Shadow Slave

'Here we go…'

Sunny faced the stairwell and stood motionless, looking at the black rot through his trembling shadow. Sensing something, Saint turned around, too. The tip of her sword hesitantly rose into the air.

The next few moments were going to decide whether he was going to live or die... or maybe be condemned to a fate much worse than death.

One level lower, the harrowing corruption that had been spreading from the severed arm of a deity was moving. The black ulcerous flesh was rising and falling, as if in the throes of… death? Or transformation?

Sunny gritted his teeth, waited for a second…

And then breathed out with immeasurable relief.

'Dying… it's dying.'

It felt as though he had been sentenced to execution, only for a pardon to arrive at the last possible moment, when the rope was already pressing on his neck.

Indeed, the terrifying rot was withering. As thousands of years that passed since it was locked in the Obsidian Tower caught up with it, the devouring corruption appeared to be dying of starvation. The stone surface assimilated into it convulsed and wriggled, as if consumed by pain. The silver brazier was melting.

The growths of the bulbous black flesh were slowly receding, their color turning ashen. The process was slow, but at the edges of the patch of corruption, the rot was already turning into… into wisps of darkness, which then disappeared without a trace.

As tension left Sunny's body, he couldn't help but sway a little.

'Good… something has gone my way, at last.'

Before, he had been considering his options and finding no possible way to escape from the rot if it was to start spreading.

the Awakened Memory could do would work, considering that even the original owner of the seven-fingered hand resorted to severing their limb completely

using the Cruel Sight, which was now infused with divine flame. But something told Sunny that the massive brazier where the rot had taken root had once been full of

flame couldn't destroy or stop the black rot, then what hope

had destroyed itself. Neither divine flame nor an actual deity had been able to damage the black rot, but its hunger — and the relentless nature of

'Thank gods…'

and tiredly closed his

slowly disappearing, bit after bit. All that was left behind were the damaged stone and the memory of

He grimaced.

damn the gods! Why would they allow for such a

wiped the sweat off his face, then turned

up the long, sharp needle

seemed to have been made out of polished iron, but due to the traces of divine blood absorbed by it, the cold metal had assumed a feint golden shine. Sunny looked at it for a long time, trying to understand if this was a mundane item or

he had to admit

turn into a Memory like Weaver's Mask had. He didn't see any spellweave inside of it, either. However, the needle also didn't feel like a simple

bit, then summoned the Covetous Coffer and carefully placed the needle inside. The

will have time to

hesitated for a bit, then reluctantly headed back toward the second level

die, and then

***

was sitting on the lowest step of the stairs

left of

its sweet time dying. Even the hunger of thousands of years could not destroy it so easily, it seemed. The black

to spread outward, clearly sensing the presence of a living being nearby and lusting to absorb it… him. But the profane infestation was too

apart, then disappeared into wisps of