Shadow Slave

Sunny remained silent for a long time, staring at the black mask. The tranquil sea of his soul was still and silent... not at all like the storm that was currently raging in his heart.

After a while, he thought:

'That Weaver was one sly guy… girl… person… being? Well, the fact that I don't even know that much only serves to prove the point. And I thought I was good at deceit and manipulation.'

How devious one must be to not let even the gods, even the Nightmare Spell know anything about them?

But it was fitting, in a strange kind of way. If Weaver's domain was that of fate, there was no other way. Fate was a terrifying, but subtle tool. Manipulating it to your advantage required a very special kind of genius, one that was directly opposite to any kind of directness, straightforwardness, and brutal power.

However, if given the choice, Sunny would have preferred to face War God in battle than to make someone like Weaver his enemy.

Masterful liars were far more dangerous than deadly warriors. He knew it better than most.

…Exiting the Soul Sea, Sunny hesitated for a little and then summoned the Weaver's Mask. The cool wooden surface of the mask appeared on his face, held in place by some invisible force.

Immediately, his vision changed slightly. Everything became sharper, clearer, more vivid. Sunny could feel the mask reaching into his eyes and connecting to something — the strange legacy he had inherited by consuming the drop of Weaver's blood. He sensed his intuition becoming more potent, too.

It was as though he could almost see the mysterious strings of fate that span across the entire world.

…Almost.

Glancing at the pile of dust that remained of the prisoner, Sunny frowned slightly.

The identity of the person who had been wearing the Weaver's Mask remained a secret. Just who had this corpse belonged to, and how had they ended up chained to the floor in a hidden dungeon cell beneath the majestic cathedral?

The easiest thing to assume was that it was Weaver themselves, but Sunny dismissed that theory immediately.

below that of the gods… and that of the Unknown, perhaps. If Weaver appeared on the Forgotten Shore, the whole Dark City would have been wiped out of existence before any harm

powerful carrier of the Nightmare Spell that had received it as a Memory, just how

'Well…'

which was a strange kind of a lesser deity, were there a cult dedicated to them? Had there been priests and followers of Weaver? The message the prisoner had left behind sounded awfully close to a prayer. Had that person been deemed a heretic and condemned to this place for

There was

He only had this one day to finish

Sunny walked over to the place where he had left his shadow and took a look

'Huh…'

on his face, hiding his features. He couldn't even see his eyes, which

One second, it did, and the next one, it did not. It was sort of similar to how people's faces changed when lighted from different directions. In any case, he couldn't tell for sure

'How fun!'

things like the way he walked, his usual mannerisms, and other subtle but

something else, Sunny would

was practicing the Shadow Dance, then. Was it not designed

'What a wonderful coincidence...'

It was time to test

say, Sunny was nervous. His lips became dry, and he unconsciously tried to lick them… but now there was a mask on his face, so he couldn't. That bad habit of his had

let's

his mouth, Sunny said

"I am… very tall!"

he grimaced, expecting the familiar

…But there was nothing.

couple of times, and waited.

mask, a wide grin appeared

too. Every girl I meet immediately falls in love with me. Boys, too! That's just how lovable, handsome, nice and tall I am. Everything I have

no pain, no