Shadow Slave

For the next several days, Sunny did nothing but sleep, rest, and practice weaving. His two new wooden fingers were able to channel essence, which showed just how incredible Noctis was at his craft. However, they could not touch the ethereal strings. It seemed that only Sunny's own flesh and bone were capable of that.

He was already accustomed to manipulating the shadow strings without those fingers, though, so the task had not grown much harder. There was also the long needle that shone with faint golden radiance to help him along. In those several days, Sunny made a bit of progress in his attempts to copy the simplest of enchantments.

...He also successfully destroyed several more Memories, which really stung his newly repaired hearts.

'Ah, curses…'

Sunny stared at the rain of disappearing sparks that had been an enchanted buckler just a few moments ago and sighed. Another failure, another lost Memory. He was going through his collection of them way too fast… at that point, he was starting to wonder if there was a better use for it.

Saint's shadow fragment counter was still at [59/200], and now, he had another Shadow to feed. Nightmare also demanded his fair share of resources to reach the next Rank, and his appetite was even steeper. Currently, the dark courser was at [1/300], and that single fragment came from a Memory Sunny had fed him to check if the horse also consumed them.

The only silver lining was that Nightmare was still of the Awakened Rank, and as such, gained more sustenance from weaker Memories. Getting him to three hundred was going to require about the same amount as what Saint needed to get to two.

…That was another reason why Sunny wanted to master at least the very foundation of weaving. If he could create even the simplest Memories himself, he would effectively gain the ability to convert soul shards into shadow fragments, as far as Saint and Nightmare were concerned. Probably.

He already knew enough to try, actually, and only lacked a few shards to experiment. However, the ability to copy and modify enchantments seemed even more alluring. Just imagining the utility of such a skill made him tremble with excitement.

But enough was enough! He could not endure the heartbreaking sorrow of losing another Memory today. With each of them he destroyed, Sunny could practically see potential credits disappearing from his theoretical bank account.

Shaking his head dejectedly, he returned the needle into the maw of the Covetous Coffer, dismissed the little box, and headed toward the door of his room.

It was time for some fresh air.

Finding his way to the familiar corner of the garden, Sunny noticed the motionless figure of the bandaged cripple and ignored him, then sat down on the grass some distance away. The two of them were perfectly content pretending that the other didn't exist. After that first conversation, neither uttered a single word… which was a beautiful thing.

'If only all humans were that reticent…'

The cripple never bothered him, and so, Sunny liked him a lot. They had a perfect understanding.

Closing his eyes, Sunny meditated for a while, but then grew bored. He still had a few hours to kill before dinner, and there was nothing to do. Well, that was not a problem… really, there always was a mountain of things he had wanted, but never found time to address. For example, he was very curious to study the spellweave of the Shadow Lantern… it was a Divine Memory, after all.

thought of staring at the inhuman complexity of weaves again made his mood grow foul, so Sunny decided to

What else was there?

of it… he had not practiced archery for a long time now. His skill in that regard was still very far from

weaved itself from scarlet sparks, which were the same color as its grip and string, as well as the small brand in the shape of a straight sword piercing straight through an avil that was burned into its

the grey stone of one of the giant menhirs that loomed some distance away. Surely, the ancient stone pillar that had withstood a thousand years in perfect condition, and was going to withstand thousands

have to produce a new menhir if he destroyed one… or several… the bastard owed

sigh, he raised the bow, placed his fingers on the string, and strained his muscles

the help of the shadows, just to draw the string… no mundane human would have ever been able do that, and even among the Awakened,

that, every arrow sent flying by the black bow

a ghostly shade into a sharp arrow. The other enchantment of Morgan's Warbow, [Soul Arrows], allowed it to attune to the soul of the wielder and create arrows that shared its

out of a sharp piece of obsidian. This was a shadow arrow, which flew swiftly and didn't produce

kind of arrow, too, due to his high divine affinity. Those arrows were lustrous and seemed to be forged out of pale gold, their broadheads perfect for slicing flesh and causing terrible wounds. There was

that didn't

took aim, and jerked his fingers away from the arrow. The string hit the inner side of Sunny's forearm, and the black arrow

the cripple turned his head

He had aimed at a tiny

forearm, which now had a deep cut, Sunny clicked

piece of cloth, summoned a second arrow, and repeated the process, this time almost managing to miss the

'Damnation!'

accuracy had only reduced in the past months. How had he even managed to

it all

moments, then turned around at stared at the cripple without any amusement in his frightening black eyes. Perhaps he was hasty to commend the man for his quiet and

Sunny thought with some

are an

for a while, then

used to be a captain in the

and then smiled

led a hundred brave warriors into battle, for the glory of Lord Sevirax

silent,