The halls echoed as several people walked through them.
The King of Swords walked at the front, with the others following him.
"King," Nephis called in her cold, apathetic expression.
Everyone stopped, and the man looked at her.
"If I may, I'll need a moment with Master Sunless," she said.
Anvil turned to her.
"We have a young guest accompanying him. I just want to make sure no form of distress is caused to the child," she said.
Whether Anvil cared or not was anyone's guess, but he gave a curt nod and faced forward.
"Meet me in the waiting room once you are done," he said.
Nephis and Sunless watched him move.
As they ducked into another corridor, Anvil did not stop his march. Yet once they turned a corner, Anvil looked at the blade.
The blade was splendid in his eyes.
Even more so due to one detail.
The red hue.
His eyes narrowed.
The smiths had stiffened when it was questioned.
It was due to the nature of the ore.
That one piece of red, about the size of a marble, was an ore that did not serve any purpose in terms of quality.
It did seem somewhat eye-catching in terms of aesthetics, but that was not what stood out.
It was the fact that this specific ore was added to the pile as the one small piece that could have made the entire quality collapse if handled wrong, and served no useful purpose if handled right either.
A wrecking ball, if one will.
And yet the Master had used it instead of keeping it aside, showing his skill.
Whatever the girls assumed did not matter.
Sunless had proved to be more than capable indeed.
Nephis walked with Sunless through an empty corridor as they made sure no one was listening.
She turned around, worry flashing in her eyes.
First—
"Master Sunless, are you okay?" she asked as she looked him up and down.
Sunless blinked but smiled.
"Of course my lady, I'm completly in health," he answered.
She still looked at him before gazing into the main hall, then looked at Sunless again.
"What about your enchanting skills?" she asked. "How did you enchant the sword? I thought you make thread from your fingers but..."
She did not know.
Sunless blinked before smiling knowingly.
"Oh well I am a master of my craft you know?" he said with a teasing smile.
Nephis was not convinced and actually looked at Sunless worriedly.
"But still," she asked.
Sunless looked around, scanning the area before looking back.
With a sigh, he began.
"I etched with the threads however I was limited to the complexity of what I could perform, but I controlled all of them with mental command and essece control," he said.
Nephis looked on.
"But the last time I felt essece in your hands, I cant see them but I was able to tell you were using it."
Sunless smiled more softly.
"Except this time I was on the forge," he explained.
"I ratioed out the density of the threads and matched with the essence that was flying in the air with every strike of my hammer and hide it there."
He winked with a smile.
Nephis's eyes widened.
"It's all about the skill my lady," he said.
Nephis stared at him, her eyes blinking.
Admiration and respect settled in more deeply as she realized Sunless had managed to accomplish something very complex.
A small smile came to her lips.
"Is that so? That's... amazing master sunless..." she said.
Internally, however, she was beyond relieved that Sunless's skill wasn't exposed.
It could have been very problematic if Sunless's skills were exposed in front of Anvil.
At the easiest, he could have been forced to join Valor and keep on working endlessly.
Nephis couldn't even begin to imagine that scenario.
What would Master Sunless do?
What would little Orphne do?
What would she do?
However, she shook her head.
Now was not the time.
They had to see the last part of the meeting, though.
And she was determined to make sure Sunless and Orphne would remain unharmed and peaceful.
Nephis glanced at Sunless.
And she would remain with them.
Sunless, Orphne, and Nephis.
...
What she herself didn't know was one more fact.
Even Anvil did not know the scope of the skill presented.
Nephis did not know about the complexity of handling the red ore, and Anvil did not know the complexity of Weaving and hiding it on top of that, both tasks handled by Sunless.
Simultaneously.
Hence, neither realized the threshold of Sunless's mental capacity.
Maybe not absurd.
Maybe not inhuman.
But still.
Incredible.
...
...
The Cursed of Truth sat after invoking the name of the Seer of Paths.
"Do not meddle with the laws of existence, Bane of Areil."
The voice came without warning.
Both the Seer of Paths and the Cursed of Truth turned.
Shadows gathered beside another throne.
From them, the Lord of Shadows emerged.
He settled into his seat without haste, one leg crossing over the other as his presence became distant once more.
Aloof.
Unconcerned.
The Cursed of Truth looked at him.
"Heir of Shadow... what are you...?"
"Do not play games with words."
The Lord of Shadows rested one arm against the throne.
"You spoke as though Destiny stood beside Fate."
A pause.
"It does not."
The air seemed to sharpen around him.
Neither of the other two interrupted.
"Destiny exists beneath Fate."
His gaze moved briefly toward the Seer of Paths.
"Nether held authority over Destiny."
Then—
"Not Fate."
...
The Seer of Paths remained silent.
"No one controls Fate."
The words were simple.
Firm.
The Cursed of Truth watched him carefully.
It was not often that the Lord of Shadows spoke with such vigor.
Most of the time, whatever knowledge he offered came wrapped in words too vague to fully understand.
But there were moments when he did not suggested.
He corrected.
And when he did.
He corrected records of existence itself.
"The fool that was the youngest of the Daemons could influence the paths before another."
The Lord of Shadows' voice remained calm.
"He could close one path and leave another open. He could force another being toward a road they would not otherwise have chosen."
A pause.
"He could offer one road."
His fingers rested lightly against the armrest.
"Or a thousand."
The Seer of Paths' gaze shifted toward him.
"Yet that did not make him master of Fate."
The Lord of Shadows' eyes sharpened.
"Nether could choose which path another walked."
His voice lowered.
"But the path itself still existed beneath Fate."
...
The Cursed of Truth said nothing.
The Lord of Shadows continued.
"A path or a million. It changes nothing."
His gaze moved between the two.
"All of them lead toward what Fate has already willed to be."
...
Silence settled between the thrones.
The Lord of Shadows leaned back.
Whatever edge had entered his presence disappeared almost as quickly as it had come.
Once again, he seemed almost indifferent.
The Seer of Paths remained quiet.
The Cursed of Truth did the same.
Neither questioned him further.
For a time, silence remained between the thrones.
The Seer of Paths eventually looked toward the Lord of Shadows.
"Ahh... one cannot dismiss the great Lord of Shadows."
"One would be foolish to," the Cursed of Truth answered.
The Lord of Shadows paid neither of them any attention.
"Godgrave was left to him for a reason."
"Indeed."
A short silence followed.
"The Wills of these Sovereigns are mighty," the Seer of Paths said.
"They are." The Cursed of Truth paused.
"But hardly the greatest Will that has ever descended upon the Lord of Shadows."
...
Neither elaborated.
There was little need.
The Seer of Paths merely looked away.
"I would not even be surprised if some of the Divine blood these children carry was spilled by the Lord of Shadows himself."
The Cursed of Truth glanced toward him.
"Considering the things he accomplished before even attaining the blood of Shadow..."
A pause.
"...neither would I."
The Lord of Shadows remained still.
The Seer of Paths looked at him once more.
"After all..."
His voice remained flat.
"...there are not many Transcendents who can claim to have slit the throat of a Great God."
...
The Lord of Shadows finally turned his gaze toward them.
"You talk a lot."
Neither continued.
"Perhaps that should—"
A calm voice came as all but the Lord of Shadows turned their heads.
The Heir of Weaver was awake.
"Are you well now?" the Seer of Paths asked.
"I am," he said before looking at the Lord of Shadows.
"Oh great Lord of Shadows, to what do we owe the—"
"Spare me your words, Heir of Weaver. Death is finite, so is my lack of desire," the Lord of Shadows said.
The Heir of Weaver paused, not taking offense. He sighed faintly.
"Very well then," he said.
Well...
No one could blame the Lord of Shadows.
His aloofness was almost fitting for one who bore the legacy of Shadow.
Such was the nature of Shadows. While all Great Gods were a part of the cycle that is life, the God of Shadows was Death.
No matter how much life persisted, Death would claim them inevitably.
The Lord of Shadows sat uninterrupted when one spoke.
"Oh great Lord of Shadows," the Seer of Paths called.
The Lord of Shadows did not look. However, his head tilted just slightly.
"Tell me, oh great Lord of Shad—"
"Spare me your bullshit. Get to the point," the Lord of Shadows cut him off.
"..."
"..."
"..."
The Lord of Shadows glanced at them.
"..."
The Seer of Paths had a question.
Unanswered.
And, as always, the Lord of Shadows was the most difficult to converse with.
By margins, at that.
"What mystery lies in your cradle, Lord of Shadows?"
"...What mystery do you wish to know?" he asked.
"Why, the war, of course."
The Lord of Shadows looked up at him.
"The war of Sovereigns does not concern you. They are to die at my blade."
"But can I not even know how close the war has come?" he asked.
The Lord of Shadows considered the words before dismissing them.
The Seer of Paths remained silent before sighing.
The Lord of Shadows would not impart knowledge he did not want to.
However...
"Lord of Shadows..." the Heir of Weaver began.
The Lord of Shadows glanced at him before sighing in acknowledgment.
The Cursed of Truth sighed lightly.
"Of course you acknowledge him..." he said.
The Lord of Shadows did not care to even glance at him.
"Regardless of the great Seer of Paths' reasons, I believe everyone wishes to know something about the war."
The Lord of Shadows considered the request.
"The war will progress faster than either side intended," he said.
"The more I push on both sides' convoys, the more they realize they cannot forge a stronghold unless they send frontline forces to make camp or deal with me."
"So the war will begin prematurely?" the Cursed of Truth asked.
The Lord of Shadows only nodded.
His head turned to the Heir of Weaver.
"What of the fool on the moon..." he asked.
"...His Domain is weakening," the Heir of Weaver answered.
"However, it's becoming harder to track the extent as the numbers dwindle. I suspect he is trying to spread his Domain, which was already largely situated in the House of Night, to the mundanes of the Waking World," he said.
The Cursed of Truth spoke, seemingly interested.
"The Sovereign on the moon, does he not possess a Domain that spreads through names?" he asked.
"It does," the Lord of Shadows answered.
"...The third Sovereign's Domain is a particularly unique one," the Heir of Weaver said.
"If someone hears his name, it stays rooted in their mind. They may not consciously recall it, but it will slip through every once in a while, more so when the Sovereign himself focuses on that connection."
"Connection?" the Seer of Paths asked.
"You all just love wasting time, don't you?" the Lord of Shadows said with mock annoyance.
"The Sovereign's name stays rooted in those who hear it. It stays rooted like a psychological virus that the ones who know it spread unconsciously," he explained.
"And over time, they are assimilated into his Domain, empowering him," the Cursed of Truth finished.
"Quite a strong Domain. No Citadel, no object, not even a conscious desire to be part of his Domain."
He looked at the Heir of Weaver.
"However," the Seer of Paths said.
"I suppose he must be quite enraged at you, oh great Keeper of Fate. After all, you are separating people from his Domain already, are you not?" he asked.
The Heir of Weaver did not answer immediately.
"The Sovereign may feel what he wishes. I do not care," he said. "What matters is that he remains weakened until the other two are dealt with."
"Would it not be wiser to pit the two to kill the third?" the Cursed of Truth asked.
"It would not..." he said.
The Seer of Paths waited as a moment of silence passed.
"Indeed," the Cursed of Truth said.
Strange.
That was quite the delayed answer.
"But to erase his name from an infected mind..." the Cursed of Truth asked. "I suppose only you could have done such things."
The Heir of Weaver remained quiet.
"We are fortunate to have such power on our side..." he said.
Another moment of quiet passed as the Seer of Paths looked at the three.
'Strange...'
His eyes narrowed behind his mask.
'These three are talking, or...'
His suspicion grew.
The Lord of Shadows scoffed lightly.
"This power did not come out of nowhere, you fool..." he said.
"The sheer atrocities committed to gain it were enough for that coward to throw a Divine curse," he said as he glanced at the Cursed of Truth.
Another moment passed.
The Heir of Weaver raised his head softly and looked at the Lord of Shadows.
"To call Ariel, the Daemon of Dread, a fool... only you could have such..."
He did not finish.
A few more moments passed before the Cursed of Truth let out an exhale of amusement.
"Indeed."
The Seer of Paths' suspicion grew.
But before he could reach a conclusion—
"Wait... what?"
He mumbled, his voice sounding as if his suspicion disappeared.
Eventually...
"...Lord of Shadows," the Seer of Paths called. "You truly think you can kill the Sovereigns with your blade, Lord of Shadows?" he asked.
The Lord of Shadows looked at him.
"Is there a doubt?" he asked. "Sooner or later, I will kill them."
"As a Transcendent?" the Cursed of Truth asked.
The Lord of Shadows looked at him.
The Heir of Weaver only stared down at the marble below.
"The times are different now... Lord of Shadows," he said.
"In the Golden Age... as well as the Doom War, you were of a different kind..." he recalled.
The Seer of Paths and Cursed of Truth looked at the Heir of Weaver.
The Lord of Shadows did not.
The Heir of Weaver continued.
"In those times, Sovereigns and Sacraed were not many, but even the ones that existed feared your wrath." He paused.
"The Great Gods themselves who sought your demise praised your blade..."
He looked at the Lord of Shadows.
"However, you carved nearly all your strength against the Great Gods and Daemons. A mere shadow of your former self..." he said.
A moment passed.
"...A shadow?"
The Lord of Shadows spoke.
His head rose to meet the Heir of Weaver.
"Then that is quite fitting, isn't it, Heir of Weaver? For me to be a shadow, even if of my former self," he said.
His voice sharpened as the shadows trembled behind him.
"As for killing the Sovereigns..." he began.
"I may not have the strength to match them yet..."
A pause.
"However..."
Shadows swirled around him as he disappeared from the land, his deadly voice resounding.
"I have other methods."
No one spoke for a long moment.
Until—
"I will take my leave," the Cursed of Truth said.
"So will we..." the Heir of Weaver said.
A cocoon of thousands of golden threads formed around him as he disappeared in a spark of ethereal gold.
The Cursed of Truth had disappeared as well.
Yet the Seer of Paths remained on his throne.
He looked at where the Heir of Weaver had been sitting.
"So will we..."
He remembered the words as his shoulders stiffened for a moment.
"Ahh..."
He let out in annoyed realization.
"It was four of them..."
He paused.
"He was here too..."
...
Master Sunless was standing in the room.
He had been given a Memory to clean himself off from the sweat of working in the forge.
He would still shower when he got back...
However, right now, Anvil and Sunless were looking at each other as the feast he had brought for everyone rested on the table.
Orphany had joined them at one point.
Currently, she was staring at the armor-clad Sovereign with wonder in her eyes.
"Ahh..."
She let out in awe of his size.
Anvil tilted his head faintly to look at the girl.
To her credit, her eyes only sparkled more.
She whispered to herself in wonder.
But everyone was Awakened, so they heard.
"A big teddy bear."
...
The guards in the back let their jaws drop.
Morgan's eyes widened at the words.
Even the Fire Keepers looked horrified.
Nephis, standing on the side, turned to look at Anvil. She did not feel any shift in his emotions.
Nothing happened.
So far, Anvil wasn't bothered.
Sunless turned to look at the girl standing close as his smile strained.
"Birdy—"
"Papa, it's a big teddy bear," she said with a faint smile.
Someone coughed in the back as Morgan's lips parted.
Sunless scooped her up.
"There now, Birdy—"
"Can he be our friend?" she said, pointing at Anvil with her small finger.
"That's the King, Birdy," Sunless quickly explained, hoping the girl would stop.
Orphany, on the other hand, gasped in delight.
"The king of our dorm is a teddy bear?!"
"Pff—"
Someone stepped out of the doorframe as some shoulders shook.
Whether they were laughing or choking on air was anyone's guess.
But Morgan's expression was horrified as Nephis's shoulders slumped.
Sunless actually glanced between Anvil and Orphany before covering her mouth softly.
"Birdy, it's Domain, not dorm, and he's not a—"
He paused as he glanced at Anvil.
"...A teddy bear," he squeezed out.
Orphany's eyes fell as her mouth was covered.
And much like any child trying to escape the cover, she bit his finger lightly, making Sunless retreat.
She smiled as Sunless didn't mind even slightly.
"He's the King?" she asked.
"Yes," Sunless agreed as some Fire Keepers shook their heads in the back.
Orphany looked at the King.
"The big, super strong King?" she asked in wonder.
"Yes, that King," Sunless corrected eagerly.
She looked at Anvil.
"Did you like the sword, Mr. King?" she asked in a tone that melted some hearts.
Not Anvil's, though.
Naturally.
Some people stiffened while some turned their attention to the blade in Morgan's hand.
Nephis's eyes lingered on the red hue.
Anvil regarded the girl for a moment.
Then nodded lightly.
Orphany smiled and wiggled out of Sunless's arms before landing on the ground.
"Orphany, don't be rude," Sunless said, back to his usual composure.
Orphany stood in front of Anvil and smiled.
She placed a hand on her chest, picked up the hem of her skirt with the other, and bowed lightly.
She mixed up the two greetings of holding the skirt with both hands or placing one behind her back.
Some people covered their mouths and bit back smiles at the adorable girl.
Well...
She tried?
Orphany looked at Anvil and took a few steps closer in childish wonder.
Some people leaned in closer as Sunless moved lightly.
However—
As Orphany covered three more steps, she noticed the difference in height as the Sovereign's shadow fell over her, his intimidating, apathetic gaze turned to her.
Orphany stared as her smile dropped.
She took tiny steps back as her lips pressed together and her brows furrowed.
She reconsidered her four-year-old life choices and shook her head vigorously.
Her head turned to Nephis, and she walked her way.
Anvil, however, kept his gaze on her.
Unaware, Orphany stopped midway as her eyes wandered to Morgan.
She blinked.
Then looked between Nephis and Morgan.
Then her face lit up as she scurried over to Morgan.
Morgan blinked at the appearance as her shoulders went rigid.
She was usually dismissive of children.
Not rude, but dismissive. She rarely had a reason to interact with them.
However, this one belonged to Master Sunless, who had impressed her father greatly and made her this fine blade in her hands.
And the Master was handsome too.
While the thought did not matter as much, who would want to offend a handsome and capable man?
Or offend him while their King was clearly interested in the man.
So when Orphany appeared, Morgan dismissed the blade and looked down at her.
Orphany beamed.
Nephis felt a bad premonition.
"Hello, Pretty Madam!" Orphany bowed. "My name is Orphany. I'm four years old."
She introduced herself.
Morgan blinked.
"Pretty Madam?"
Nephis did not.
'Pretty... Madam...?'
She thought.
That was too close to her own title.
Equal, even.
Nephis's eyes went to Sunless, then Orphany.
First, Sunless put the red hue on her blade, and now Orphany gave her that nickname.
Nephis did not like that.
Not one bit.
Not a single one.
Her lips faintly curved downward as she looked at Morgan awkwardly reach a hand forward and pat Orphany's head.
The girl smiled before scurrying over to Nephis.
Nephis tucked Orphany close to her leg securely.
Sunless watched them with a smile as Anvil finally looked at him.
"Sunless."
He began as some shoulders went stiff at the tone.
What would the offer be?
Join Valor?
Become one of the smiths?
A higher rank in the line of workers?
Perhaps even join the family?
Make his family a new Legacy Clan, even?
Regardless, Anvil was not one to waste time.
They would have the answer soon.
Yet whatever their expectations were, they would not be met.
No—
Because the offer was substantially higher than what anyone imagined.
"Become my apprentice."
For a moment, no one spoke.
Until—
Morgan stared.
The guards' eyes widened.
And Nephis froze for a moment.
Orphany looked between the adults before going behind Nephis's legs.
Sunless, too, looked surprised.
He took a deep breath and composed himself.
His smile returned.
"I am honored, my King, truly," he said.
Anvil's eyes shadowed.
"However, I must refuse," he said.
Morgan's head snapped toward him.
The guards were even more shocked now.
Nephis turned to stare at him with worry in her eyes.
Anvil's gaze sharpened.
"Why?"
Sunless looked up.
"My King, while the offer is tempting, I will not be able to pursue it with as much passion as you wish," he paused.
"I have many things to take care of. A café, a home, and a peaceful life."
He paused again.
"While I am willing to discard all that should a reason come, I also have a daughter, who is both my reason and my joy," he said.
"I simply won't be able to perform at my best if my life changes so drastically. I perform and craft at my best when my life moves in a way I desire," he said.
Orphany peeked out as some expressions calmed.
Nephis's eyes softened before glancing at Anvil again.
Sunless's smile softened into a normal, composed expression.
"Moreover," he said, his voice firm.
"I am but a mere Ascended, and you are one of two great Sovereigns. I can't possibly be your apprentice. The gap in ability and status is simply too vast," he said.
Morgan sighed lightly.
That was at least a better argument than simply saying, 'I don't want to.'
Anvil studied Sunless for a moment.
"Then."
Everyone sharpened.
"I will assemble the best Ascended Legacies to accompany you in the Third Nightmare. Become Saint Sunless."
...
Morgan stared.
The Fire Keepers did.
So did Nephis.
Sunless's shoulders had gone rigid for a moment.
The offer was more than substantial.
For an Ascended to be given what was essentially the closest thing to a safe way through the Nightmare...
And yet—
"I must refuse."
Sunless's voice came.
More firm than before.
His hands remained behind his back, yet his eyes remained firm in the face of the Sovereign.
Anvil regarded him once more.
"Are you certain?"
"I am."
There was no hesitation in his eyes.
"No matter the preparation, a Nightmare is meant to be fair. No matter what forces are sent, the difficulty will be adjusted," he paused.
"I am not going to make an uncertain gamble with my life on a whim when I have so much to protect."
He glanced at Orphany.
And Nephis.
He looked back at Anvil.
"I must remain here in this realm to protect what I must," he said firmly.
"And I need to forge a sword like no other. One worthy of its wielder," he said.
His eyes did not give any attention.
But Nephis's pupils widened faintly.
She knew.
She knew what sword he was talking about forging.
Hers.
"I cannot leave the Waking World when the war is upon the Domains. Not when my created weapons can be used by warriors and potentially save lives of at least one Domain, even if only one," he said.
Anvil's gaze remained only on Sunless.
For a moment, no one spoke as the tension thickened.
Until—
"Very well then," he said.
His expression relaxed into its passive one.
Sunless's expression softened as well as he smiled faintly again.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Until Anvil took a step back as he began to leave.
Some people relaxed as the confrontation was finally over.
"Ahh, my King," Sunless called.
!!!
Some people looked at him as if saying—
'Oh, come on!'
Yet that was not enough as all faces fell or jaws dropped.
For Anvil, the King of Swords, saw Sunless pull out a box.
Nephis's eyes widened with something close to horror.
Morgan's jaw loosened as well.
Orphany smiled brightly.
Anvil—
'...'
For Sunless was standing there with a cake in his hands.
"Do you like sweets, my King?" he asked politely.
...
'What the hell is he doing?!'
Nephis thought.
Sunless only smiled as Anvil looked at him and the cake.
Anvil turned, dismissing it.
Yet when he turned halfway—
"Everyone says my cooking is as good as my Memories," Sunless said with a smile.
Anvil stopped and looked at him.
Then at the cake.
Then at Sunless.
For some reason, Sunless's expression felt as if he was saying—
'Come on, try it. Don't be shy.'
Anvil stared at Sunless more.
"..."
"..."
A moment passed.
Then another.
Until—
Something moved.
Someone's breathing hitched.
Nephis wondered if she'd have to move.
She would if it came down to it.
However—
A metal spoon formed and took a bite out of the cake before flying to Anvil's mouth.
Not one more thing moved.
Except Anvil's mouth.
Before—
Some people stiffened even more, if that was possible.
The spoon took another bite and flew to Anvil's mouth.
Then Anvil gave a faint nod before turning away.
If that was not enough—
Sunless blinked as a metal plate formed under his hand.
Sunless blinked again before resting the cake on it.
The cake flew after Anvil into some unseen hand as a third bite was taken.
Everyone's jaws dropped but Orphany's and Sunless's.
Even Nephis's jaw parted somewhat.
Orphany beamed as Sunless smiled more.
Anvil walked to the door as his jaw moved faintly.
Some people looked at Sunless as if he was a Great God or a Daemon.
But before anyone could say anything—
Anvil stopped at the doorway.
"Sunless."
He called firmly as all humor collapsed.
A craftsman's direction was inevitably reflected through their craft. If Sunless truly wished not to become his apprentice, then even if forced to, he would never reach a higher level.
Regardless—
He looked over his shoulder.
"Think of the offer. Talent like yours appears once in a generation, if not several lifetimes."
The King departed with that.
No one spoke for some time.
Soon, Morgan looked between everyone before walking toward the door herself.
"What just happened?" a guard muttered before leaving as well.
"Don't know, man."
"Bye-bye, Pretty Madam!" Orphany jumped as she waved.
Morgan looked back before glancing at Sunless, then waved at Orphany with an awkward, faint smile and left.
For a moment, no one spoke as the Fire Keepers went after them to make sure of a clean send-off.
Then—
"Ahhh!"
A relieved sigh escaped Sunless as Orphany reached his side.
...
Nephis looked at the door, then at Sunless.
A small, satisfied smile came to her lips.
No matter how ridiculously that man handled the situation, she had noted how Sunless's posture reacted.
He was rigid, shoulders stiff and fingers curling every now and then, as his eyes had a section of awkwardness in them.
That was a natural reaction as someone of lower rank in front of Anvil.
However, she also noted the lack of intimidation and nonexistent fear she felt from her Transcendent abilities.
Sunless wasn't showing off or simply calm. He understood the stakes and still remained composed and fearless in the face of something that could threaten him and Orphany.
And when she felt his eyes on her for that one glance...
She felt herself included in that too.
But that brought another question.
An uncertainty.
Why had Sunless treated Morgan so strangely?
Well, she had not seen Sunless interact with women, so she couldn't tell, but obviously he didn't act that way with everyone.
Then again, his actions were normal, formal even, so the hand-held bow could be dismissed.
Still...
The red streak still made her feel strangely about the interaction.
And Orphany called Morgan Pretty Madam too...
Her lips curled into the faintest of frowns again as she stared aimlessly.
Which was why she missed the look Sunless gave her.
And when he bent down and whispered something in Orphany's ear, the girl listened intently as she nodded.
Then her brows furrowed, and she looked at Nephis and smiled brightly.
It was when Orphany rushed and reached her that she looked in time to see Orphany hug her waist.
Nephis smiled, her hands reaching Orphany's head.
"Orphany?" she called.
However, Orphany looked up and giggled knowingly.
Nephis's brows furrowed in confusion.
"Pretty Aunty was pretty."
Nephis's smile fell.
But it came back as she blinked, the word registering.
Aunty.
Not Madam nor Miss.
Aunty.
What she had refused to call Nephis once because she was waiting for more.
That thought did not make Nephis feel awkward.
Not even a little now.
And so the smile came back.
For Orphany smiled at her brightly.
"But Pretty Miss is the prettiest!"
Nephis's smile brightened.
Then—
She felt it.
The flow of emotion Sunless only directed toward her.
'Right.'
He didn't have that sort of emotion in any of his interactions with Morgan.
However—
Her mind froze.
For once again, Master Sunless was looking at her with those gentle eyes.
His head tilted as he spoke.
"My lady," he called.
Nephis didn't have to answer.
His smile softened sweetly.
"Didn't I tell you I never lie?" he asked.
He did.
Many times.
It was a catchphrase of sorts for him for some reason.
Nephis didn't care at that moment.
He looked at her knowingly.
"This you should remember. I told you," he stepped forward once.
Not even close.
But somehow, the distance disappeared in her mind.
"Of all the women I've ever seen, met or known, you are the only one I've ever admired," He said.
Badam.
Nephis was not so sure what to say as Orphany stepped back.
Then Sunless did too.
Yet the sweet air of the new atmosphere stayed.
Sunless turned to the window and walked to it.
Nephis's gaze followed with the small smile she didn't even realize she had.
Sunless looked out.
"Ahh," he sighed. "I'm sorry if I made you feel something unpleasant," he said.
Nephis blinked, but her smile remained.
"The red hue I put on the blade," he said.
And her smile weakened.
But stayed.
"It was mostly to show my skill. The red ore was sabotage from the others, but I handled it enough to impress the King on purpose," he said.
Nephis blinked.
Sabotage.
A flash of annoyance crept in.
It did not stay because Sunless turned to her again.
Sunless's faint, teasing smile grew and made her fingers curl.
"It's a shame," he began as his gaze settled on her.
"The idea of a red streak was not supposed to be on his blade, actually," he explained as he fully turned.
Relief settled in her as the intentions with Morgan vanished from her mind.
"I wanted to add something defining to your blade as well, but your eyes and hair are the same color, so I couldn't add something in the style I am set on," he said.
Nephis's face warmed as she stared at Sunless.
"I have been thinking since then. Perhaps... a flame embedded at the base of the blade? Or a wing design for the hilt after your Saint Transformation?" he said.
Nephis saw the glint of planning in his eyes.
She could tell he was most likely planning on making some enchantments related to them.
That's right.
Only she knew Sunless well enough to read his thoughts.
Maybe not all.
Not yet.
But she could more than anyone else.
It was a few moments later when he stepped close to Nephis.
A step closer than he ever did.
Sunless raised his right hand as it hovered close to her waist.
Nephis's breath caught.
He was waiting for permission.
Nephis stepped in.
Sunless's hand rested on her waist as her toes curled and her face warmed.
The flow of emotions from him came stronger.
He was delighted.
Sunless spoke with a smile as he leaned close.
The blush on his face was evident and matched Nephis's.
"I'll say this now and as many times as you need me to say it."
Nephis looked at Sunless's eyes.
She didn't need the ability to see the sincerity and certainty.
"You are, were, and will always be the most beautiful woman in all of the realms and all of time to me..." he said.
Badam. Badam.
Sunless's hand slipped off her waist.
"And I'll say it endlessly if I have to..."
He stepped beside her, hiding his face from her.
Nephis didn't care for the bright smile on her face or the red blush as she turned.
Only for Sunless to turn around as he stepped back, his cheeks flushed as well.
"You asked me what I'll do if you I weren't another problem, right?" he said.
With a finger to his lips and an eye closed.
"I suppose I'll try if you let me."
With that, he spun.
"Birdy, food."
'Running away...'
Nephis thought with her smile as her heart thundered.
And joy remained.
"Food!" Orphany exclaimed, not catching anything the adults said to each other as she tugged on Nephis's hand.
"Come on, Prettiest Miss!" she said.
And Nephis got a promotion as well.
What a day this became.
...
In the depths of Godgrave, situated in a temple shrouded in darkness, stood a throne.
The Lord of Shadows sat on his throne. His eyes remained on the darkness before him when the sound of a horse came, and he looked up to see one of his Shadows.
"Nightmare," he said as the steed appeared close.
The Lord of Shadows stood up and walked over to it, caressing his head lightly.
"How did you do?" he asked as he looked into the shadows that stretched as far as a forty-kilometer radius.
Reaching out with his senses, he could tell.
"Another Cursed, huh? And a Devil at that. Good job," he said as the horse made a sound.
A part of his other methods...
Over a hundred Great abominations and even some Cursed were sleeping in the depths of his shadows.
While he couldn't control them, the steed, which was a Transcendent Terror, had put them into a sleep with a mind hex.
The Lord of Shadows didn't have to do anything. Just let the Sovereigns come to meet him and go away while they faced all of this...
While not the most effective plan, it was one of the few that might actually work.
Not that he was really relying on it.
While he had some contingency plans, there was a surefire way to kill the Sovereigns.
However, it was very unlikely.
After all...
"The Sacred Titan under the greatest of abominations' service is quite busy."
He muttered with a sigh.
He doubted anything would allow it to move. Not that it was part of the plan.
A small smile appeared behind the mask.
"There is nothing more fun than killing a demigod thinking they can't be defeated."
It was only for a moment, but he couldn't help but remember the past.
'How long ago was it?'
He thought as he closed his eyes.
...
The heat was blazing as the sun beat down on the sands relentlessly.
Close to the end of the desert walked a man.
He was wearing black garb and a demon mask.
It was the Lord of Shadows.
Walking in the Nightmare Desert.
Normally, Great abominations of the Great and Cursed Ranks would reappear and fight each other endlessly after being banished from Death by the Shadow God.
Yet that cursed land would only fully manifest after the Doom War.
So the Lord of Shadows did not have to worry.
For this was the end of the Golden Age.
The army of abominations had not yet appeared here.
"Damn that bastard Shadow God and damn his realm."
The Lord of Shadows scoffed as he walked.
He was on his way back from the Realm of Shadow, where he had gone to counsel the Shadow God.
Yet the aloof god and Lord of Shadows' conversation had ended when the god did not help him.
The Lord of Shadows had little patience for such situations.
Well...
"It won't be long before that bastard comes after me," he muttered.
His visit to the Shadow Realm and what he did there marked another act of Divine desecration.
The Lord of Shadows, however, did not care about the consequences, but rather how to handle the aftermath.
It was then that—
!!!
The Lord of Shadows snapped his head back as he looked at the open sky above the blazing desert.
Something was coming.
Space tore open in the skies above as pressure descended upon the realms.
Across the desert, great winds rose as lightning cracked in violent bursts.
An ethereal figure slowly appeared from the clouds, made completely of Divine white energy.
It was a woman.
Or rather, chose to appear as a woman.
Her white eyes oozed energy and power.
Despite the lack of expression, it was obvious that the being had appeared enraged.
She was beautiful.
Divinely so.
As she should be.
Yet when she spoke—
Her voice overlapped with fury.
"There you are, little Shadow... you little wretch."
The Lord of Shadows looked up as he threw his black odachi over his shoulder.
"Ahh, if it isn't little War," he said mockingly.
"What happened? Was my sight so mesmerizing that you had to appear again?" He chuckled deeply.
"If you want to court me, come some other time. I'm busy, and you're quite the eyesore. Maybe change your face to be a little bearable, huh?"
The Great God of War stared at the Lord of Shadows in fury as a angry flush came to her face.
"In all my existence since the dawn of time, not one mortal has dared offend me like you have, you little—"
"Whatever."
The Lord of Shadows cut her off as he waved his arm.
The War Goddess did not wait as essence manifested in her hands and she threw it.
Something manifested in the Lord of Shadows' hands as well.
However—
The weapon was destroyed.
The Lord of Shadows did not relax as the Goddess of War raged and looked at the sky.
The Nightmare Desert was shrouded in darkness as another being emerged.
Their body covered in shadowy mist, the being did not show their face or physique.
"Shadow," the War Goddess hissed in annoyance.
"War..." the Shadow God spoke.
"What are you doing? Your little Shadow has offended me. Are you really going to start another conflict to protect one Transcendent mortal?" she asked.
The Shadow God looked at her.
"Protect? No," he said.
Both Great Gods looked below at the Transcendent.
They were Great Gods.
And yet they did not feel an ounce of fear in the Shadow looking up at them.
"That one is one of mine, and has offended me as well," the Shadow God said as he looked down.
The War Goddess looked back.
"Whether the Shadow dies or does not will be my decision. And should you wish to oppose my will..."
The shadows teemed as the War Goddess' eyes narrowed.
White light morphed into several weapons as she moved.
The Great God of Shadows and the Great God of War moved to begin a battle that would make the realms tremble.
When—
"Hey!"
The Lord of Shadows called.
The two Great Gods looked at the Shadow.
Shadows swirled around the man as he looked up at them.
"Mark my words, you filthy gods," the Lord of Shadows said as a cocoon of darkness covered him.
"You two will die at my hands."
That day in the Golden Age...
The two Great Gods battled until some smaller realms tore apart, and billions of civilians were destroyed across several mortal realms that could not withstand the might of the two beings.
All the while, the Lord of Shadows took Shadow's distraction as a chance and invaded the Shadow Realm to steal a great Divine relic and community and act of divine desecration again.
One that the Shadow God would chase him for.
...
'Ahh... good days.'
The Lord of Shadows thought on his throne in Godgrave.