Shadow Slave

Eventually, Sunny returned to the altitude where the dark undersides of the floating islands could be seen. He tiredly approached one, sensed something moving in the deep shadows, and glided past without coming too close.

The next one didn't seem to harbor any horrors. He flew toward the rough stone surface and sunk his claws and talons into it, clinging to the bottom of the island like a bat. Strangely, Sunny did not need to exert any conscious effort to remain in that position, and simply lay upside down on the cold stones for a while, struggling against exhaustion.

He was in much worse shape than it had seemed before. Two months of ruthless battles in the Red Colosseum had taken a toll on his body, and the terrible wound in his chest was still there, sapping him of strength and vitality.

With the help of Blood Weave, the body of the four-armed demon managed to survive having one of its two hearts violently torn out. But that didn't mean that it was going to fully recover from that vicious injury… with only one heart left to pump blood through his veins, Sunny felt lethargic and weak. That weakness would probably never go away, not unless he somehow managed to find or grow a new heart.

He was tired to the bone, overwhelmed by pain, and numb. Terribly, utterly numb. After the harrowing intensity of the past two months and the crushing strain of their disastrous attempt to escape, Sunny finally reached safety, and found himself drained of all thoughts and emotions.

He couldn't muster enough energy to feel joy or relief, grief or sorrow… even anger or hatred.

Tired… he was just too tired.

The island under which Sunny hid was separated from the Red Colosseum by four or five heavenly chains, far to the south. He was still deep within the territory of the followers of War, but no one was going to discover him, not unless they had wings… and even then, finding the Child of Shadows in the cold embrace of darkness was not going to be easy.

However, no one was looking. After all, he was considered to be dead.

Sunny looked at the shattered breastplate of the Undying Chain, and then dismissed the damaged armor to give it a chance to repair itself. Then, he summoned the Mantle of Underworld and gasped when its onyx metal wrapped itself around his mangled chest.

The intricate black armor embraced his tortured body, soothing its aches. Sunny doubted that anyone from the real world would be able to spy on him here, in the depths of a Nightmare… but even if they could, he didn't care anymore. He just wanted to be safe and protected.

As soon as the fearsome Mantle hid his wounds, Sunny tiredly closed his eyes… and plunged into the nothingness of a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

Thirst… and pain.

That were the first things Sunny felt before slowly remembering who he was, what he was, and where he had found himself.

...He was in hell. Where else?

'I fell asleep…'

He opened his eyes and saw the rough surface of the bare stone in front of him. Sunny was still clinging to the underside of the island, his claws buried deep into it and holding him in place like iron pitons.

He felt… better, somewhat. His body was still a labyrinth of pain, but it was much milder than before. Judging by the state of his wounds, he had slept for many, many days.

No wonder he was so thirsty.

Sunny shifted slightly and freed one of his four hands, then summoned the Endless Spring and drank a few gulps of water. Then, he turned his head and stared into the darkness, indifferent to everything.

His body was healing, but his mind was still empty and numb, exhausted of its ability to feel anything. All that remained was cold rationality, but even that part of him was dull and apathetic, devoid of any interest and desire.

He just didn't care about anything, or anyone, right now. The mere thought of caring seemed exhausting.

After a while, Sunny sighed.

'...What should I do?'

Despite everything that had happened, his immediate goal remained simple and straightforward. He had to traverse the whole Kingdom of Hope and reach the Iron Hand island to regroup with the cohort. Once they were together… if the others were still alive… they would know what to do.

Sunny didn't feel particularly motivated to attempt the perilous journey, but he knew that he had to. It was a simple enough objective, at least… in his current state, he felt reluctant to think about anything arduous, obtuse, or complicated.

All he had to do was to move southeast for a while, and then turn north. Maybe his condition would improve by the time he reached the eastern edges of the Chained Isles.

The road, however, was not going to be easy.

Sunny was going to have to sneak through the vast territory of the Warmongers without being seen, reach the southernmost boundary of the region, and then retrace the path he had taken to welcome Effie and Kai almost all the way back to the Sanctuary of Noctis.

It was also unclear who ruled the eastern territories in this era, or if they were wild and overrun by Nightmare Creatures, like they would be in the future.

He grimaced, remained motionless for a while, and then summoned the Covetous Coffer.

Catching the frightened box before it plummeted into the Sky Below, Sunny freed one more hand and took a handful of synthpaste tubes out of the Coffer, then dismissed it. Consuming the tasteless sludge to replenish his strength, he summon the runes and finally took a proper look at them for the first time in months:

Name: Sunless.

True Name: Lost from Light.

Rank: Awakened.

Class: Demon.

Shadow Cores: [3/7].

Shadow Fragments: …

His pupils narrowed.

'...What?'

But there was no mistake. The runes read:

Shadow Fragments: [2223/3000].

Sunny stared at the number, then hung his head back and tried to chuckle, producing a disturbing bestial snarl instead. His throat pulsed with sharp pain, but he shrugged it off and bared his teeth in a dark, bitter grin.

When entering the Nightmare, Sunny had less than three hundred fragments collected… which meant that he had accumulated almost two thousand of them in the Red Colosseum.

In fact, in those two months, he had probably slaughtered more Nightmare Creatures… and humans… than in the previous two years, his whole life as a carrier of the Spell.

…Was this the price of glory?

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