Shadow Slave

Sunny almost stumbled because of the terrible realization.

Was the mutilated body inside the nest of moss… still alive?

'How could that be?'

Thousands of years must have passed since the flying ship crashed on this desolate island. How long had this poor soul suffered this harrowing torture? What sin had they committed, and who had doomed them for an eternity of ghastly suffering? How had the vines ended up growing from their flesh, and why?

But most importantly… how the hell was that mangled thing not dead?! Even divine flame was powerless to end its grisly, gruesome existence.

If Sunny could find the answer, maybe he would be able to kill the Corrupted Monster, after all.

Using the momentary lull in the onslaught of the vines that Saint's appearance had bought him, he faced away from the fight and tried to understand what the host of the abominable growth was pointing at.

He desperately hoped that the ancient human was, indeed, trying to point at something, and not just convulsing in terrible pain.

'Where is it… what is it…'

His gaze flew to a certain point on the wall of the cargo hold and lingered on it.

At first glance, there was nothing different about it. That section of the bulkhead was just like all the rest, ancient and overgrown with brown moss. But as he looked closer, he noticed a small gap in the layer of moss, as well as a strange bend to the vines growing on that particular wall.

It was as though they, too, wanted to avoid something lodged into the wooden boards.

That had to be it!

circular gap, just a splinter of wood sticking out of it at a sharp angle. His heart was beating like a wild beast in a cage, consumed equally by hope and

slithering vines, he hesitated for a moment, and then rushed

has to be something… there has

pointed at that section of the wall for a reason. Or rather, he hoped that they

tore his way through the cargo hold, feeling more wounds appearing on his body and more poison flowing

that the poison came

his way, leaving it broken and singed, and crashed into the overgrown bulkhead near the small gap in the brown moss. Drawing in a

'Wait… is it?'

His eyes widened slightly.

thought to be a

cargo hold, thrust deeply into it by someone's hand, was a rather simple-looking knife. Its shape, however,

the white altar of the Sanctuary of Noctis, except for the fact that this one wasn't cut from a single piece

wasn't cut from

a tree branch had somehow grown in the shape of a knife, and was then broken

'What does it mean?'

a split second, and then decisively grabbed the handle

don't tell me that I need a thousand coins to lift this one,

some effort, a moment later, the wooden blade slid from where it was thrust into the wall, and Sunny found himself holding the Cruel Sight in one hand, and the strange wooden

Something else happened, though.

cargo hold surged in

Sunny paled.

'Crap!'

abandoned all attempts to escape

his grip, cut a sharp arc in the air,

dashed toward the pulsating mass of