Shadow Slave

Six minutes.

That was how long Sunny managed to hold on until things really went from bad to terrible.

By then, the ground in front of the Gate was littered with piles of corpses, their blood flowing down the pavement like a crimson stream. He had lost count of how many dormant abominations he had slain, how many ancient hunters he had sliced apart. Despite how strong and fearsome the primeval wraiths were, their assault had broken against the impenetrable barrier of his blade, his Aspect, and his will.

Sunny paid a price, though.

By now, his muscles were burning, and he had to force the air in and out of his struggling lungs. The Mantle of the Underworld held, but his body beneath the black stonelike metal was beaten and battered. The armor itself was covered in blood and dented slightly in several places.

Those dents did not come from the hunters, though.

During the third wave, new Nightmare Creatures emerged from the darkness of the Gate… among them were larger beasts, more terrifying than the hounds Sunny had been slaughtering.

And their masters.

The demons of the mysterious Barrow were similar to the desiccated huntsmen, but much taller, stronger, and better equipped. They wielded masterfully crafted flint weapons and armors made out of rotten leather and bone, their empty eyes burning with hungry red flames.

What's worse, they really knew how to use their stone spears and swords.

Met with the strange, ferocious, and deviously lethal battle style of the primeval demons, Sunny was sent for a loop. This was like nothing he had ever experienced before. They fought with the straightforward, yet insidious resolve of cunning apex predators, with the evil will to kill through any means necessary, always following the most efficient and barbarously cruel path to dominance.

It should not have worked, but it did.

Sunny's armor

ancient wraiths came from people similar to his own world's prehistoric humans, then they were

— including all other nascent branches of the human kind — in one fell avalanche. With their flint weapons and the knowledge of fire, they became nothing less than the cause and perpetrators of the sixth

kind of starting

few of them, at least — too. More than that, he reached into the very essence of Shadow Dance and greedily absorbed every nuance of their primeval and ferocious fighting style, and then reflected it back at the

Blossom had long ago reached its

that Sunny was battered and growing dangerously tired, his reserves of shadow essence swiftly diminishing, for a few moments, he felt as though he

to stand his ground for the

realized that he would

of corpses he had built in front of it exploded, and a giant beast — twice as tall as Sunny as

at it with wide

long, scarlet bone spikes piercing the hide along the spine. The head of the

Fallen… that

from the hounds and larger beasts he had been fighting against, since it — just like the ancient hunters — was itself a wraith. A corpse

'Crap!'

to make his armor as heavy as possible and lowered his stance, knowing full well that he couldn't allow that

next moment, two thousand kilograms of rotting flesh and sharp horns crashed into

'Cr…'

a split second, everything became

off the asphalt and then rolling across it at a terrible speed, up until

'Not... good…'