Shadow Slave

1022 The Fall of Falcon Scott (40)

On the way back, Sunny couldn't help but retreat inside himself. He did not know what was happening on the surface — whether the port fortress still stood, whether the Devouring Cloud had breached the walls of the city. The very idea of a world outside of the cold, dark, muted, oppressive abyss of the ocean seemed strange and distant.

Chances were, he would have to fight again as soon as Bloodwave delivered them under the walls of Falcon Scott.

However, Sunny was too tired, both physically and mentally, to care. He just wanted to forget about everything and rest, at least for a short while.

Luckily, the killer whale seemed to be moving much slower as they ascended from the depths. That, most likely, was done for the benefit of Sunny and Naeve — even though they were Masters, they were still fundamentally humans. Neither would have died from the decompression sickness, but it could do a lot of damage to their already strained and battered bodies.

Actually, Sunny was not sure if he was even susceptible to the bends, considering how strange and tenacious his blood was. However, he welcomed the short moment of respite.

Somber and unchanging, the dark ocean remained the same as they retreated from its cold depths. The only difference Sunny could feel was the slow, gradual lessening of the pressure that weighed on him like a slab of stone. With each minute, his body seemed to become a little lighter, and breathing was a little easier.

He closed his eyes, allowing the cold currents to carry him.

'...Right. There was a Memory. I should... probably... study it before we return to the battlefield.'

Sunny was in no shape to fight, but he might have no choice but to join the battle soon. He had to use any advantage there.

He summoned the runes and watched as they shimmered in the darkness, slowly forming into coherent shapes. Before turning his attention to the Memories, he briefly checked the list of Shadows. Both Saint and Nightmare seemed to be alive. Relieved, Sunny let out a mental sigh and looked up.

A new set of runes appeared at the end of the list of his Memories.

Memory: [Shroud of Graceless Dusk].

He lingered for a moment.

'Huh.'

his arsenal named after a burial garb. Was the Spell trying to

to care, Sunny

Memory Rank: Transcendent.

Memory Tier: VI.

Memory Type: armor.

eyes again,

he had ever received after slaying an enemy... of course, it was, since Sybil of the Fallen Grace was the strongest enemy he had ever slain. There was the Spawn of the Vile Thieving Bird, as well, but Sunny did not really consider that victory a true, honestly earned

be an extremely potent Memory. And it was

'Lucky.'

eyes and

of divine grace. Many mysteries were known to them, and so were many truths. There was one being, though, who knew much more — the graceless caitiff, Demon of Dread. He knew every truth there was, because he knew everyone's

and guided their people on a long and arduous journey. They led them far away, across the lands consumed by

the Tomb

voices of the gods grew silent one after another, leaving behind

Sunny frowned.

'That guy again...'

of Nightmares had originated — and the black pyramid hidden within — had something to do with Ariel, the Demon of Dread. Was the pyramid really his tomb, then? How would a daemon die, and who would build him

flowed back in time have to do with any of that? Its estuary was mentioned in the description of the Stifled Scream as a

sybils had been, apparently, some sort of oracles that received revelations from the gods. Once the gods died, those revelations obviously stopped. The timing didn't really

'Mysterious...'

questions and turned his attention to the enchantments of the Graceless

of Mind],

of Spirit], [Blessing of

[Blessing of Dusk].