Shadow Slave

‘Bone Weave…’

Sunny let the sound of it echo in his mind, overwhelmed by a feeling of savage joy. He didn’t know what that Attribute gifted him, yet, but was certain that it would be something special. The Blood Weave had saved his life so many times, after all…

And after his encounter with the Mordant Mimic, he learned that having strong bones was as important as having tenacious blood.

Shifting his gaze away from the runes, he stared at one of his hands, then made a fist. This was the arm that had been shattered by the vile creature, and then slowly healed while he was falling into the Sky Below. Even though Sunny had already been able to use it for the past few days, it used to feel weak, awkward, and slightly damaged.

But now, it was as good as new.

…More than that, actually. It was better than ever before.

All of his bones felt much more durable and resilient. Stronger. His joints seemed to be slightly more agile, too. His teeth felt as though they could crush stones and cut through metal.

The strangest change, however, happened to his fingers. It wasn’t very apparent, though. On the surface, it simply felt as though they had grown subtly more sensitive, the tactile feeling of touching things becoming deeper and richer. However, Sunny suspected that the true change was more profound. He just didn’t know what it was, exactly.

Blood Weave had altered his eyes in a very fundamental way, so Bone Weave had to have a lot of promise.

He ran his fingers across the soft surface of the Puppeteer’s Shroud, vividly feeling the silken fabric slide against his skin.

‘…Neat.’

Then, Sunny stretched his limbs, sensing their newfound agility. He was already weirdly limber due to practicing Shadow Dance, which demanded the utmost level of pliability from the practitioner’s body. Now, however, it was even further enhanced.

Satisfied, Sunny turned back to the runes and read:

Attribute: [Bone Weave].

Attribute Description: [You have inherited a part of Weaver’s forbidden lineage. Your bones have been altered and imbued with steadfast temperance…]

He tilted his head, stunned by the somewhat expected, but still profoundly fascinating piece of information he just received.

‘Weaver’s legacy!’

So the severed arm had actually belonged to the mysterious Demon of Fate. It was Weaver who had snuck into their sibling’s tower while bearing a terrible wound, sliced off their rotting limb, and then fashioned a new one from the parts scavenged from the broken porcelain dolls before sewing it onto their body with diamond strings.

It was Weaver’s footprints that Sunny had seen in the basement of the great obsidian pagoda.

He trembled.

Even though Sunny had seen many incredible things and lived through many unlikely events, both wondrous and terrifying, he suddenly felt awe. It was as though… as though he was suddenly in the presence of divinity.

Demon of Fate had been to this dark island, had walked the same halls that Sunny walked, and breathed the same air. The sharp needle infused with remnant traces of their blood was currently inside his storage Memory, as well as the diamond string they had used to sew a new arm to their body. Unlike the miraculous black mask, the needle was not a Memory, either.

It was the actual thing.

But most of all… Sunny had swallowed a phalanx bone of the divine being in question.

‘Crazy! This is crazy!’

He blinked a few times, then suddenly thought:

‘Was, uh… was this how Neph felt when she first met Kai, I wonder?’

What a random and ridiculous thought…

Then, a slight frown appeared on his face.

…Why would Weaver secretly come to their younger brother’s abandoned workshop? What was the harrowing rot that had been spreading from their wound, and what manner of creature could have wounded them so terribly?

What could even damage a deity?

Sunny had so many questions…

Luckily, the description of the Bone Weave was not over. Several strings of runes still remained.

He concentrated and read:

[…When children of the -unknown- rebelled against the gods, Weaver was the only one to refuse the call of war. Despised and hunted by both sides, they disappeared. No one knew where Weaver went and what they did… until it was too late.]

Sunny shivered.

A few things became more clear from this short description. Firstly, it cemented his suspicion that, at some point in time, the seven daemons — children of the mysterious -unknown-, who were also strangely described as having created themselves — had waged war against the gods. Or, rather, six of them… since Weaver apparently decided to not join either side in this conflict.

Secondly, Weaver’s reluctance to participate in the war had landed them in big trouble with both the gods and the other daemons… unsurprisingly. One side would have seen the Demon of Fate as one of the enemies simply by virtue of them being a daemon, while the other would have seen them as a traitor… for that same reason.

That could potentially explain how Weaver ended up being ghastly wounded, and why they had to sneak into the Obsidian Tower in secret.

These two pieces of information were extremely fascinating, but it was the third one that gave Sunny pause.

‘No one knew what Weaver did… until it was too late.’

That sounded so ominous. That made it seem as though Weaver alone had turned out to be more terrible than both the six daemons and the six gods combined, in the end.

What exactly had Weaver done?

Sunny really wanted to know the answer to this question, and not only out of idle curiosity.

He was carrying two parts of Weaver’s lineage inside of him now, after all.

…The lineage that was described as being forbidden.

Was the reason for that connected to what Weaver had done?

Just as always, the answers Sunny had received brought him a swarm of new questions.

‘Curses!’

With a sigh, he dismissed the runes and stood up. There was no sense in pondering about that now, not without finding more information, both about the daemons and the gods.

After all that had transpired, he was incredibly tired and hungry.

…But mostly hungry.

With a resentful sigh, Sunny gave Saint a sign to follow and headed back toward the first level.