Sunny stood inside his soul sea, arms crossed, watching the result of his latest expedition into the Shadow Realm.
This time, he hadn't brought Serpent or Slayer.
He didn't need them.
The ancient shadows that lived there were more than enough—feral, powerful, and just wild enough to make things interesting.
But even with their help, it had taken days to find anything of worth.
Just one.
A single defiant shadow.
A massive direwolf—obsidian-iridescent-black fur, glowing red eyes, and easily fifty meters tall. A Cursed Tyrant.
Now, it stood silently in the center of his soul sea.
Sunny summoned his runes, inspecting part of them.
Shadow Fragments: 53,607
He willed a hundred of them to flow from his core into the creature's own.
The wolf stirred.
Slowly.
Its ears twitched. Its head tilted. It breathed.
Then it shrank…
It shrank from 50 meters all the way down to about 3 meters.
'Huh, neat.'
It seemed like the wolf could control his size.
Still, the spell refused to give it a name.
Just like Slayer.
Even as a shadow fully under his control, it didn't register as anything more than what he named it.
Sunny stared up at it, thoughtful.
'What should I call you?'
The wolf didn't answer, obviously. But it did wag its tail a bit and lowered its head, as if politely waiting for the decision.
He raised a brow.
'There was that old Norse wolf… what was the name again?'
A beat passed. Then he nodded.
"Right. Fenrir."
The wolf blinked.
"Yeah… you look like a Fenrir." ('Not really… but eh.')
It gave a soft whimper in response.
Then—
It howled.
Not dramatic. Not world-ending. Just a solid, loud, very committed howl that faded into silence withing Sunny's soul sea.
Sunny smirked.
"…That'll do."
---
Back at the Labyrinth, where the night sky loomed like a low ceiling of ash and forgotten stars, the cohort rested atop a headless stone statue.
Everyone was taking a breather on hammocks of darkness that Sunny manifested from the shadows.
Except Caster, who was currently being bullied by his own shadow.
"BY THE DEAD GODS! STOP YOU TRAITOR!"
Sunny didn't even look. He just lifted a hand lazily and made a small gesture.
The shadow halted, slinking back like a guilty cat.
A chuckle escaped him as he rose to his feet with unhurried grace. He walked to the edge of the platform, boots brushing past cracks and moss.
Below, the dark sea waited. Still. Watching.
He already knew what it was.
A great titan.
Borne from a fallen Radiant.
'I wonder…'
The thought coiled in his head like smoke.
His lips curled into a grin that didn't reach his eyes.
With a flicker of intent, he summoned Serpent.
Golden sparks shimmered as the shadow slithered from his soul to his skin, crawling like ink down his arms and torso, spreading like onyx etched in runes.
It moved again, fluid and deliberate, gliding toward his hand before hardening into the form of a spear—sleek, tenebrific, and humming with a silent deathly aura.
He examined it. Summoning its runes.
One stood out:
[Death Incarnate] Ability Description: "When wielded as a Soul Weapon, it heeds no will, knows no mercy, and carves through the soul itself. Its strike is final—not against flesh, but the truth beneath."
It wasn't that the dark sea was too strong.
It had previously been sealed by him.
It wasn't that he couldn't kill it. He was wary of the seal trapping him instead.
'Well… that's not a problem now, is it?'
His smile sharpened.
Then—
He thrusted.
The spear didn't strike water.
It struck something deeper. Something that wasn't meant to be touched. Not by hands. Not by steel.
It cut into existence.
Into soul.
Into truth.
The attack was shallow. A graze.
Yet the very existence of the sea shuddered.
An experiment.
"Curious…"
He pulled the spear back and stared at the surface, now eerily still again.
To be fair, he'd expected this much.
He could kill the dark sea. Now.
If he infused his will into a stronger attack.
After all… he was the embodiment of death.
But that would stir the things that slumbered in the deep.
And Sunny preferred his fights guaranteed. If he did kill it here, He would need to expend unnecessary effort to defent both, the cohort and the others in the Dark City.
With that, he returned his focus to Crazy who was currently weaving memories in the Nameless Temple.
…
Eventually, daylight crept in like an afterthought.
And the cohort continued west.
Gralk had been dismissed with a mental command. Cassie now rode atop Fenrir—the massive direwolf. Her hands brushed over his obsidian fur as he whined softly, leaning into her touch like a pleased dog.
She turned toward Sunny's general direction.
"What's his name?"
He gave a small smile.
"Fenrir."
The words hung.
The group pressed on, shadows trailing behind them.
Cassie was giggling as she called out to Fenrir, who responded with enthusiastic tail-wags that nearly knocked Caster off balance.
Nephis, for her part, still walked like a blade half-drawn. Every motion ready. Every heartbeat sharp.
Sunny sighed.
'I already told them I'd handle the rest…'
And then—on cue—Caster's face met the ground.
Again.
His own shadow had swept his legs out from under him, completely unprovoked.
Sunny barked a laugh.
Cassie followed, her giggle echoing through the quiet paths of the Labyrinth.
She didn't see what happened, but she knew…
The journey west continued.
Eventually, the cohort came across a group of seven Carapace Centurions scavenging a dead shark-like fallen beast.
Nephis held a radiant longsword in her hand.
Prepared to fight.
The air in front of Caster crackled with sparks of pure radiance.
When—
Sunny raised a hand.
Just one.
"No need."
The words weren't loud.
But they stopped everything.
The moment the Centurions sensed the presence of four Sleepers…
They began to turn, their killing intent flared
Then—
The light dimmed. Shadows stretched, unnaturally long, leaning toward their master.
The Centurions froze mid-turn.
No one moved.
Not Nephis. Not even Caster—whose sparks sputtered, then died in his hands.
Even the air itself… fell still.
"…Sunny?" Cassie's voice broke the silence. Soft. Uncertain.
"What's happening?"
Sunny didn't answer. Not yet.
Then—
They dropped.
All seven. Like puppets with their strings severed by a hand no one saw.
"Nothing much," Sunny said lightly. "Just had to deal with a group of Awakened Monsters."
"Oh…" Cassie murmured, blissfully unaware of how he had dealt with them.
The shadows surged.
Free.
Moved with eerie purpose.
They slipped beneath the carapace of the fallen monsters.
They didn't tear the soul shards out with violence.
They retrieved them.
With reverence.
And offered them.
To Sunny.
To their Sovereign.
To their god.
[A shadow seeks your finality.]
[…]
[A shadow seeks your finality.]
Sunny tilted his head, feeling the fragments sink into his soul cores.
'No shades… not like I killed them.'
He smiled.
'Not like I needed them either.'
'I only wanted the Fragments.'
Nephis and Caster had witnessed everything.
And to say they were shocked would be an understatement.
"How did you kill them?" Nephis asked.
Sunny smiled, eyes gleaming with mischief.
"I didn't."
Nephis tilted her head… waiting.
He didn't continue.
He waited for someone to ask.
Eventually, it was Cassie who broke.
"Then how did they die, Sunny?"
He shrugged.
"It's quite simple, Cass," he said. "They made the mistake of directing killing intent at the god of shadows."
He let the words linger.
Hang.
Twist in the air like smoke.
"Their own shadows didn't take kindly to the insult."
With a dismissive chuckle, he manifested shadows to move the corpses out of the way.
Then continued carelessly walking westward, towards the Dark City.
Fenrir followed suit, so did the others.
They would reach their destination
---
At the same time, in the waking world: Haughty lounged in a nearby café, watching over Rain—with his shadow-senses—as she sat in class. Her school was basically a fortress of polished marble and prestige.
He sipped his coffee.
Steam curled into the morning air like lazy ghosts, his senses stretched beneath the earth, through walls, threading shadow into every corner of the building.
In the classroom, the teacher was droning on about something called Murphy's Law.
Sunny tilted his head.
"Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong," the teacher said.
He chuckled quietly. Truly—
Then, his communicator buzzed inside his pocket.
Still holding the coffee, he reached into his black coat with his free hand, pulling the device free with a flick of his wrist.
Jet.
His smile twitched with amusement.
He accepted the call.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of this call, Master Jet?"
Her voice came through a beat later—grim, measured.
"Sunny… it's going to happen soon."
No greeting. No banter.
Just unease, wrapped in certainty.
"The Antarctica Campaign. The Obel Scale's fluctuated—again. Second time this month."
A pause. He could hear her exhale.
"The big clans are staying quiet, they'll at most send a few units, maybe led by a Saint, but the government's already moving. Assembling Awakened. Volunteers, mostly."
Sunny listened in silence.
He already knew.
The troop shifts in the Dream Realm weren't subtle—not to him, not to his shadows.
Still, he let the silence stretch a heartbeat longer before replying.
"Do we have a timeline?"
Jet didn't answer immediately.
"…No," she finally admitted. "Could be months. Could be years. We're in the dark."
Sunny smiled into the breeze.
"That's fine. I've got some loose ends to tie up anyway."
He sipped his coffee again, savoring the bitter warmth.
Then, his tone shifted.
Bright. Gleeful.
"But I will be there. With my own unit."
Jet sounded as if she'd been caught off-guard. "…What?"
He laughed. Low and quiet.
"The Shadow Clan is accepting applications now, you know."
Then, with full theatrical cheer:
"Would you like to join?"
***
I'll need to re-read FS and Antarctica arc and so the next chapter might be delayed.