Shadow Slave

A few minutes later, the atmosphere in the great hall suddenly changed. The hum of voices grew quiet, and many of the guests shifted, turning to a particular spot. As Sunny watched, a tall figure appeared on a wide balcony above them.

The man was strong and severe, with a sharp face and even sharper, cold eyes. His black hair was touched by silver at the temples. He was wearing an elegant attire that somehow looked like a suit of impregnable armor despite being made of nothing but black fabric. His vermilion cloak moved slightly, as if touched by invisible wind.

As soon as the man appeared, Sunny felt a considerable pressure descending on the hall. The dignified stranger radiated so much power and authority that it was hard not to admire him… or fear him. He was a Saint, without a doubt.

What was more, his features looked slightly like that of Mordret and Morgan. For a moment, Sunny thought that he was looking at Anvil of Valor himself… but no, that could not be. Although the familial likeness was there, it was not too pronounced. The mythical Sovereign was also not supposed to be able to enter the waking world easily, let alone openly show himself in public.

That would just go against everything that the Sovereigns did to remain in the shadows.

'This… must be Saint Madoc of Valor, also known as Whispering Blade.'

Saint Madoc was one of Anvil's siblings and the nominal leader of the great clan Valor. Of course, Sunny knew who truly called the shots… but the status of this powerful man was by no means for show. Whispering Blade was a legendary warrior and one of humanity's most formidable champions in his own right.

As the guests quieted down, Saint Madoc looked at them from above with his steely blue eyes, and then smiled slightly. Instantly, the pressure receded, making the mundane humans in the crowd sigh with relief.

Morgan's uncle spoke, his strong voice easily reaching into every corner of the great hall:

and pleasure to welcome you all under our roof once again.

silence settled over the hall. Every year brought a lot of death to Awakened. Even Masters were not spared from that fate...

happened, the absence of Saint Cormac was clearly felt by many. Transcendents were so exceedingly rare that

turned somber, Whispering Blade's smile suddenly widened, dispelling the

had fallen in battle. With champions like these, our world has nothing to fear! Despite it all, we persevere. But more than that… we rise. Nothing can stop our

the guests, and

am not one for long speeches. To be honest… this one was actually written by my

of polite chuckles spread through the

is not a day for sorrow. Today is a day for joy. And so… let

hall was cleared, and the musicians started to play a magnificent and emotional composition. Whispering Blade danced the first dance himself, accompanied

other pairs

dance with a bit of interest. He had not known what to really expect from this ball, but to his relief, it was nothing like the awkward and almost comical

and elaborate in their movements. Both partners had to move in synchronicity to not disturb the flow of the dance, following the music with surprising skill. The gracefulness of their

literal dance… however, it was derived from one. In fact, every battle style had something

to quickly learn the basics from just observing those who were better versed in it. He could have even

Of course, he didn't.

customary for men to invite the women to dance. As he watched, many handsome

a few burning gazes landed on Nephis, but were quickly doused by her cold, unapproachable expression. Fortunately or unfortunately, the other members of the cohort were caught in the cone of silence that surrounded her, so