Shadow Slave

A new day brought with it a new portion of pain, hardship, and despair.

Sunny and Elyas were dragged into the arena, the same Ascended warmonger guiding them by the chains attached to the collars. Sunny stumbled forward, his gaze locked on the man's broad back.

The jailer was incredibly tall for a human, his height more than even that of the shadow demon Sunny was currently inhabiting. His figure was solemn and powerful, a sense of terrifying strength radiating from it in almost physical waves. The apostle of War wore the same ragged leather armor and a tattered red robe, his features hidden behind a deep hood.

In all these weeks, Sunny had never seen his face, or heard him speak.

The great blade on the Ascended warrior's back looked special, too. It was definitely enchanted with very powerful magic… now that Sunny turned his thoughts to the nature of sorcery, he was silently studying the line of runes inscribed along the edge of the heavy weapon.

'Runic magic again…'

That made sense… how else were these ancient people supposed to enchant their weapons? It was not like they could rely on Memories and spellweave. That said, magical weapons seemed to be much rarer in the Kingdom of Hope than in the waking world. Most of the Awakened Sunny had fought in the arena wielded either mundane ones or those possessing weak, primitive enchantments.

It was the far cry from the powerful Memories he was used to, although Sunny did not know if that was the nature of this era, or just another sign of the ubiquitous regression that seemed to reign in what remained of the Kingdom of Hope. Everything here seemed devolved, worn out, and on the verge of falling apart.

The whole region was obviously in decline, and had been for some time now.

...While studying the runes on the great blade, he also noticed that it had a few new nicks. The leather armor of the silent giant had more scratches than before, as well…

It seemed that the Ascended was participating in the battles in the arena himself.

'I guess I'll have to fight that monster too, eventually...'

Finally, a rusty iron gate appeared in front of them, blinding sunlight streaming through its bars. The rumbling voices of the crowd echoed from the stone walls, washing over him like a cursed tide.

the chains came off of their collars. Sunny and Elyas entered the first killing box and watched as

Awakened brandished his weapon — a short spear fashioned out

creatures are called Burrowers. On

snarled, then dashed forward with a

was going to

much threatened to destroy his already unsteady mind. He also had to both concentrate on the fight and thoroughly study the

simultaneously keeping an eye on his shadow to decipher the secret of its dance. The problem was that, back then, he had ended up beaten

couldn't allow himself to

with giant circular maws gaping in them, and tried to slaughter the

came and went, and then, it was time for the second one, and

that resembled a giant walking skeleton, its bones green and as tough as granite, and then a swarm of monstrous ants that

Elyas had healed the most terrible wounds, but the rest remained, not worthy of having precious soul essence wasted

fight for his survival. Everything else disappeared… the only thing that remained was battle, blood, and

And fear.

that wasn't

the floor of the arena, the

spectators, and the weathered

'Where are you… where...'

life. While fighting against a familiar foe — a giant worm-like creature that possessed a seemingly endless reserve of vitality — Suny had tripped on the uneven

who fearlessly jumped forward and pulled the attention of the terrible abomination to himself, he would

damage continuously dealt to it by the Cruel Sight. Today, however, he had no deadly Memory to help him… only his claws, his

giant abomination to shreds. Only when its body was torn apart completely did the worm stop regenerating new flesh and recovering from all the wounds, and

a hateful glance at the crowd chanting his name. Finally, he lowered his head and glared at the wide groove in the red stone of the arena that had almost cost him

some of the killing boxes, cutting through the floor of the colosseum like broad channels meant for the rivers of blood to flow through them. Usually, he took note of their placement in advance to avoid losing his footing at a dire moment, but today, with his attention split between the battles and