Shadow Slave

For the next several days, Sunny did nothing but sleep, rest, and practice weaving. His two new wooden fingers were able to channel essence, which showed just how incredible Noctis was at his craft. However, they could not touch the ethereal strings. It seemed that only Sunny’s own flesh and bone were capable of that.

He was already accustomed to manipulating the shadow strings without those fingers, though, so the task had not grown much harder. There was also the long needle that shone with faint golden radiance to help him along. In those several days, Sunny made a bit of progress in his attempts to copy the simplest of enchantments.

…He also successfully destroyed several more Memories, which really stung his newly repaired hearts.

‘Ah, curses…’

Sunny stared at the rain of disappearing sparks that had been an enchanted buckler just a few moments ago and sighed. Another failure, another lost Memory. He was going through his collection of them way too fast… at that point, he was starting to wonder if there was a better use for it.

Saint’s shadow fragment counter was still at [59/200], and now, he had another Shadow to feed. Nightmare also demanded his fair share of resources to reach the next Rank, and his appetite was even steeper. Currently, the dark courser was at [1/300], and that single fragment came from a Memory Sunny had fed him to check if the horse also consumed them.

The only silver lining was that Nightmare was still of the Awakened Rank, and as such, gained more sustenance from weaker Memories. Getting him to three hundred was going to require about the same amount as what Saint needed to get to two.

…That was another reason why Sunny wanted to master at least the very foundation of weaving. If he could create even the simplest Memories himself, he would effectively gain the ability to convert soul shards into shadow fragments, as far as Saint and Nightmare were concerned. Probably.

He already knew enough to try, actually, and only lacked a few shards to experiment. However, the ability to copy and modify enchantments seemed even more alluring. Just imagining the utility of such a skill made him tremble with excitement.

But enough was enough! He could not endure the heartbreaking sorrow of losing another Memory today. With each of them he destroyed, Sunny could practically see potential credits disappearing from his theoretical bank account.

Shaking his head dejectedly, he returned the needle into the maw of the Covetous Coffer, dismissed the little box, and headed toward the door of his room.

It was time for some fresh air.

Finding his way to the familiar corner of the garden, Sunny noticed the motionless figure of the bandaged cripple and ignored him, then sat down on the grass some distance away. The two of them were perfectly content pretending that the other didn’t exist. After that first conversation, neither uttered a single word… which was a beautiful thing.

‘If only all humans were that reticent…’

The cripple never bothered him, and so, Sunny liked him a lot. They had a perfect understanding.

Closing his eyes, Sunny meditated for a while, but then grew bored. He still had a few hours to kill before dinner, and there was nothing to do. Well, that was not a problem… really, there always was a mountain of things he had wanted, but never found time to address. For example, he was very curious to study the spellweave of the Shadow Lantern… it was a Divine Memory, after all.

But just the thought of staring at the inhuman complexity of weaves again made his mood grow foul, so Sunny decided to return to that task sometime later.

What else was there?

Come to think of it… he had not practiced archery for a long time now. His skill in that regard was still very far from satisfactory.

Sunny thought for a bit, then stood up and summoned Morgan’s Warbow. The beautiful black bow weaved itself from scarlet sparks, which were the same color as its grip and string, as well as the small brand in the shape of a straight sword piercing straight through an avil that was burned into its surface.

He turned slightly and glanced at the grey stone of one of the giant menhirs that loomed some distance away. Surely, the ancient stone pillar that had withstood a thousand years in perfect condition, and was going to withstand thousands more, would not be damaged if he used it for target practice…

Not that Sunny cared too much. Noctis would just have to produce a new menhir if he destroyed one… or several… the bastard owed him this much, at least!

With a short sigh, he raised the bow, placed his fingers on the string, and strained his muscles to pull it back.

Due to the [Unbending] enchantment of the fearsome warbow, Sunny needed all of his might, as well as the help of the shadows, just to draw the string… no mundane human would have ever been able do that, and even among the Awakened, only those with Aspects providing exceptional physical enhancement could hope to succeed.

But thanks to that, every arrow sent flying by the black bow went especially far, and hit with devastating strength. And speaking of arrows…

As Sunny was drawing the string, a shadow appeared on it, then grew heavy and solid, turning from a ghostly shade into a sharp arrow. The other enchantment of Morgan’s Warbow, [Soul Arrows], allowed it to attune to the soul of the wielder and create arrows that shared its affinity.

The arrow Sunny just created was utterly black, with dark fletching and a narrow head that seemed to be made out of a sharp piece of obsidian. This was a shadow arrow, which flew swiftly and didn’t produce any sound at all. It was also perfect for finding cracks in the enemy’s armor.

Actually, he could create a different kind of arrow, too, due to his high divine affinity. Those arrows were lustrous and seemed to be forged out of pale gold, their broadheads perfect for slicing flesh and causing terrible wounds. There was probably another quality to them, but Sunny had yet to figure it out.

…In any case, that didn’t matter right now.

Bringing the string to his ear with some effort, Sunny struggled to hold it in place, then closed one eye, took aim, and jerked his fingers away from the arrow. The string hit the inner side of Sunny’s forearm, and the black arrow shot forward with incredible speed.

Attracted by the sound, the cripple turned his head and stared at Sunny from beneath his dirty bandages.

A moment later, the arrow hit the giant menhir… completely off the mark. He had aimed at a tiny crack on the surface of the ancient stone, but had not managed to strike anywhere near it.

Looking down at his forearm, which now had a deep cut, Sunny clicked his tongue and let out a dissatisfied growl.

Then, he wrapped his arm with a piece of cloth, summoned a second arrow, and repeated the process, this time almost managing to miss the menhir completely.

‘Damnation!’

It seemed that his accuracy had only reduced in the past months. How had he even managed to grow worse?

“…You’re doing it all wrong.”

Sunny remained motionless for a few moments, then turned around at stared at the cripple without any amusement in his frightening black eyes. Perhaps he was hasty to commend the man for his quiet and reticent nature… who wanted to hear that hideously grating voice, anyway?

Producing the emerald amulet, Sunny thought with some irritation:

“Oh yeah? What, you are an archery expert now?”

The cripple remained silent for a while, then turned away.

“I used to be a captain in the Sun Legion. Before…”

He sighed, and then smiled a little:

“I led a hundred brave warriors into battle, for the glory of Lord Sevirax and the Ivory City.”

The cripple grew silent, and then added quietly:

“…Before.”

Sunny stared at the bandages that covered the man’s burned body, then glanced at his soul, which was illuminated by a radiant core of an Awakened. So this guy used to be an officer serving one of the Sun immortals?

He hesitated for a moment, then asked:

“How’d you end up this messed up, then? Where do all these burn scars come from? Did the Warmongers catch you?”

The cripple stared into the distance for some time, then slowly shook his head.

“…You have plenty of scars yourself, demon, some as terrible as mine. That wicked one around your neck… where did it come from?”

Sunny looked down at the crestfallen man, then grinned.

“What, that thing? Funny you should ask… you see, I did actually got captured by the Warmongers once. So, to escape, I tricked the biggest and meanest of them into cutting my head off. Then, I killed him, picked it up, and put it back on. True story.”

He grew silent for a while, and then added nonchalantly:

“…Oh, and I killed Solvane too! You know who that is, right?”

The cripple stared at him with wide eyes, shock, awe, and confusion mixing in them in equal measure. Sunny just wanted to mock the guy a little, but the poor fool seemed to have actually believed him. What an idiot…

Actually… something about the cripple’s eyes seemed strangely familiar, at least in that moment…

Sunny suddenly froze and stared at the bandages hiding the man’s disfigured face, his mouth turning dry.

A few moments passed in a strange silence.

And then, both of the spoke at the same time:

“…Kai?”

“…Sunny?!”

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