Nephis woke to the faint sound of movement. When she opened her eyes, she saw Sunny already deep in practice, his body weaving through the graceful, lethal motions of the Shadow Dance. The morning light hadn't even touched the treetops yet.
She sat up slowly, brushing a few strands of hair from her face.
"Hey, Sunny. Good morning."
He finished the sequence, let the final motion hang in the air for a heartbeat longer than needed, then allowed himself to drop to the ground. Sweat dripped from his chin onto the soil.
"Hey, Neph," he said casually, breathing hard.
While Nephis started roasting some of the meat, Sunny settled into a cross-legged position and closed his eyes, falling into quiet meditation. She didn't say anything more—he was focused, and she had no desire to break that silence.
The scent of cooked meat drifted lazily through the camp, carried on a warm breeze. Somewhere behind her, Cassie stirred. A moment later, Sunny opened his eyes, as if sensing the shift before any sound had even been made.
They ate together without speaking much. Afterward, Cassie told them about her newest vision. They needed to go west, toward the castle.
Sunny didn't react. He had already known.
But for Nephis, it was new—and she listened, expression unreadable.
Then, Sunny stood, brushing the dust from his hands, and looked at her with that strange, detached calm of his.
"Nephis. Do you want to spar? If we're going to fight together, we should know what the other can do."
She didn't answer right away.
Sparring meant exposure. Vulnerability. It meant giving something away—and Nephis rarely gave anything. But this was necessary. Useful.
"…Alright."
They moved a bit away from the camp so Cassie wouldn't be in danger. No words were exchanged. None were needed.
They faced each other in silence. The ground was dry, cracked in places. Old scars from older battles.
Nephis drew in a slow breath. Then moved.
She attacked like a falling blade—sharp, precise, and terrifying in her efficiency. Every step was calculated, every strike honed. There was no waste. No hesitation. Her body moved the way it had been trained to move since childhood—like a weapon.
Sunny stood loose, almost lazily. His stance was open. Relaxed. There was even a faint smile playing on his lips.
At first, it irritated her. That careless look… that smug confidence. But then, something in her instincts made her pause—he was baiting her. Playing a part. It wasn't arrogance. It was intention.
And that made him dangerous.
She struck—fast and clean, descending from above with surgical precision.
He slipped aside like a shadow.
Not with a block. Not with a counter. He simply wasn't there anymore.
She pivoted, flowing into the next strike before her momentum could even fade. This one was sharper—targeted at his legs, testing his balance.
But again, he didn't resist. He didn't stop her.
He just… moved.
Like he already knew what she would do.
He answered with a feint—barely a touch—but it nearly clipped her shoulder. Just a warning. Just enough to let her know that if he had wanted to hit her, he could have.
Her eyes narrowed.
He wasn't just dodging. He was watching. Reading. Anticipating.
They circled again.
She was form and control.
He was chaos and instinct.
Her attacks came like a tactician's gambit—methodical, relentless. His defense was fluid, reactive.
No hits landed.
At least, that's what she thought—until the sky above her turned gray.
She blinked.
She didn't remember how it happened. Only that it had.
She'd lost.
Not by a small margin.
By worlds.
It wasn't stamina—his chest was heaving with exertion, while she was still calm. It wasn't strength—he didn't overpower her. She hadn't even broken a sweat.
But somehow… he had won.
First she had been so certain. So sure she had everything under control.
And then, in a moment, she didn't.
She still believed she was stronger. And maybe that was true. But she realized something far more unsettling—he could have killed her. Easily. At any moment during that fight and even befor.
And he chose not to.
Not because he couldn't.
Because he didn't want to.
And that thought… stuck.
She wasn't sure if she had believed him yet—not completely. He said he couldn't lie. But what if that was the lie? Maybe he was just the kind of person who could stay calm even with his cover blown. Cold. Calculating.
But he wasn't.
He wasn't an assassin. He wasn't a killer. At least not her Killer. Not that she doubted his abilyt to kill people or even her.
And more than that—he wasn't lying.
She knew what had happened now.
He wasn't stronger. He hadn't trained more.
It was his technique. His experience. The kind that only came from actual combat—the kind forged in real blood, real danger, real survival.
She could have worn him down, eventually. If she used her Aspect, if she went all out, she might have overwhelmed him. Might have killed him.
But she didn't.
Because… why would she?
He was honest.
And he meant no harm.
In the end, the sparring match ended not with a victor, not with a winner and a looser, but with both of them lowering their guards.
And walking away with an unspoken truth between them.
The next morning, they made their way into the Coral Labyrinth.
Their goal was a familiar one—Sunny wanted to return to the place where he had spent his first night in the Dream Realm. The headless stone statue.
By evening, they arrived.
They encountered only three enemies that day—small, malformed creatures skulking through the shifting passages of the Coral Labyrinth. Not a real threat. Just an interruption.
Before they engaged, Sunny turned to Nephis. His expression unreadable, as always.
"Let me take the kills," he said quietly.
She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Can i ask you why?"
He met her gaze without flinching. "I don't mind telling you. It's my Aspect. It's… Divine."
That gave her pause.
Sunny continued, his voice calm, almost clinical. "In order to empower my soul core, I have to kill Nightmare Creatures myself. I can't absorb soul shards. You and Cassie can have all of those. I just need the kills."
For a long moment, there was silence.
Cassie turned her head in Sunny's direction, clearly startled. "Divine…? You mean, your Aspect is Divine?"
He didn't respond. Not with words, at least.
Nephis stood still, her thoughts momentarily derailed.
A Divine Aspect. That was rare enough to be nearly mythical. Even among the most powerful Awakened, few ever claimed such a title and she was one of them to. The implications were immense.
But what shocked her wasn't the revelation.
It was that he had told her.
He could have avoided the question. Deflected. Hidden behind silence or sarcasm—he often did. There was no reason for him to share something so personal.
And yet… he had.
No games. No secrets.
Just the truth.
That unnerved her far more than the label "Divine" ever could.
Because honesty—true, raw honesty—was rare. Dangerous. It left one vulnerable.
And he had offered it without hesitation.
Why?
She didn't know. And that, more than anything else, made her wary.
Sunny stepped forward, drawing his weapon in a fluid motion. The fight that followed was quick. Brutal. Efficient.
He didn't even look back to see if she was watching.
But she was.
And she couldn't stop wondering what else he hadn't lied about.
here wasn't much time left in the day. Just enough to light a fire and roast some meat. The glow of the flames danced in their eyes, and for a while, no one spoke.
Afterward, Sunny stood and began practicing the Shadow Dance again, moving like smoke in the wind—sharp, elusive, deliberate. Then, as always, he sat in stillness and meditated. Nephis watched in silence.
Eventually, he opened his eyes.
"You up for another round?" he asked.
She raised an eyebrow but nodded.
He gave her a small, crooked smile. "Don't use your full strength this time. I want to last a little longer… and show you something. If you go all out, you'll wear me down in minutes."
She didn't respond, but there was a flicker in her eyes. Something like… satisfaction. She wouldn't admit it, of course, but she was glad he had acknowledged it—her stamina. Her strength. The sheer endurance that he couldn't match. But then the realization struck her like a cold wave. Sunny wasn't weak—but he lacked the raw endurance. The reserves. The physical resilience that should've come with someone as skilled as he was.
And it wasn't because of laziness or carelessness.
It was because of years.
Years of living in deprivation. Of scraping by in the outskirts. Of growing up in a world that never gave him enough to eat, let alone train properly.
He had survived, somehow… but at a cost.
Her mood turned solemn.
There was no pity in her—Nephis didn't pity anyone. But she understood what it meant to carry strength like a torch in the dark… and what it cost to reach for it when you had nothing to begin with.
He was strong in all the ways that couldn't be seen.
And that, perhaps, was the most dangerous strength of all.
They began again.
But this time, something changed.
Sunny didn't just react. He didn't fall back on instinct or let her set the pace. He stepped in with a technique she knew intimately—because it was hers.
Except it wasn't.
His version was… different. Sharper. More precise. Not a mockery. Not a copy. A refinement. A quiet evolution of something she thought she had mastered long ago—only now, seeing it through his movements, she realized how imperfect her original form had been.
At first, she felt anger rise in her chest. Her hand twitched to stop the fight, demand an answer. How did he know her technique? And how could he use it better than she could?
But the anger passed—because behind it came something colder. Fear.
Just for a heartbeat.
He was using her own weapon against her… and wielding it with frightening skill. Not to humiliate. Not to dominate.
To teach.
That realization hit her harder than any strike. He wasn't mocking her. He was training her.
He exposed every opening. Punished every wasted movement. He held nothing back in his analysis, and yet never overwhelmed her. Never tried to break her down.
He was… a good teacher. A damn good one.
She hated how much she respected that.
And so the spar continued, stretching into the night. The only sound was their breathing, the rustle of feet over stone, and the occasional sharp exhale as one of them struck close.
Cassie listend in silence.
Eventually, they stopped. Sat near the fire. Their bodies were tired, but their minds were still turning.
Nephis broke the silence.
"…How do you know my technique?" Her voice was quiet, almost thoughtful. "And to such a… frightening degree?"
She had forgotten their deal entirely. In the heat of battle, in the rush of learning, she had let her guard down. Let curiosity take over.
Sunny didn't answer immediately. Then, he chuckled.
"You taught it to me."
She frowned.
He looked at her calmly. "You broke your promise. On the second day after we made it. But… I understand. It wasn't on purpose. You weren't thinking about it."
His words were soft. But they hit like a blade to the ribs.
Nephis froze.
She hadn't meant to. She really hadn't. But she had broken it. And some things—no matter how small—weren't supposed to be broken. Not even by accident.
Not by her.
Not by Changing Star, last scion of the Immortal Flame Clan.
She felt a strange knot twist in her chest. Embarrassment. Shame. Guilt.
But above all, she was… uncomfortable.
Because he wasn't angry.
He had expected it.
That shook her more than anything.
He knew her. Knew her well enough to predict this. To see past her indifference, past her carefully maintained calm.
And yet, he remained a mystery to her.
A complete enigma.
And somehow… that scared her more than the sparring ever had.