Fate's Slave - Shadow Slave X Honkai Star Rail

As the storm of steel descended once more, Sunny began to perceive the pattern hidden beneath Yanqing’s relentless assault. It was not merely that the young swordsman summoned blades in overwhelming quantity. The true threat lay in what he did to them after they appeared. Each sword hummed with condensed Soul Essence, its edge trembling not from instability but from reinforcement. Yanqing did not allow his constructs to remain hollow manifestations. He filled them.

Sunny felt it every time he struck one aside. The resistance was wrong. It was not the brittle hardness of a conjured weapon, nor the fluid flexibility of an Essence-made projection. It was closer to striking a living limb. The blades responded to Yanqing’s will with intimate precision, adjusting their trajectories mid-collision as if pain had informed them.

He attempted to imitate it in the middle of combat, drawing Essence through the Shadowspawn Shell and forcing it along the length of Soul Serpent’s odachi form. The first attempt collapsed almost instantly. The flow surged too quickly, pooling near the hilt before sputtering unevenly toward the tip. When he tried to compress it for a Super Duper Shadow Attack, the current fractured, dispersing into the surrounding air in a harmless pulse.

A thin smile curved across the swordsman’s lips as he redirected three greatblades toward Sunny’s exposed flank. Sunny twisted, one claw deflecting the first, his tail smashing the second, while the third scraped along his armored ribs. Sparks burst in monochrome, and he felt the faint tremor of impact reverberate through his internal lattice of shadow.

The difference between them was not power. It was affinity.

Yanqing’s affinity toward blades was absolute. He did not treat them as tools. He treated them as extensions of self. When he forced Soul Essence into a sword, he did not push it outward with effort. He circulated it naturally, as blood circulated through muscle.

Sunny did not possess that instinctive bond.

He had learned Shadow Resonance from Kafka, and the memory surfaced sharply amid the chaos. Kafka’s soul extended far beyond the boundaries of her physical body. When she performed a Super Duper Soul Attack(?), she did not appear to strain. She simply widened herself until her weapon fell within her spiritual domain. It was an act of expansion rather than projection, something he believed all Saints could do.

Sunny had been trying to replicate the technique mechanically.

That was the mistake.

Another cluster of blades descended in layered arcs, forcing him backward. He parried with two arms while the other two intercepted flanking strikes, his movements precise but increasingly analytical. Even as he fought, he adjusted his internal flow of Essence. Instead of channeling it directly into Soul Serpent, he allowed it to circulate freely through the Shadowspawn Shell first. His manifested body was made of shadow and Essence interwoven. There was no separation between medium and self. When he moved Essence through his limbs, it flowed without obstruction.

Soul Serpent, however, remained distinct.

Unless it did not have to be.

He glanced down at the odachi in his grasp and made a decision mid-parry. With a flicker of will, he dismissed the blade. The massive weapon dissolved into black vapor and reformed as a tattoo winding along his arm and across his chest. The shift was immediate. The drain on his control lessened. His Essence flow stabilized.

Yanqing did not pause to question the change. He intensified his barrage, perhaps interpreting the dismissal of the weapon as weakness, or maybe as a threat. The sky above them churned with steel, and each descending blade carried reinforced force.

Sunny welcomed the pressure.

Without the external form of Soul Serpent occupying his hands, he fought purely with the Devilish body he had constructed. Four arms became a blur of coordinated motion. He allowed Essence to circulate through his entire form in a continuous loop, neither compressing nor detonating it. He simply maintained flow.

Meanwhile, beyond their duel, the Saints reshaped the world.

Dan Heng, in his dragon form, commanded wind and water with sovereign authority. Storm clouds spiraled around his serpentine body, lightning coiling between his horns before lancing downward in jagged spears. Blade answered with brutal persistence, his chained anvil swinging in devastating arcs that shattered tidal waves and split the air. Arrows of condensed force streaked upward, detonating against scales with concussive blasts.

The shoreline disintegrated under their struggle. Ice erupted where frost-laden currents collided with infernal heat, and shattered stone was hurled skyward only to be pulverized mid-flight.

In the midst of this apocalyptic backdrop, a single miscalculation altered the balance.

Blade’s footing slipped on a slick plane of conjured frost, and in that fleeting instant Dan Heng’s control tightened. Ice surged upward, encasing Blade’s legs and climbing across half his torso and arms in crystalline restraint. The Saint struggled, but even his monstrous resilience required time to fracture the prison.

Dan Heng did not waste that time.

He circled, perception narrowing until the world slowed to a single, decisive moment. His three dragon tails coiled behind him, drawing in elemental force. The air itself seemed to hesitate.

Sunny sensed it.

Though locked in combat with Yanqing, his expanded awareness registered the impending convergence. Yanqing, too, felt the shift. For the briefest heartbeat, his attention flickered toward the greater clash.

That was enough.

Sunny moved.

He abandoned logic entirely, closing distance with explosive speed. Two of his left hands shot forward, seizing the sword in Yanqing’s right grip before the young master could redirect it. His tail snapped outward and coiled around Yanqing’s left wrist, constricting with crushing pressure.

Yanqing’s remaining blades swerved inward defensively, but Sunny had already committed, the Extraordinary Rock releasing a distorted voice, filled with exhilaration.

”Try not to die!”

He drew back his two remaining right arms, Essence flooding through his manifested form in a steady, controlled surge. He allowed it to saturate himself entirely, his fists becoming the focal points of a balanced circulation rather than a compressed detonation.

At that same instant, Dan Heng descended.

The dragon’s three tails lashed forward in perfect synchronization, elemental energy spiraling along their length. For a sliver of time, Sunny and Dan Heng moved as if guided by the same rhythm.

Their attacks landed simultaneously.

Dan Heng’s tails struck Blade’s frozen form with catastrophic force. Ice and flesh shattered together in an explosion of white radiance. Essence rebounded violently, scattering in luminous fragments. The left side of Blade’s demon body disintegrated, his three faces contorting in a chorus of fury, pain, and something almost akin to relief as his transformation collapsed.

Flowers erupted from the ruined half of his form even before he struck the ground, red blossoms blooming through torn flesh as regeneration began.

Sunny’s fists connected with Yanqing’s torso in the same suspended moment.

The impact produced not white radiance but a spiraling eruption of black. Essence flashed outward in a tight vortex, the air imploding before bursting apart in a shockwave that carved a crater beneath their feet.

Yet as Sunny felt the collision reverberate through his arms, he registered resistance unlike any before.

It was as if he had punched steel.

Yanqing’s body absorbed the force with terrifying resilience. Blood sprayed from his lips, and his feet tore furrows through the shattered stone as he was driven backward, but he did not fall. His reinforced skin and internalized Essence held.

Sunny released him as the tail uncoiled, watching with grudging admiration.

Any other Master would have been annihilated.

Yanqing staggered, one hand braced against the ground, the steel flower in his eye socket glinting with renewed focus. His breathing was ragged, yet his gaze burned brighter than before.

Sunny flexed his fingers, analyzing the aftermath.

It was something unpredictable — if it wasn’t for his unique sense for the cadence of battle, he wouldn’t have made the commitment for that attack. It couldn’t be forced... a roll of the die that wasn’t to his favor.

He attempted to recreate the sensation in memory, but it slipped through his grasp. The odds of triggering it deliberately still felt infinitesimal, even though his current state increased the probability slightly.

How had Kafka achieved such consistency?

As if summoned by the thought, her voice cut through the battlefield.

”All of you, listen to me — stop.”

The command carried subtle pressure. Not overwhelming, but pervasive. Sound itself seemed to bend around her words.

Motion ceased.

Sunny felt his limbs lock, not through physical restraint but through imposed stillness. The flow of Essence within him stilled as if momentarily pacified. Dan Heng’s dragon form twitched, then gradually regained partial movement faster than the others. Blade’s regenerating body shuddered, his Saint-grade resistance pushing against the mental constraint.

Kafka stepped forward with unhurried grace, heels clicking against fractured stone as if she walked across a polished stage rather than a ruined battlefield.

She tilted her head toward Blade.

”Satisfied, Bladie?”

Blade scoffed, though blood still stained his mouth. He did not answer verbally, but the tension in his shoulders loosened slightly.

Kafka’s gaze shifted to Sunny.

Her smile softened into something almost maternal, though the amusement never left her eyes.

”You can go.”

The dismissal was gentle, but it brooked no argument.

Sunny did not hesitate. The Shadowspawn Shell dissolved in a whisper of darkness, and he stepped backward into the shadows. The world inverted, flattening once more as he slipped between states, vanishing from sight.

Behind him, Dan Heng forced his voice past lingering resistance.

”What are you trying to do?”

Kafka’s lips curved.

”I’m just clearing the stage for the grand entrance. Can’t have you three misbehaving in front of the Luofu’s hotshot General.”

A warm chuckle answered her.

Jing Yuan stepped into view as if he had been present all along, golden eyes surveying the devastation with calm interest. He raised a hand and gave Yanqing a small wave.

The young master blinked in confusion, the steel flower retracting from his skull and folding inward until it became a metallic eye embedded in his socket. It rotated once, adjusting, before settling.

”We’ll get that fixed later. You did well. Facing a stronger opponent and holding your ground is no small feat.”

Yanqing’s expression flickered between pride and bewilderment as he glanced around at the abruptly frozen battlefield.

Jing Yuan’s gaze moved to Blade and Dan Heng.

”Many years have passed since the two of you departed the Xianzhou, and yet the circumstances of your return appear to be equally unhappy. If you still thought of me as a friend, you should have forewarned me.”

Blade straightened slowly, flowers continuing to bloom and wither across the ruined half of his body as regeneration progressed.

”My task was complete.”

Jing Yuan’s smile carried faint sadness.

”Then I thank you, and Kafka as well, for assisting in such a small matter. I will pretend I never saw anything this time.”

His eyes sharpened slightly.

”You are, after all, a criminal of the Xianzhou.”

Yanqing shot his General a questioning look, one gold eye and one steel. Jing Yuan shook his head gently.

”Now is not the time. Return to the Cloud Knights and inform them that the Stellaron Hunters are not to be pursued.”

Though hesitation flickered across Yanqing’s face, discipline prevailed. He stepped onto a conjured sword, allowing it to lift him into the air. The blade carried him away across the fractured sky like a surfboard skimming turbulent waves.

Kafka offered Jing Yuan a courteous nod before guiding Blade away, their figures receding into the distance.

Dan Heng’s transformation receded as well. Scales withdrew, horns remained, and his robes settled around him as he stood once more in humanoid form, though traces of draconic majesty lingered.

Jing Yuan sighed.

”It has been a long time, old friend.”

Dan Heng replied quietly:

”I am not that person.”

Jing Yuan hummed in acknowledgment.

”My apologies.”

When Dan Heng turned to leave, Jing Yuan’s voice halted him.

”You cannot leave just yet. Your companions are likely headed to Scalegorge Waterscape. Come. We will wait.”

They walked together toward a shrine overlooking an endless sea. At its center stood a perfect statue of Imbibitor Lunae — Dan Feng, the Drinker of the Moon — every detail rendered with reverent precision.

Beyond the stone effigy stretched waters that seemed calm on the surface, though indistinct silhouettes shifted in their depths.

Jing Yuan watched the sea with a melancholic gaze.

”Lunarescent Depths — a realm of singular beauty. Scalegorge Waterscape is the same as when I last laid eyes on it... and here we stand so different from one another. The flesh of long-life species may be immortal, but the constant of heaven and earth eludes them.”

Dan Heng sighed.

”You know the Vidyadhara hatching rebirth cycle, General. The waters of the ancient sea have cleansed Dan Feng of his past sin. The person that once stood here alongside you is no more.”

His eyes narrowed.

”I am Dan Heng. Whether Dan Feng was hero or villain has nothing to do with me. I bore his punishment, accepted my eternal banishment without complaint... but do not let his shadow cloud your estimation of me, General.”

Jing Yuan sighed.

”Raising old nets only darkens the water — an exercise in unhappiness. Perhaps it is your visage, the horns on your head, or the unmistakable air of the high elder that makes the separation nigh impossible for me.”

Dan Heng frowned.

”...I already told you—”

”You did... but to what effect? If words alone were enough to change the heart, this world would be without quarrel. If you wish to rid me of the illusion of Dan Feng, you must do something for me. Before I can let Dan Feng die and revoke your banishment edict, I need him to do me one final favor. I can guarantee you that when it is done, you will no longer walk in anyone’s shadow aboard the Luofu.”

Dan Heng hesitated for a few moments.

”I may not be capable of the things that Dan Feng was capable of.”

Jing Yuan shook his head.

”You must do it, or my promise will count for naught. If you wish to blame someone, blame your previous incarnation. Had he not committed that terrible sin — had the power of dragon transmutation been passed on intact — I would have no need to compel you.”

Jing Yuan crouched, scooping up a handful of water. It flowed between his fingers, returning to the vast sea.

”It is as I said: Here we stand so different from one another. Dan Feng is no more — now there is only Dan Heng. But I... I am the general of the Luofu. There are things that I wish I did not have to do, and yet I must.”

He chuckled.

”Besides, it is only a Supreme Titan that we are going to deal with. How hard could it be?”

Dan Heng paled.

***

Far from the tranquil waters of Scalegorge, beneath a sky that had long since forgotten the violence of Saints, Sunny stood unmoving under a massive cauldron, spewing smoke as he was drenched in the metallic scent of fresh blood. Hail Sorrow hung loosely in his hand, its black blade stained red from tip to guard. His Transcendent armor was soaked through, dark fabric clinging to him where arterial spray had painted it in uneven streaks. Before him lay the crumpled body of a woman whose eyes remained wide in death, their terror frozen in the final moment before his strike severed her fate.

His expression was empty.

Not conflicted. Not enraged.

Empty.

A thin, mocking laugh scraped against his ears, sharp and intrusive, reverberating far too clearly for something that possessed no lungs. A small green orb of ghostly light hovered above the corpse, its glow pulsing as if shaking with mirth, its voice lifting with theatrical delight.

”How swift of you, boy! Immediately getting rid of the threat before your eyes before it could act... without knowing that this woman was just a mere puppet!”

Sunny did not respond. Logic forced itself to the forefront of his thoughts despite the storm raging beneath it. The woman had been controlled. There had been no hesitation in her movements, no will behind her strike. He had eliminated a threat. Nothing more.

He stepped forward and swung Hail Sorrow in a clean, merciless arc.

The blade passed through the green orb without resistance.

The laughter intensified.

Understanding settled quickly. Physical attacks were meaningless. He shifted his grip and prepared to drive Hail Sorrow downward, intending to pierce the creature’s shadow with a soul-infused strike.

There was no shadow.

The orb floated in midair without anchor, without silhouette.

Sunny stilled.

The ghost purred, amusement dripping off every syllable.

”I see the problem. Don’t feel inadequate, boy! Men much greater than you have tried and failed to kill my kind. Whether you are a Seed of Destruction or not, you cannot harm me if you have no way to utilize it.”

It drifted closer, light dimming and brightening in slow pulses.

”Maybe I should show you... by taking your body for myself.”

March’s distant shout cut through the air just as the orb vanished in a streak of green. It crossed the distance faster than thought, faster than any Saint he had seen, and plunged directly into his chest.

Sunny’s body convulsed.

His nerves ignited as if molten iron had been poured through them. Something foreign clawed through his mind, prying open memories, probing along the contours of his soul with invasive curiosity. His vision fractured into shards of green light.

A voice echoed within him, vast and exultant.

”Rejoice, Lost From Light! Your body, your soul, your past, your present, and your future will serve as fuel for I, a Lord Ravager of Nanook the Destruction... Phantylia!”