Somewhere in the Nightmare Desert, a lone shadow slithered across the dunes.
Sunny wandered without aim—just toward the center—his shadow sense stretched thin across the scorched expanse, scouring for a twisted tree that lived more in legend than memory. Nephis had once claimed to find Eurys and Azarax tied to it.
Eventually, he felt it.
A familiar presence—sharp, bound in silence.
Only one.
Odd.
The desert heat didn't reach the roots of the tree, where shade pooled like ink. Sunny shadow stepped into it, emerging silently before the skeletal warrior. For a moment, he said nothing—just stared at the timeless form bound to bark and fate.
The skeletal figure, though fleshless, stirred.
"Wh—"
Then froze. Not in fear. No, in bemusement.
After a long pause, Eurys rasped, "What are you?"
Sunny took a slow step forward, the wind teasing the edges of his coat. He met the ancient warrior's hollow gaze.
"I am Sunless," he said, voice like cold iron. "Sovereign Sunless."
He let the words hang in the air—long enough for them to stain it.
"And I have come to offer you a deal."
Eurys clicked his bare jaw, dry bone against bone. "I didn't ask your name. I asked what you are…" he tilted his skull, shadows dancing in his sockets. "You carry the presence of Shadow… yet you are not It."
Sunny, uninterested in theatrics, ran a hand across the bark. Two markings. Two prisoners. Only one remained.
"I am the rightful heir of death. Shadows kneel. I am their god. Does that suffice?"
Eurys didn't flinch, but Sunny felt his confusion.
"Not an Avatar… nor a Divine Shadow…"
The jaw clicked again, slower this time.
"You—" Eurys hissed, voice rising in something close to a mix of reverence and malevolence, "A Divine Heir."
Sunny blinked. He'd expected questions, even resistance. Not that.
Sunny blinked. That was new. He'd spoken with Eurys before—never had the old husk reacted like this.
He nodded.
"So. Shall we discuss terms?"
Silence. Then, soft and brittle: "Go ahead."
A smile crept up Sunny's face like a blade unsheathing.
"First," he said, "we set the stage." He took a moment, weighing each word. "I can grant you what Shadow denied. A true death."
Eurys listened. Rigid, unmoving. But Sunny had him.
"Second, every word I speak is the truth and nothing but the truth. I may omit, but I will not lie."
He inhaled, shadow flickering across his eyes.
"The gods are dead. The daemons? Lost to time. But something else—older—has stirred. Beyond the Forgotten God, beyond the daemons, beyond even the void-born."
He paused, tilting his head. "Before we go further… do you know anything of it?"
The skeleton hung in place, then, low and brittle:
"I know nothing of this being. But if I were you… I wouldn't speak of it aloud. The ancient ones often listen, and they don't take kindly to such theatrics."
Sunny ignored the warning. Of course he did.
"I think this same being sent me back through time," he said casually, "and gifted me what I needed to become Shadow's Heir."
Now that got Eurys's attention.
The old warrior leaned forward, as if gravity itself tugged at his curiosity.
"Tell me, boy. What kind of being toys with time for a mere human?"
Sunny conjured a rough shadow-chair from the tree's shade and sat.
'Not as comfy as my usual one… but it'll do.'
"I don't know much," he admitted. "But Weaver's spell—the little trick—called it —unknown, the First— something." He frowned. "The runes were partially unintelligible."
He paused again, then spoke softly, the desert wind catching his words like prayer:
"I know this: it witnessed the Doom War, yet did not fight. It favors fate. It took Shadow's ichor, forged a relic from it. It rewrote reality. And for some reason I fail to understand, it sent me back in time."
Eurys didn't move, but his presence… shifted. Subtle. Like an ancient mechanism turning, finally clicking into place.
Sunny noticed.
"You've realized something," he said, amusement ghosting his voice.
Eurys's reply was low, grim, almost reverent.
"It seems… the same being that sent you through time has also freed the Conqueror."
Sunny's smile faltered. Just a flicker.
'No. That's… not good.'
"By 'Conqueror,' you mean…?"
He knew. Of course he knew. But he wanted to hear it.
"Azarax. King of Kings. Plague of Steel. Conqueror of a hundred thrones. Banished like me… though not for slaying a single god's avatar. No—he drowned the world in blood."
Sunny's tone dropped to something cold and sovereign.
"Where is he now?"
Eurys's bones creaked as he shifted ever so slightly.
"Deeper into the desert. Stronger than ever."
Sunny exhaled through his nose. A long, tired breath.
'Did I cause this? My regression… did it have a hand in this?'
His mind raced. Azarax had slaughtered his Supreme-ranked father while still a Saint. His aspect rank could very well be Divine…
And if —unknown— had a hand in it…
Not now. Later.
He'd need allies. Strong ones. And though it chafed him like rusted steel, even Anvil and Ki Song might have to be spared—so long as they bent the knee.
Enough musing.
He stood, dissolving the shadow-chair beneath him with a flick of his fingers.
Time for terms.
"You'll serve as my advisor," he said, voice iron. "Until I say otherwise… or until the Shadow Clan I intend to build rises vast enough to bury the sun. Then—I'll grant you the mercy of death."
Eurys tilted his skull, thoughtful.
"What would my responsibilities be?"
Sunny grinned, summoning Serpent, it slithered off his right arm, into the form of a black odachi.
He then willed it to subside the effects of its [Death Incarnate] attribute as much as possible.
'Can't have him dying before fulfilling his duties'
"Advising."
The tenebrific odachi arced cleanly through the air.
Through the top of Eurys's cervical vertebrae.
***
Back at the academy Sunny was inspecting his odachi in the armory room. Or at least that's what it looked like, in reality Sunny was considering how he should approach Nephis.
'I'll just tell her everything… or at least as much as I can.'
That was for the best, if there's one thing Sunny had realized after hours of observing oracles, it's that keeping the truth hidden does more bad than good.
Sunny's gaze turned upwards, the ceiling was high, with modern LED lights embedded into it illuminating the armory.
"Hello, Sir Sunless." A calm and familiar voice resounded from behind him along with the sound of footsteps.
Sunny turned around to see Nephis walking into the armory, wearing the standard issue combat uniform of the Academy. It was nothing special, but to Sunny, anything Nephis wore looked immaculate.
Even the black seaweed bralette that left most of her tor—
'Pure thoughts Sunny! Pure thoughts!'
"Hello, Lady Nephis. I assumed you are here to spar." His voice was calm, his thoughts? far from it.
Nephis simply nodded in agreement, which prompted Sunny to once again manifest a longsword for her from the shadows.
'After the fight, I'll tell her what I want to after the fight.'
Sunny himself prepared his stance with the odachi he had already manifested.
They took their positions again, no words needed this time.
Nephis moved first, sharp and composed. Her form had improved—cleaner footwork, tighter arcs, better flow between offense and defense.
Sunny noted it all with quiet approval.
She learned quickly. Of course she did.
He parried without effort, his movements loose, almost lazy. But every step, every angle, taught something. A feint punished here. A stance corrected there. He never made it obvious. Just enough pressure to push her forward, never break her.
Nephis adapted—adjusting mid-exchange, setting traps, hiding intent.
'Good,' he thought. 'But still—'
In an instant, the tide shifted.
Her lunge was perfect.
His dodge was effortless.
And before she could recover, the flat of his odachi was at her side—just barely touching the fabric of her uniform.
They froze.
Her eyes widened slightly, not in shock, but awareness.
"…Again?" she asked, a flicker of fire in her tone now.
Sunny smiled faintly.
"Sure."
They reset. Nephis exhaled slowly this time, more focused, more dangerous.
This time, she didn't attack immediately.
Cautious.
Smart.
Sunny stepped forward instead—measured, controlled. His blade moved in a subtle arc, not to strike, but to test her reaction.
She responded fast, deflecting the tip and countering with a sharp thrust.
Better.
But not enough.
He let the odachi glide along her blade, shifted his weight—and suddenly, her guard was open. Not by mistake. By inevitability.
His sword hovered above her shoulder before she even realized it.
Nephis blinked, then let out a quiet breath.
"…Again," she said, less a request and more a demand.
They fought for several more bouts after that. Each time, she lasted longer. Thought faster. Adapted sharper.
But Sunny was a storm in waiting. Unshaken. Absolute.
Eventually, they stopped.
Their blades lowered, breath calm again, sweat just beginning to form.
Nephis broke the silence first.
"You're holding back."
Sunny looked at her, expression unreadable.
"A little," he admitted.
She nodded.
Then—
"…You were going to say something. Last night."
A pause.
"Who are you?"
For a moment, he didn't answer.
Then came the smile. Faint. Almost solemn.
'This is it huh?'
The shadows deepened.
His voice, barely above a whisper—
"I am Sovereign Sunless of the Shadow Clan."