Shadow Slave

Across the city to the south, the majority of the First Army forces were fighting the Devouring Cloud. Even directionless, the gluttonous swarm still posed an existential threat to Falcon Scott — the sky was torn asunder by fire and explosions, countless brood beasts melting in that inferno as they threw themselves against the siege capital's defenses.

Somewhere further south, far away, Sky Tide was once again engaged in a dreadful battle against the Corrupted Titan, Winter Beast.

And yet, here, on the shore of the dark ocean, a new threat appeared… one that was perhaps no less dangerous than the Devouring Cloud.

Worst of all, no one except for two Masters and a handful of disparate soldiers seemed to be aware of it.

…Or so Sunny had thought.

The instant the hollow horde surged forward, the port fortress finally came alive. Numerous turrets turned their barrels, unleashing an onslaught of bullets at the thralls of the Terror of the Depths. Bright beams of light once again shone on the shore, and several rail guns thundered, cutting rifts through the horde. Arrows and magical projectiles fell down like rain.

The thralls had turned out to be too potent to be obliterated by the sudden assault, but they did slow down for a moment.

'Finally, some luck…'

Sunny prepared to launch himself into the mass of enemies, but Dale suddenly pulled him back.

"What… the hell… are you doing?"

The stalwart Master glanced at him calmly, then shook his head.

"There's no time for that. The real foe is the Terror, not its puppets. You need to go… find Bloodwave, or someone from the House of Night at least. They need to find the creature and destroy it, before it's too late."

Sunny blinked.

"What about you?"

advancing horde, lingered for a

and make sure that they do not

of words left unsaid, but they both understood the implication. Dale was best at stationary defense, while Sunny was swift and elusive. Their roles were decided for them by that

Master took a step forward, raising his shield and

"Go, Sunless. Don't linger."

at the figure of Verne, who was walking steadily through

lunging at Dale, hollow eyes shining with the reflected

it, damn it,

reached the wall of the port fortress and scaled it, emerging from the shadows on the battlements. Here, a chaotic flurry

large courtyard below. They had come

proceed past the citadel toward the pier, and from there to the battleships, if need be. As Sunny ran, he

got lucky sooner than

intervals, each serving as a bunker. As he passed through one of these bunkers, observing the complicated machinery of the rail gun housed within, he noticed a familiar figure standing near a targeting interface. Tall, handsome, with black hair

"Naeve!"

toward the Nightwalker, who looked up from the terminal with a surprised

"Sunless? What are you…"

a

story. Are you free from the hex? Can you see the

around

all of you able to see

lingered for a

the… hex? As for the rest of the garrison, they don't see anything. But they also don't

froze for a moment, admiring the effective crudeness of

forward and jumped over the parapet of the battlement, disappearing into the cold

"Where's Bloodwave?"