans.

And there were very few things humans feared more than a predator stalking them in the night.

After that first clash, where the Wolf received a devastating blow, it changed tactics, channeling all the cunning and ferociousness of a primeval beast. At the same time, having become one with the Wolf, Sunny reshaped himself in the image of a wolf and sharpened his Will for a focused, singular purpose.

That purpose was to force a concept upon the hollow deity of Ariel’s Hell, on the Spirit who had been the Wandering Archon once. The concept of prey.

When the Deathless Spirit and the Wolf clashed for the second time, the world rippled and twisted like a piece of crumpled paper. The Nightmare Desert shook.

The Wolf did not manage to bring down the Archon… but this time, it managed to escape unscathed, if only just barely. A split second later, it was already moving through the shadows, ready to attack the enemy again.

Time was flowing, and the Deathless Spirit was focusing on the Wolf instead of turning his attention to the Shadow Legion…

So, even if Sunny was in pain after enduring a heavy blow to his soul, he was accomplishing his mission.

Out there on the battlefield, the Shadow Legion and the undead warriors serving Azarax were making their way forward. However, their pace had slowed down to a crawl, and they were suffering casualties at a far greater rate than before.

After all, Sunny’s absence could not be ignored. Not only had he acted as not one, but seven deadliest champions of the invading army, splitting the tide of the Deathless before they could reach the battle formation, but he was also the commander of the Shadow Legion. Now that he had to pour all of his attention into the battle against the Archon, his shades could only follow Saint.

And Saint, despite her [War Master] Attribute, was yet incomplete. She was a mere Devil, after all — so, her ability to lead armies was going to remain rudimentary for as long as she did not rise to the Class of Tyrant.

Added to that was the fact that the Deathless Spirit’s Will was still fueling the undead prisoners of the Nightmare Desert with indomitable resolve. The world itself was playing favorites, assisting the Deathless while obstructing their enemies. Nephis was not there to heal and mend the wounded shades anymore, either, since she was fighting on the frontline.

So, the invading army was suffering. The shades were being slowly whittled down and vanquished. Even the undead warriors of Azarax were starting to be destroyed — just like Sunny and Nephis had dismantled and obliterated the Deathless before, the Deathless were not dismantling the turncoats.

The curse of Shadow God would probably restore them, eventually — but not nearly fast enough to be of use for the expedition to the Tomb of Ariel.

Azarax seemed to have pushed himself even further than before, rampaging among the enemy like a spirit of inevitability and destruction. However, even his terrifying strength was not enough to turn the tide of this losing battle…

Nephis had to get involved and fill the great chasm left by Sunny’s absence, somehow — even if she possessed only one body, not seven, and could not control the Shadow Legion at all.

So, that was what she did.

At first, she simply summoned the Blessing and entered the melee, serving as the spearhead of the slowly advancing formation. Her sublime swordsmanship revealed itself in all its glory, and as flashes of brilliant white light illuminated the dark mass of the charging Deathless, her lithe figure could be seen moving between them, cutting one after another down.

But, of course, that was not enough.

Even channeling her flames through the Blessing to unleash incinerating rays of pure light was not enough, since the Deathless were too numerous and too powerful, resisting the devastating power of her burning soul with daunting efficiency.

Having dismantled another skeleton and crushed its skull under her foot, Nephis stopped for a moment and looked over the endless horde of the Deathless, her gaze turning cold.

She closed her eyes for a heartbeat and exhaled slowly.

When she opened her eyes again, they were full of immolating white flame.

A soft white radiance ignited under her skin. Then, it grew brilliant and blinding, until there was nothing soft about it, and as Neph’s tunic collapsed into a whirlwind of white sparks, she assumed the form of the Spirit of Light — of a being whose body was woven out of pure radiance and flame, not mortal flesh.

When she did, the night of Ariel’s Hell did not seem so dark anymore.

That radiant form, however, was not Neph’s true and full Transformation.

It was merely a shell that contained the boundless ocean of her soul flame in a radiant vessel.

And now, Nephis chose to open that vessel, unleashing herself upon the world.