Chapter Text
There was a deadly battle taking place on the bones of a dead god, perhaps the most terrifying battle humanity would ever witness. The armies of two domains, trying to decimate each other a few minutes ago, had merged to survive the tide of monsters rushing at them from inside the hollow bones. The deadly rays coming from the sun above the corpse of the deity were blocked by a cloud of swords high above, which was slowly being undone and raining onto the bone plain as molten steel. Beneath it, the Lord of Shadows was being pushed back in a deadly lock of blades with the King of Swords.
Sunny had two options: either figure out how to become supreme before Anvil could kill him, or die. Although, as it turned out, the two choices were actually just one...
'I have to die.'
It was so straightforward, as if the solution had been right in front of him the entire time, and he was just unable to see it.
But now, with Anvil's cursed sword inches away from his neck, Sunny understood. He had to die, but he couldn't be killed—not by anyone else.
With this realization, Sunny stared at the King of Swords with cold fury and asked,
"Hey, King of Swords, do you wish to kill me?"
Beneath the shadows cast by the myriad of swords, Anvil looked at him with his lifeless eyes, as cold as the blade in his hand.
"I do. I will."
Sunny let out a sinister laugh.
The cursed blade nicked his neck.
Cursing in his mind, he briefly glanced at the dark Odachi in his hand, then at the deadly rays of Godgrave's Sun seeping through the barrier of swords high above; slowly but surely, they were penetrating the cloud of steel.
With his plan made, Sunny had no hesitation left. The map was drawn, and the path was open. He would become supreme and behead this pathetic excuse of a sovereign in a matter of minutes.
He spat at the King of Swords:
"Listen, you wretch... you can't kill me. You are not worthy enough to kill me."
With the last bits of his strength, he pushed Anvil's blade a few centimeters back and continued,
"A man worthy of killing me has not been born in this world yet."
On his knees, bleeding and in pain, Sunny looked up at Anvil and laughed again, this time much more sinister and murderous.
"And never will be. I am the Heir of Death, you fool. Did you really think you could kill Death?"
What could kill Death apart from Death itself?
As the rays of Godgrave descended upon them, forcing Anvil to freeze, Sunny raised his sword.
The black odachi in his hand rippled, turning into a dark stiletto — the harbinger of his death.
His hand had already started turning into ash when Sunny smiled terribly behind his terrifying mask, turned the stiletto, and stabbed it into his own heart.
***
Sunny had to die, but he couldn't afford to be killed.
The one to take his life had to be none other than himself.
'Easier said than done.'
He was a master at surviving, after all. He had a soul so vast and potent, it would put every other awakened, including the sovereigns, to shame. His body was akin to a stronghold, enduring and difficult to breach. Both his body and soul healed very swiftly, too. Even if his heart had been stabbed, he would probably survive just by forcing his blood to move on its own.
That was why he couldn't use just any blade and why he had used Serpent, his odachi.
The blade that embodied Death.
As the dark stiletto pierced his heart, a cold feeling spread throughout his very being. His eyes widened in shock. No matter who it had come from, Death was cold and terrifying — the realization of what he had done... even more so.
It was painful, but he didn't care enough to feel it.
"I..."
He could almost see it. He was entering the Gates of Shadow, where no light was present and the land was like a somber desert of obsidian, without a way back. His body stopped answering to him, his soul was collapsing, and he was losing vision. There was no going back now; he was dying.
This was the ultimate end, and it terrified Sunny.
Death was also swift and merciful.
The feeling of being burnt—he didn't even feel it. All he had seen was his arms turning into ash, one of them still holding stubbornly onto Anvil's sword.
"Ah..."
A breath—his last—escaped from his lips, and he grew forever silent.
The Lord of Shadows swayed on his knees and fell. But his body never reached the ground, turning into a cloud of ash instead, which was blown by the wind.
The last thing to burn away was the hand that had persisted on Anvil's cursed blade, clinging to it until the very last moment.
When it was over, the only traces of the Lord of Shadows were his fearsome mask, which fell to the ground and lay there, staring at the King of Swords with its dark and empty eyes.
...and his shadow.
***
There was a dark, peaceful lake, bathed in the darkness of seven black suns. Above the lake of shadows stood a magnificent temple made of black marble, filled with emptiness.
A legion of shadows surrounded the towering temple, staring at it with their empty eyes in silence.
Waiting for something... or someone.
Then, a cold wind washed over the lake, and the still surface rippled.
A bolt of lightning, as dark as the suns above, struck the temple. It slithered into the tiles of its roof and disappeared inside the great structure.
In the impenetrable darkness of the great hall, a new figure revealed itself. A shadow.
A gorgeous young man, reminiscent of a beautiful sculpture made of black marble. His inky figure looked like a well of shadows even inside the dark temple.
His eyes were closed, not a single feature of his body moving.
The cold winds were still blowing outside, moving the once-peaceful lake under the raging flames of seven dark suns. But the young man was as still as the shadows surrounding the hall.
Until his eyelids suddenly trembled.
When the shadow opened his eyes, the realm shook with a mighty quake; it was as if an invisible force had burst from the young man, permeating the entire realm. The great lake grew even more restless, and the suns exploded with a dark radiance, their flames growing ever more vigorous.
Something was happening to the great lake and the fiery balls of black fire above it—to the realm itself.
As if it was changing... evolving into something unfathomable.
The young man seemingly broke free of the invisible chains holding him in place, moving slowly and coming alive. He looked around in quiet, gaining awareness, then inhaled deeply.
Next, he walked across the great hall and exited through the gates.
The darkness grew ever more profound. The flames of the seven suns raged with tenebrous fury, as if trying to burn the lightless sky itself.
Massive waves rose from the dark lake, covering the realm in a devastating storm. They crashed into each other, into the great temple, and into the legion of shadows surrounding its structure.
But the legion of shadows was as unmoving as ever, disregardful of the storm trying to swallow the realm, only moving after witnessing their sovereign staring at them from atop the steps of black marble.
Those with humanoid forms kneeled, and those with bestial forms lowered themselves to the ground.
The waves continued to rise and rise...
Until a sudden burst of blinding light invaded the realm, swallowing it in its entirety.
***
Sunny's soul sea was a miniature version of the Shadow Realm, so it was lightless and somber.
The seven suns looming above the great lake didn't give any illumination; they burned with darkness. In fact, their flames served to deepen the shadows. The lake and the sky were just as inky.
So why the hell was he seeing light right now?!
Wasn't he supposed to be dead?
'No, I'm sure of it.'
He had stabbed himself with Serpent, the embodied blade of death, in his own heart and died. The absolute law of death dictated that he be dead, and he would defy it to reach supremacy.
By killing himself, he had sent his soul to his own soul sea instead of the Shadow Realm. So, instead of wandering the obsidian desert as a mindless husk while being slowly ground into pure soul essence and joining the storms raging in the skies of the Shadow Realm, he could will himself back into life and reach supremacy.
That's what was supposed to happen, anyway...
In its place, he suddenly felt himself being picked up. When he opened his eyes, the shadows surrounding him grew deeper and more profound. Then, he realized one tiny bit of detail that he wasn't very fond of.
No, he was frightened, actually.
'This... this is the body of a baby... what kind of sick joke is this?!"
He was in the body of a newborn.
Was fate playing tricks on him?
Was it taking revenge for his escape?
This wasn't right. This wasn't right at all.
Had he somehow landed in a Nightmare? Had killing himself somehow reconnected him to the Spell and sent him into the 4th Nightmare in the body of a goddamn infant?
No, but all this really didn't make any sense!
'Damnation!'
Sunny spewed curses at fate, the dead gods, and himself, all in his mind.
Of course, he couldn't talk in this body.
With one last-ditch effort, he focused and dove into his soul sea.
There, he was met with a familiar sight, which helped calm his senses down.
There was a great, dark lake so vast its end couldn't be seen. A great temple made of black marble stood in the middle of it, towering over the water, full of emptiness. The temple was surrounded by a legion of silent shadows, their figures ever unmoving.
Above, a single lightless sun bathed the realm in darkness.
There was something wrong.
The count of suns above had been reduced from seven to one, and its dark radiance was a poor imitation of what it had once been. The Dark Temple felt hostile, as if it was not content with its lord.
Sunny could feel it; his soul was being suppressed by something. His once-transcendent soul was robbed of its power, cut down to something akin to a being of the awakened rank.
Had he regressed in rank? Was he back at zero?
No, that couldn't be right. Despite not being able to feel the strength, Sunny could tell that his power wasn't outright gone. It was more like... sealed. He had no idea why there was only a single sun instead of seven, but he knew the implications that came with it. He had lost six of his cores and returned to the beast class.
Sunny was furious.
He had prepared for years; he had reconnected with his friends and finally gotten into a relationship with Nephis. Together, they had done a thorough scheme, aiming to bring down the tyrants that were chaining humanity down, and they had almost succeeded, too.
But right when it was almost over, something had gone wrong. Instead of becoming supreme and beheading the King of Swords' despicable head, he had somehow found himself in the body of a newborn with six of his cores missing and his power extinguished.
And with all of his dear memories gone... again! He had spent precious soul shards and time to create and modify them; wasn't this too cruel?
'What a joke.'
Sunny would have laughed if he could.
But of course, there wasn't much he could do in this damn body, and he wasn't even able to use shadow incarnation due to losing his power. He was stuck, and it probably wasn't going to change soon.
Frustrated, Sunny peered into his only core left.
***
Hah...
Haaa...
Boots crunched the snow beneath, leaving their marks for the pursuers to follow. The wearer did not look back once to check, too busy running — often hopping — between the thick roots of the birch trees around that covered the entirety of one's vision with their white trunks. The heavens above must've been feeling silly today, because the snow was picking up. The clouds darkened, unleashing their wrath freely upon the forest and more.
The escapee cursed them for it and ran faster — tried to, at least. The roots everywhere made it hard to run without sprawling on the floor face-first, and this was without counting the horde of branches sprouting wide open, as if trying to catch anyone unfortunate enough to meet them in a jarring hug.
The only saving grace was that they didn't discriminate about who they caught with their arms, be it prey or predator.
Crack!
Whoosh...
Fwump!
But of course, they did discriminate between weak and strong.
Somewhere behind the runner, a branch was cut down and flung into the snow. The abnormally thick and mighty arms of birch trees were a travesty to a renowned mercenary such as the Bloodhound.
He was feared by many, with his blade that was never devoid of blood and his fangs that were constantly starving for flesh to bite into, eager to rip apart its prey and drain them of their life essence. Not one person was chased down by him and lived to tell the tale.
And right now, he was on her tail.
She had to run faster, even if it meant having to get her legs amputated later; those legs couldn't afford to rest this week. So she put all of her focus into it — running, without thinking about anything else. For her life and the soul she had brought into this world together with her love. Oh, how proud he would be if he had seen those onyx eyes, just like his.
Of course, that was not possible anymore. He was dead, killed by the same scummy piece of shit that was coming to take her life and her baby.
She ran... and ran... even when her right foot twisted and her ankle got sprained, she kept running, up until—
Thud
Her foot caught a particularly exposed root, and she lost her balance. The momentum from running and gravity worked hand in hand to bring her down, almost as if laughing in her face as she plummeted into the snow with a sharp gasp. Snow exploded around her as she fell into the snow like a meteor, the only thing on her mind being to hide her baby in her arms and tuck him into her stomach, saving his frail body from the brunt of it.
Her body screamed in pain, but it didn't matter.
Her bones ached and burned, whining at her in sharp cracks as she tried to put them to hard work for the hundredth time in a day, the same as any other day in that week. Uncovering one arm from around her son, she put her palm — full of bruises and fresh scratches — on the snow and propped herself up to her knees, ignoring the burning sensation that enveloped her hand.
But before she could get back on her feet and keep running, a shadow loomed over her head, its arms lifted up and holding something.
Thwack!
The shadow swung with its arms, branch in hand, slamming it into the back of her head. She couldn't even make a noise, too shocked for her reflexes to kick in. She crashed into the snow, once again meeting the cold face-to-face. The baby in her arms was flung out of her hold, falling into the same cold, white sheet a couple of meters away.
With the last of her breaths, she lifted her head from the snow, wincing at the feeling of blood flowing from the back of her skull, and took one last look at her son, her only family left, her only reminder of someone she had loved.
His face was turned towards the sky, staring at the branches and leaves that hid the clouds above. He couldn't see her, but she could clearly see his face. Sleeping peacefully even in the middle of all this, he looked content, deep in slumber. So she felt at peace as well.
Not once had their baby cried, even right after birth; not once had he made as much as a whine. If he was this strong, then what did she have to worry about?
The mother smiled, closing her eyes and accepting her fate.
Even when the Bloodhound's blade ripped her skin open and sank deep into her flesh, tearing her insides apart. Even when her heart was pierced by that cold, silvery steel, putting an end to the trusty blood pump's decades of work.
She smiled.
Long enough to see those eyes once again.
***
The chase was over. The Bloodhound had succeeded on yet another mission, no surprises. It was a shame, though, the fact that he was forbidden from drinking her blood, for whatever reason his employer had.
He stood over the corpse, staring at the blood flowing from her, pooling and swirling in the snow. It was calling out to him... "Get down, have a taste; who would even know?" It was just blood, the usual. The crimson liquid was his source of joy; it was his meaning. What would the Bloodhound be without blood on his lips and his blade...?
Suddenly, he remembered something.
His employer had warned him about the child of this woman. An infant, to be exact, barely a month old. He was supposed to bring the baby to them without a single scratch.
It seemed he wasn't going to drink any blood today. Damn that old fart and his hefty sum of marks! That woman was lucky he was a pragmatic man that prioritized monetary gains.
Putting his longsword back into the scabbard on his waist, the mercenary stepped over the corpse and consoled himself with the fact of having blood on his boots. It didn't take long before he saw the baby lying in the snow with his eyes closed.
What a damnable child, sleeping even while his mother was being murdered right in front of him.
A chuckle left his lips as he walked over to the infant, a sinister look forming in his eyes. The leaves were rustling, the snow rain was turning into a blizzard, yet the smell of iron was still strong. He kneeled next to the poor, little soul, mulling over what he should do with it.
Deliver it to his employer and get his pay in full, or sate himself with its blood and be done...
Bah. Whatever. He could always find more people to kill.
Getting paid was more important right now, especially when his trusty blade had begun to dull, so he reached for the child, intending to take him away and get paid...
But right as he was about to grab him, the baby opened his eyes.
Two onyx orbs, as dark as the abyss, as deep as the oceans. It was almost as if the shadows surrounding the baby deepened tenfold when its eyelids were lifted, opening the gates of Shadow.
The air felt like ice around the merc, biting and digging into his skin as the wind rushed onto him, bringing snow with it. The birch trees were screaming with their leaves, a few thinner trunks even swaying in the snow-covered soil, barely holding on with their thick roots.
The Bloodhound froze, his hand floating over the baby as his eyes stared into the abyss that was its eyes. He was hesitating; for the first time in his life, his blood had run cold.
There was a feeling growing inside him, something that made him forget all of his bloodthirsty thoughts and his passion for killing. It was cold, just like the air, and it was growing, just like the blizzard.
He kept staring at the abyss... and staring... too terrified to even notice the massive shadow that had appeared in front of him, looming from above. In that moment, he knew.
This was it — the finality — death. He was a dead man, staring right into the gates of Death.
And death came, in the form of a giant serpent, too massive to fit between the trees as it stared at him from above the sheet of birch trees, almost like it could see right through them. Onyx scales of the darkest tone, with eyes to match its inky existence. It stared at the Bloodhound without emotion but with the news of his death. Moments passed without a single sound except the rushing wind and the rustling leaves; the serpent didn't move.
Finally, the Bloodhound lowered his hand to his side and looked up towards the sky. He couldn't see the massive creature through the thick cover of leaves, but he knew and came to terms with it swiftly.
The serpent moved. It uncoiled itself, rising at least a hundred meters above the ground, and dove into the trees, swallowing both the Bloodhound and the baby as it crashed into the snow and sank into the soil in the blink of an eye.
***
The blizzard was still raging across the whole of Northern Kazdel, unleashing its fury upon the people and any living being who dared to be in its vicinity. The falling snow blinded everyone, even those with the sharpest of eyes.
Even when the massive form of a giant, inky snake shot out from beneath the soil and penetrated the sheet of snow, rising over the field like a spire made of shadows, not a single soul could witness its might.
It coiled upon itself before lowering its head onto the snow and opening its maw. Then, uncharacteristically gentle for what anyone would assume to be a monster straight out of fantasy books, it slightly buried its face into the snow.
When it pulled away, there was a little baby covered in a dark robe lying on the snow. His onyx eyes, unbelievably daring and furious for a month-old body, were staring right into the two dark pits of Serpent's own.
A moment passed, and suddenly, the scaly monster trembled.
It twisted and malformed, its body of shadows slowly sizing down into a humanoid shape. In the blink of an eye, it had transformed from a terrible beast into a beautiful young woman — the Priestess of War, Solvane. Her flowing hair and skin were perfectly black; her once-bright eyes were now the same as Serpent's, dark and peaceful, stripped of life, yet also full of intelligence.
The Priestess of War... or rather, the Shadow of Solvane, walked over to its master and picked him up.
Then, in the blink of an eye, it vanished, leaving only the trampled snow as a trace, soon to be erased by the ever-raging blizzard.