Shadow Slave

Sunny stepped into the patch of mangled obsidian and slowly approached the alabaster phalanx, then kneeled beside it and lingered, studying its golden shine.

He was trying to determine if any sign of the harrowing rot remained, but also felt pulled toward the radiant bone and found it hard to look away.

'All of this insanity, just for that little piece of bone. What secrets does it hold?'

He hesitated for a moment, then reached down and picked up the phalanx.

Sunny had instinctively expected it to crumble into a torrent of white sparks and hear the Spell proclaim that he had acquired a new Memory, just like what had happened with Weaver's Mask… that Memory being, perhaps, another Drop of Ichor.

But nothing of the sort happened.

The bone felt cold and smooth to the touch. There was still marrow inside, wet and infused with bright golden radiance. Sunny tilted his head, stumped. What was he supposed to do now?

In hindsight, the fact that the phalanx was not going to turn into a Memory was rather sensible… obvious, even. After all, Memories were simply copies of real items recreated by the Spell, just like Echoes were copies of actual creatures — or items conjured by it from scratch following some unknown principle.

This, however… this was the real deal.

The alabaster bone had nothing to do with the Spell. It wasn't a recreation, it was… the original.

Sunny frowned, feeling unsure about how he was supposed to proceed.

Then, a certain scene suddenly appeared in his mind. Back in the ruined cathedral of the Dark City, Saint stood above the rusted remains of the Black Knight, holding a black gem in her hand. With a hint of some dark emotion burning in her ruby eyes, she raised the gem to her mouth, and bit into it.

Before he could fully process the implications of this image, Sunny followed a strange instinct. Without allowing himself time to think about it, he opened his mouth, put the phalanx inside… and swallowed it.

'What?!'

He blinked a couple of times.

'What did I just do?!'

stared at his empty hand, in which a divine bone had been just a few seconds ago,

then… it was as though a

'Crap!'

***

his entire being. It was the unbearable agony he knew and remembered all too well… the feeling of his very nature being forcibly changed into something that it

maybe simply not allowed

Dream Realm for the first time... the feeling of your whole body being torn apart and

here we go

the drop of Weaver's blood. Back then, it had felt as though every muscle, every fiber, every molecule in his body were destroyed and recreated over and over again, becoming slightly different with each time. The agony had been especially excruciating when it came to his eyes, which had felt as though two white-hot

This time was different.

concentrated in his spine, in his bones, in the marrow permeating them. His fingers in particular felt as though there was molten, incandescent, liquid metal flowing through

Sunny shrieked.

damn it!

It hurt so much…

the branches of the Soul Devouring Tree. After a few more minutes of it, Sunny felt the Blood Weave suddenly come alive and rush through his veins, absorbing the harrowing heat and then carrying it to every cell of his body. Slowly but

process of transformation

extremely unpleasant sensation, one suffused with a feeling of profound wrongness, but

"Hell, that was... rough."

voice was

the side and noticed Saint, who was

No

itself. It was pacing nervously, turning to Sunny from time to time and timidly offering its

currently wrapped around his body, so it couldn't offer any feedback. He had no doubt

irritating! I would rather be mocked, curse

the unpleasant feeling of his body being demolished

which felt like an eternity — it was all finally

feeling of relief spread through Sunny's body. It felt… more

Resilient.

'Just what have I…'

of the Spell suddenly thundered in the solemn dark hall, interrupting his