Shadow Slave

1512 Chaos and Mayhem

Somewhere far away, Mordret was in a similar situation. Of course, he did not possess the physical strength, speed, and resilience of Changing Star of the Immortal Flame clan… however, he did possess his own arsenal of tricks.

'I wonder…'

He had escaped into a section of the city where the ground had been broken by some titanic blow. Shallow water covered the cracked cobblestones, with ruined buildings rising from it like islands. The twilight sky reflected in the water, turning it into a beautiful painting of soft colors.

Mordret was using the reflections to stay ahead of his pursuers.

Countless human figures were surrounding him, their weapons hungry for his blood.

'If I try to possess one of them, what would happen?'

Usually, he would have to bet his life against the soul of his victim, armed only with their reflected power. But these warriors had no souls — they had long been destroyed by Soul Stealer… that impostor. So, would Mordret have to battle against the soul of the Defiled Saint? Or the reflection of the dead victim's soul? Whose power would he be able to reflect?

He was both curious and reluctant to find out.

'Not just yet, at least.'

Dodging a swift sword, Mordret pierced the attacker's throat, dodged another strike, and jumped back. A subtle frown appeared on his face.

'Inconvenient…'

The worst part about slaughtering these hollow vessels was that they were just that — vessels. There were no souls inside the bodies of the taken warriors, and so, he was not growing stronger from killing them. Otherwise, Mordret would have been able to slowly restore his Monster Core… maybe even the Demon Core, if he was diligent and lucky.

With those, he could create a new Reflection or two. Without them, things were proving difficult.

He would have preferred slaughtering actual people, instead.

'What was it that Sunless likes to say?'

He emotionlessly cut down a young woman wearing an archaic garment and sighed.

'Damnation?'

He couldn't do much against them with one hand… all Mordret could do was flee. Stepping into the reflected sky, he appeared a few hundred meters away, in the middle

the impostor has a

Soul Stealer taken

as he finished off a lumbering monstrosity. Finally, he felt

had slain plenty of Nightmare Creatures that way himself. So, it had to be because it was

Why?

He lingered suddenly.

'Don't tell me…'

by the Defilement during the soul battle, all but dooming them

Soul Stealer. Becoming Defiled? Mordret wanted none of that. Because it ran contrary to his goals, of

was mighty. Sure, he had reached the level of power that Mordret struggled to fathom. However, he was

had killed showed a tenth of his skill with the sword. Gone were his cunning, his foresight, his resolve…

had rotted Soul Stealer's mind, turning him into a madman. And not even a

that moment, his sword failed to penetrate the carapace of another Nightmare Creature. He had killed a few already, using the rest

'Ah…'

he pulled a

warrior's eyes ignited with sinister intelligence. A

Warren, and wielding his Aspect, he dove under the abomination's body

dozen more… and I'll become

had plenty more to choose from, some of which he

what was the

continued to coldly kill the Defiled, his

if he killed them? So what if he regained a few

saw no way to survive, let alone win. Even his usual path of escape was cut off, since Soul Stealer was

we all going to die here, in this godforsaken

Poetic, even. To die by his own

It

might have had others fooled, but he knew that the blind witch was not as simple as she looked. Someone like her had to have something planned, without a doubt… she wouldn't

was easy to perceive through divination… how else would that monster have escaped Torment's gaze and rebelled against the Dread

'Ah… I don't know.'