Shadow Slave

Sunny did not show any outward reaction — the Lord of Shadows was not someone who would be agitated by a mere mention of the Princess of War, after all.

Internally, though, he was troubled.

«Morgan…»

His relationship with Morgan of Valor was not very deep, but it was rather impactful. From their first meeting in the arena of the Dream Tournament, to his brief stint as her sparring partner, to the hellish journey across the Nightmare Desert… he couldn't say that he hated her a lot, but he also couldn't say that there was any sympathy between them.

First and foremost, Morgan represented the Great Clans in his mind. Not only their callousness, but also their dread and might. As such, he could never quite perceive her as an individual… which was, perhaps, a little unfair, but also understandable.

There had been a time when Morgan represented the pinnacle of power in his mind…

That time was long gone.

By now, Sunny was confident that he was superior to her in all but a few aspects.

Morgan did possess a diabolical talent for warfare and strategy… the cruel stratagem she had pulled off in Antarctica would have decimated the forces of Song, costing the Queen of Worms several of her most cherished daughters and the chance to claim the Tomb of Ariel — if not for the sudden arrival of the Nightmare Gates, of course.

And that was despite Mordret scheming to ruin Varor behind the scenes.

However, that was not what troubled Sunny. What troubled him was that he did not know the current Morgan at all.

The old Morgan was dangerous, but familiar, like a sharp sword. The new Morgan was a stranger. There were rumors that she had changed a lot after suffering a defeat at the hands of her brother, and the mystery surrounding her Third Nightmare did not help.

Someone cunning and unfamiliar was the exact kind of person he would have preferred to avoid.

However, there was no avoiding her now.

Sighing quietly, Sunny followed Nephis into a lavish building.

that the elders of Clan Valor were being considerate today. They had not invited him to the

onyx armor, looked more than a little out of place when a dapper maître d' led them to a private booth on the lowest underground

as

and acted as if it was the restaurant

way of

was worthy of being called a work of art, with tasteful

rather, it would have been tranquil if not for the dangerous presence of the woman who sat

some things never change,

a flawlessly tailored business suit, which was entirely black — just like the fashionable leather gloves she wore on her hands. Her raven-black hair only made

more powerful and cold than it had been in the past. The luxurious chamber was permeated by a sense of lethal sharpness,

he could not quite put into words. Morgan seemed… different, somehow. Whether it was her sharp

just matured… perhaps

case, Sunny found it much harder to only perceive Morgan as an extension of

is up with

at her silently, she put down the

perfectly pleasant, but looked cold and infinitely sharp despite

are here, sister.

Nephis simply nodded.

Princess Morgan of Valor. Sister, this is Saint

mask, Sunny studied them

white, and the other in black, they looked as if someone had consciously attempted to create two exquisite beauties who were the exact

at

about you, Lord of Shadows. It is a pleasure to

smile widened a

for Nephis. Once she was seated, he

mine, Lady Morgan. I've heard a

She raised an eyebrow.

Only good