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.

and that of the Unknown, perhaps. If Weaver appeared on the Forgotten Shore, the whole

who could have been wearing Weaver's Mask? Some powerful carrier of the Nightmare Spell that had

'Well…'

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

There was no way

this one day to finish all the things he had left undone

and took a look

'Huh…'

black lacquered mask sat snuggly on his face, hiding his features. He couldn't even see his eyes, which were drowned in

Sunny didn't actually become taller, but from the side, it looked as though he did… sort of? 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.

'How fun!'

to hide the context clues about himself while wearing the mask. Mundane things like the way he walked, his usual mannerisms, and other subtle but unique

make himself appear as something else, Sunny

it not

'What a wonderful coincidence...'

moment he had been dreading came. It was time to test if the [Simple Trick] was really capable

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 to be put to rest,

Alright, let's do

his mouth, Sunny said out

"I am… very tall!"

grimaced, expecting the

…But there was nothing.

a couple of times,

wide

too. Every girl I meet immediately falls in love

was peaceful and quiet. There was no