Shadow Slave

1023 The Fall of Falcon Scott (41)

Sunny crawled onto the shore and lay on the cold stones of the pebble beach for a bit, breathing heavily. It was incredibly nice to lie on solid ground again, but at the same time, his body felt heavy and cumbersome. A part of it had to do with spending some time in the depths of the ocean, and a part of it was simply because he was still tired and low on essence.

‘Curse it…’

He had enough sense left, at least, to let one shadow slide off his body and take a look around to make sure that there were no enemies in his immediate vicinity.

There were none, at least not close by. There was only Naeve, who seemed to be doing a little bit better than Sunny. The Nightwalker took a few deep breaths, then slowly sat up.

“We… we actually made it. Gods, I really did not expect to live through this one.”

He glanced at Sunny, receiving a vague gesture of confirmation. Sunny shared the feeling.

Naeve grasped his shoulder for a moment, then asked with a hint of morbid curiosity in his voice:

“How did you manage to kill that horror, anyway? Such a devastating mental attack… even Uncle failed to resist it.”

Sunny remained motionless for a few seconds, pushed himself off the ground with a tired groan, and glanced at the scion of Night somberly.

Spitting out the Essence Pearl, he then grimaced and said:

“I guess it was just fate… that fiend was fated to die by my hand, and so, fate helped me kill it.”

Naeve smiled weakly, then looked away.

“Never took you for a fatalist.”

That was when a third figure rose from the water. Bloodwave walked onto the shore, his eyes glinting with shades of deep blue and indigo. Drops of water were rolling down his smooth ebony skin, contours of steel muscles clearly visible under it.

The Saint remained silent for a few moments, looking into the distance. Then, he sighed, and suddenly disappeared. A strong gale threw a scattering of pebbles into the air, making Sunny cover his face with his hand.

‘What… what is that speed?’

He lowered his hand and looked in the direction where Bloodwave had dashed. Slowly, his face grew still.

“No…”

Naeve’s voice sounded defeated.

The shore around them was empty. Here and there, a few dead Nightmare Creatures lay on the ground, their blood steaming in the cold. Snowflakes were dancing in the air as they fell from the empty sky. There were no brood beasts in sight, and the roar of the distant cannonade was much quieter than it had been when they left…

All good signs.

However, the illusion of peace was destroyed when one saw the port fortress that loomed some distance away.

A large section of its wall was torn asunder and collapsed, and most of the lights that had illuminated the battlements were now dark. There was movement in the breach, silhouettes who looked like people walking between the rubble with unsteady steps. Beyond that, Sunny could see nothing else.

Remembering the sight of the vast crowd of frightened refugees cowering in the courtyard, he felt his heart turn cold.

…The battle was over, at least. Otherwise, Bloodwave would have already been rampaging among the remaining abominations. The ships anchored near the fortress were intact, as well. Whatever damage had been done to the port did not reach them.

Sunny stood up with a stagger, then dismissed the Essence Pearl and the Nimble Catch. Black threads surrounded his body, soon turning into the grey fabric of the Puppeteer’s Shroud.

Glancing at the crestfallen Nightwalker, he said evenly:

“Let’s go.”

The two of them slowly made their way to the fortress.

As they approached, more details became visible.

The bodies of the thralls littered the ground, mangled and torn apart. There were much more of them here than there had been protecting the Terror — thousands of them, all slain despite their dreadful power. It seemed that the defenders of the fort had not surrendered even a single meter of the approach without making the abominations pay a steep price.

Sunny saw Nightmare Creatures of all kinds among the felled thralls, some of them large enough to make him shiver. There were human bodies among them, as well — the former residents of L049, who had finally found their final resting place thousands of kilometers away from the distant research base.

Perhaps they would have been glad to lay on solid ground again, as well, instead of floating endlessly in the lightless abyss of the ocean.

When Sunny and Naeve walked closer to the breached wall of the fortress, they saw the bodies of the First Army soldiers among the dead thralls, too. Mundane humans, Awakened… there were too many of them to count.

Sunny felt a bitter feeling grasp his heart.

…This was a part of his victory, as well.

He had been proud, gleeful, and elated after killing the hateful Corrupted Terror, happy to receive a powerful Memory.

However, his victory was made possible because most of the creature’s drowned guard had been drawn away by the defenders of the port. While Sunny was fighting the Sybil in the depths of the ocean, these men and women were dying here on the shore to give him a fighting chance.

That did not diminish his accomplishment… however, it did put it in perspective. Cruelly so.

Suddenly, Sunny remembered something Master Jet had told him once, years ago, while driving him to the gates of the Academy.

No one can survive in the Dream Realm alone.

‘The waking world… it’s no different from the Dream Realm these days, is it?’

Maybe it never had been.

Passing between the soldiers that were walking among the bodies, recovering the dead humans and hopelessly searching for wounded survivors, Sunny climbed the rubble to enter the breach and looked at the courtyard of the fortress that was revealed behind it.

The refugees… were alive, pressed against the opposite wall of the yard and pale with terror. There was a light barricade built to shield them from any potential enemy, with soldiers vigilantly standing guard behind it.

The battle seemed to have been the most fearsome just beyond the breach. An actual mountain of corpses was piled up where the defenders had made a desperate last stand, refusing to let the thralls reach the civilians.

Sunny descended into the courtyard and looked around forlornly.

He found Verne’s body soon. The enthralled Master was laying on his back, staring at the sky with empty, glassy eyes. His ribcage, shoulder, and skull were crushed by some devastating blunt weapon. He was finally, and mercifully, truly dead.

…Dale was laying nearby, too.

Sunny almost failed to recognize the Irregular captain without his bulky armor — the Memories, of course, had disappeared after the owner’s death — and because the body was terribly mangled. However, the insignia of an Ascended of the First Army could still be discerned on the bloodied sleeve of his bodysuit.

Gritting his teeth, Sunny took a few steps forward and kneeled near the mangled body.

He did not really know what to do. The wind was picking up, making him shiver.

Sunny remained silent for a while, and then said quietly: “You… rest well now, Master Dale. You did well.”

‘Your nightmare is over.’

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