Shadow Slave

"Glory! Glory! Glory!"

Sunny growled, falling to the ground, the heavy body of a stone gargoyle pressing him down, its claws buried in his chest. A dark radiance rose from his skin, the scales of a coiling serpent becoming more visible, and then, one of the forearms of the abomination shattered, pulled apart by his hands.

The creature roared, its tail shooting forward like a spear. He had no time to dodge or deflect the blow, so instead, Sunny simply endured the blinding pain of the stone spike piercing his shoulder, and pushed with his feet, straining to jump up.

As the result, his horns struck the gargoyle in the chin, impaling it through the skull.

Something cold streamed down his face, and, momentarily blinded, Sunny struck the abomination in the chest with all his might, sending the stone goliath flying back.

The gargoyle exploded into a rain of stone shards when its body struck the floor of the arena.

Sunny breathed heavily, his torso a mess of torn flesh, and then tiredly searched for the remaining enemy, which was supposed to be fighting the Awakened youth… if he was still alive.

His second day in the coliseum had been both easier and more harrowing than the first.

It was easier because Sunny was slowly growing accustomed to his new inhuman body. For someone else, this process might have taken longer, but he had always put adaptability and control of his physicality first.

Both the flowing battle style Nephis had taught him and Shadow Dance were meant to make the practitioner as flexible and versatile as possible, the latter especially being the pinnacle of malleability.

So, he had plenty of practice to prepare himself for waking up in the body of an actual demon, ironically. Who would have thought?

…But this day's battles were also much more lethal. At first, Sunny had thought that his luck was just this bad, but after he and the young Awakened had barely survived the first two boxes, the youth shared a bit of knowledge that put everything into perspective.

Apparently, by surviving the previous day's slaughter and making their way to the center of the arena, the two of them earned the privilege of being added to the main herd of gladiators. In other words, everyone — and every thing — they faced today had won seven consecutive fights in the past, as well.

This was the creme of the crop of the enslaved combatants, more or less.

And the final stage was also going to be different…

'Damnation…'

two swift shadows some distance away, then finally saw them. His eyesight wasn't the best in daylight,

that he had picked up in their second fight. He was dancing around the gargoyle, showing a good

young man was inexperienced, but incredibly talented. His battle prowess was perhaps on par with what Sunny himself had shown on the Forgotten Shore. Or

the youth. What was the point of knowing how to

can't hold it off much

behind the gargoyle in a whirlwind of claws. With a loud roar, he crashed into the towering creature and caught it in a deadly embrace. The steel cables of his muscles moved under the obsidian skin, and with a low growl, Sunny lifted the

how much Saint

body, the burden of a monster of similar proportions, made entirely out of stone, was almost too

Almost…

a speeding train, and smashed the creature against the spikes mounted on the wall,

expressing their joy and admiration of

extinguished in the eyes of the abomination, then took a step back on

shut up for a

even

a dark expression. Then, he glanced at his sword, and finally at

don't

black eyes, no recognizable human expression on his strange, bestial

noticed? Damn,

terrible, with his obsidian skin torn in many places and sliced muscle tissue visible beneath. The most disturbing thing about it was the fact that his mangled flesh was awash with crimson blood, but none of it flowed out of the wounds,

as he had thought he would in the battle against the gargoyles, in large part because the monsters

have to reveal at least one of

then suddenly stepped forward

by the unexpected

I'm trying to help

'What the hell…'

cerulean light, and his curly blond hair moved, as if brushed

and at the same time, the torn fibers of his

wounds on his body had almost closed. The young man, however, paled considerably and stepped back, his breathing

'Well, I'll be damned…'