Shadow Slave

Two days had passed after the battle with Mordret's previous vessel and the army of corpse puppets he had created with its help. Those of the wounded who had received light injuries were already back on their feet, but three of the sentinels were still in bad shape.

Their comrades were doing everything in their power to treat their wounds, but with every healer in the Citadel already dead, there was little that could be done to hasten the recovery. One of the corners of the hall was converted into an infirmary, where the three heavily injured sentinels rested and received care.

…In the morning, a piercing scream suddenly echoed between the black stone walls. Those who were sleeping jumped up, grabbing the weapons that they had kept summoned to be ready for an attack. Those who remained awake were already moving, rushing toward the source of the scream — the makeshift infirmary.

Sunny simply sat up on his mattress, a tense expression on his face.

There were three cots for the wounded, standing in a row along the wall. It was the Lost who occupied the middle one that was screaming, his face contorted by an expression of sheer terror.

The other two were dead.

Their throats were sliced open, blood streaming to the floor. Both were killed in their sleep, without alerting anyone around… as far away from the entrance to the hall as it was possible, right in the middle of the sentinels' camp.

The third one clearly could have been murdered as well, and had been left alive on purpose, as if to mock the Lost.

It was as though Mordret was telling them that no one was safe, and that he was perfectly capable of taking each of them whenever he pleased.

"W—what?!"

"How did he get inside?!"

"He might still be here!"

The Lost were on the verge of panicking, but in the end, their training and skill prevailed. Instead of descending into chaos, the situation inside the hall immediately turned into a coordinated action. Even before Peirce and Welthe arrived, the sentinels were already moving to stand in a defensive formation, weapons drawn and ready for battle.

The two Masters appeared mere seconds after the scream. They quickly assessed the situation and joined their soldiers, half of the Echoes moving closer, half barring the doors.

For a few moments, there was a tense silence in the stronghold of the Valor forces. The surviving sentinels waited tensely by the infirmary, while five empty-eyed Echoes blocked the exit.

There was no one else in the hall… except for Sunny and Cassie, who had not moved from the start of it all.

Lost focused on the two of them. Their gazes were dark, cold,

Sunny's face twitched.

'Crap…'

them? Was he trying to force them out into

plan, really? What was his endgame? How was he planning to deal with Saint Cormac in a few days, and what

mouth, wishing to say something to defuse the situation,

must be one

and Cassie were assaulted by a litany of cries, all

was not a group of people, but a massive creature with many heads, many shouting mouths, and many eyes that burned with

not know reason, it only knew fear, and

few things

resilient and prepared than most people, but even battle-hardened warriors like them had a limit. After weeks of being hunted, slaughtered, and brutalized by

behind the accusations. Neither Sunny nor Cassie possessed the means to commit the murder unnoticed —

explain this was drowned by the chorus

noticed Pierce and Welthe exchanging a quick look, their faces calm, but somber. At least these two

His heartbeat slowed.

took in the entirety of the hall — the Echoes standing guard near the doors, the two Masters, the formation of the Lost, the dead sentinels laying on the blood-soaked

And what

this moment that a

His

action was enough to cause a chain effect

forward, throwing a javelin at Sunny.

came of

instantly, Pierce growled, his voice

wretched bastards! Who ordered you to attack?! Anyone who

Welthe turned into a blur and appeared in front of Sunny, catching the javelin before it could get anywhere near him. She looked at the weapon with a scowl,

standing in front of the sentinel formation suddenly turned, facing the Lost. Their empty eyes stared at the frightened warriors, no

the human crowd. No matter how far gone the sentinels were, there were still remnants of discipline etched deep into their

than that, the easiest way to defeat fear was with

accusing shouts abruptly stopped. The Lost