Shadow Slave

The slum dweller pressed his finger against his lips and hissed in exasperation:

"Take that back! Are you crazy?"

Sunny blinked.

"What? No. Well, I was crazy for a while. But now I am not."

The young man looked at him with doubt and shook his head:

"Still, don't jinx yourself. Do you at least have a Memory to keep you safe?"

The question of arming themselves was a big problem for Neph's followers. More than half of them didn't have a Memory armor or a weapon, having to make do with mundane armaments fashioned out of anything that was at hand. It was one of the reasons why fighting against the Guards and the Hunters was so hard for them.

The other guy, the one who used to pay tribute, sighed and call out to his friend:

"Have you lost your mind? You are talking to a member of Lady Nephis's personal cohort. Of course he has Memories."

With that, both of them looked down on their own makeshift swords.

These two were among those who wielded Black Claws, blades made out of the talons of the Spire Messenger Sunny and the rest had killed. Their bases were wrapped with leather, allowing a person to use the long curved talon as a weapon.

Considering that these talons came from a Fallen Monster, as far as weapons went, they were some of the best. Wielding them efficiently was not an easy task, though.

The slum dweller grimaced.

"Right. Damn! I am proud to wield one of the Black Claws, don't get me wrong. But if each of us had a proper set of Memories… those bastards wouldn't be picking us off one by one anymore, that's for sure."

a complicated

good Memory can change a

he turned around, the smile disappeared

save your lives, though. All of you are just

he left the two Sleepers behind, climbed

they were right. The lack of Memories

deeper and deeper into the belly of the ancient citadel. The Bright Castle was enormous in size and had countless twisting corridors. Some were comparatively easy to navigate,

hearts prowling these corridors, as well as much more terrifying things. Disturbing sounds sometimes echoed through the stone halls,

he decided to hide to avoid being noticed by the patrols of the Guards or the Hunters. Following in their wake, he stumbled on

with careful steps. It was

'...Ugh, what a bother.'

witnessed a scene that was typical in the ancient citadel these

human was trying

that seemed vaguely familiar. The large man was pressing someone small and skinny to the wall, strangling them with gauntleted hands. A broken oil lantern was burning on the floor, making the shadows of the two struggling people seem

oozing blood. It was contorted in an expression of

hair and brown eyes, which

transparent dagger across the Guard's throat. Hot blood shot into

hoarse breath, rubbing her bruised neck. A

with a youthful face and dark, strangely magnetic eyes. Currently, he was wiping his dagger on the sleeve of his armor and staring at the dying Guard with

disturbingly nonchalant, not at all like someone who had just killed another human being. There was neither disgust and fear

was the face of

the young man

"Uh… you're Aiko, right?"

from his days in the Castle. Back then, she had been one of the few people who were able to pay tribute without worrying

the members of the Host. But it was also the reason why many of