shadow slave, Echoes of the forgotten

Fyi, this is after a few hours after the ball started, a disaster happened and read for the rest

Sunny groaned quietly, the sound barely escaping his blood-flecked lips as his breathing came in hoarse, ragged gasps that sent daggers of pain through his chest. His once-pristine armor, now a testament to the ferocity of battle, lay battered and bruised against his broken form, dark rivulets of blood seeping through the countless gaps and dents in the though stone like material.

The presence of his own blood surprised him, though as his bleary eyes took in the apocalyptic landscape around him, he supposed he should count himself fortunate.

The battlefield stretched endlessly in every direction, a grotesque tapestry of broken bodies and shattered dreams – hundreds of warriors who would never rise again, their armor glinting dully under the somber sky.

His lungs felt like they were filled with molten lead, each breath a desperate struggle that sent fresh waves of agony through his severely damaged chest. He could feel the jagged edges of his broken ribs shifting with every shallow breath, but worst of all was his hand – or what remained of it.

The limb hung by mere threads of sinew and flesh, cut with such immaculate precision.

If not for his extraordinarily sharp senses and the split-second decision that had saved him, he would have lost far more than just an arm. Even now, he could still feel the ghostly whisper of the blade that had come so close to ending his life entirely.

Attempting to summon even the smallest memory proved futile – his essence, that vital force that had always flowed through him like an endless river, was completely exhausted.

This, more than anything else, sent a chill of genuine fear down his spine. Even with five cores, his power had been drained to nothing, leaving him as vulnerable as a newborn in this field of death.

Were it not for this last remnant of his strength, he would have already joined the tens of thousands of fallen warriors whose bodies carpeted the ground around him, their vacant eyes staring accusingly at the indifferent heavens.

Through his diminished senses, he detected two saints approaching – powerful beings whose very presence made the air heavy with potential violence. They had undoubtedly sensed his weakened state, like predators scenting wounded prey, but running was not an option. His body, broken and battered as it was, would never carry him to safety.

Left with no alternatives, he reached out to his last remaining allies – the two saints he could still call his own: Saint and Nightmare, beings of shadow and power that had stood by him through countless battles.

Serpent, his faithful companion, was already working tirelessly to recover what it could of Sunny's depleted essence, its efforts evident in the faint stirring of power within him. But even this assistance wasn't enough – he would need time to recover, time that his enemies seemed unwilling to grant him.

The shadows rose silently from the darkness near the approaching saints, an extension of Sunny's will made manifest. Surprisingly, his enemies remained oblivious to the danger lurking in their own shadows. Saint, ever opportunistic, seized this advantage without hesitation. She launched herself from the darkness like a bolt of midnight lightning, her razor-sharp sword describing a perfect arc toward the nearest saint's exposed neck.

What happened next occurred so swiftly that time itself seemed to skip a beat – one moment the saint stood tall and proud, the next, his head was rolling across the blood-soaked ground, his face still frozen in an expression of shocked surprise.

Saint had killed a saint – a feat that stunned even Sunny, who hadn't had time to augment her abilities for the confrontation. But his amazement was short-lived as the second saint, moving with the liquid grace of a master warrior, brought his gleaming blade down toward Saint with deadly intent.

It was then that Nightmare joined the fray.

The creature was a thing of primal terror, its adamantine hooves and horns glinting with an otherworldly sheen as it charged forward. Its teeth, sharp and somehow wrong in their placement, completed the image of a being pulled straight from humanity's darkest fears.

The second saint fell as quickly as the first, his considerable power proving insufficient against the combined might of Sunny's guardians. Finally able to catch his breath, Sunny turned his attention to his cohort, reaching out through the shadows he had gifted to each member he could find.

His first thought was of Nephis, and to his relief, she appeared relatively unscathed. Though exhaustion was evident in every line of her body, her wounds had been healed, and she stood alone in an area conspicuously devoid of living enemies.

The revelation didn't surprise him: she had killed them all.

Kai had taken up position in one of the surviving towers of the valor stronghold, his body marked with shallow cuts that had penetrated both his armor and flesh.

From his vantage point, he continued to loose arrows at any target vulnerable enough to fall to his ranged attacks, each shot finding its mark with unerring accuracy.

Effie's situation was considerably more dire. She found herself surrounded by several opponents – masters, by the look of them – though they seemed disoriented, their movements sluggish and uncoordinated like most of the survivors of whatever catastrophe had befallen this place, even the two saints Sunny fought just a minute ago.

She wielded her spear with deadly efficiency, the weapon becoming an extension of her will as she drove it through the skull of another distracted opponent.

Sunny summoned Saint to assist her. Recognition dawned quickly, however, and Effie's resulting smile sent an uncomfortable shiver down Sunny's spine – not for the first time, he noted. Despite Effie's broken hand, which hung at an angle that demanded immediate medical attention, the pair worked together with brutal efficiency, though not quite as smoothly as they might have under better circumstances.

The group of masters, though few in number, proved surprisingly resilient. It took Effie and Saint several minutes of concentrated effort to dispatch them all, each victory hard-won and costly.

Cassie's whereabouts remained a mystery to Sunny. He had failed to notice initially, but she had vanished just before everything had descended into chaos. Her survival remained uncertain, though Sunny found himself unable to muster much concern for her fate. She had always been a selfish individual, driven by goals that seemed incomprehensible to most – though perhaps for good reason.

Her stated mission to destroy fate itself struck Sunny as particularly ironic, given how tightly she herself seemed bound to its threads. Unlike him, she hadn't been enslaved or stripped of her freedom, yet she railed against destiny with single-minded determination. She had glimpsed a future she was desperate to change, though its exact nature remained a mystery to Sunny. All he knew was that it promised pain and hardship in abundance.

The future he had once known, the path he had thought lay before them, had vanished like morning mist, its loss confirmed by the night's devastating events.

The massive gate, a structure that seemed to defy physical laws as it stretched from the ground into the infinite sky above, called to him once more with its siren song of power and destiny.

Sunny could only respond with another pain-filled groan, his broken body a testament to the price of answering such calls.

Sunny stared at his mangled arm, another groan of pain escaping through clenched teeth – this one deeper, more primal than the last. Through the haze of agony, a spark of inspiration flickered in his mind, surprising him with its clarity despite his deteriorating condition.

With concentrated effort, he redirected the majority of his consciousness toward the Shadow that served as Nephis's silent guardian. The Shadow, responding to his will, raised its ethereal hand in greeting. Confusion flickered across Nephis's face before understanding dawned in her eyes, quick comprehension replacing initial bewilderment.

Through the Shadow's guidance, Nephis began making her way toward him. The Shadow chose its path carefully, weaving through the safest routes in the battlefield's chaos. Each minute of the dozen it took felt like an eternity to Sunny, his consciousness split between maintaining the Shadow's guidance and managing his own pain.

When she finally found him, the sight struck her like a physical blow. Her heart plummeted, face draining of color as she took in his broken form. Without hesitation, she channeled her power, and pure white flames erupted around Sunny's body. The ethereal fire danced across his wounds, knitting flesh back together, mending broken bones, and miraculously reattaching his nearly-severed arm.

Even as Nephis's healing flames worked their magic, Sunny's heightened senses detected an approaching threat. With barely a thought, he summoned Saint to intercept the danger. The shadow-warrior moved with deadly grace, and moments later, a notification whispered through his consciousness:

[You have slain a great monster, puppet of the puppetear.]

[Your shadow grows stronger]

Sunny's expression shifted from pain to surprise, but before he could fully process the first message, another followed:

[You have received a memory]

A genuine smile spread across his face at the unexpected gift, but before he could explore this new memory, he realized Nephis's healing was complete. He knew what would come next, yet still found himself unprepared.

Nephis crashed into him with an embrace that spoke volumes more than words ever could. It wasn't the casual embrace shared between comrades-in-arms, but something far more intimate – though neither of them, with their limited experience in matters of the heart, fully understood the implications. She held him tighter, burying her face against the side of his neck, her breath warm against his newly-healed skin.

Sunny returned the embrace, his smile softening as he spoke words heavy with meaning: "Thank you, and I'm sorry."

Her only response was a slight nod, her face still hidden against him. Sunny didn't press for more, finding joy enough in this rare display of emotion from her. When she finally pulled away, she settled beside him, maintaining contact through their joined hands. Though she tried to hide evidence of her tears, the silvery tracks on her cheeks caught the dim light.

She would glance at him periodically, each look lingering a little longer than the last, while Sunny's smile remained constant, warm and reassuring. When she finally spoke, her voice came as a surprise, pulling him from his thoughts.

"So, what's the plan?"

The question caught him off guard, and he found himself studying her face – noting the slight flush of her cheeks, the questioning look in her eyes. His response came naturally, his tone carrying an undercurrent of affection he couldn't – and didn't want to – disguise.

"We fight, then we celebrate."

The corners of her mouth twitched upward despite her attempt to maintain composure. The simplicity of his statement bordered on amusing, given the monumental nature of their task. Reality painted a far grimmer picture: their cohort appeared to be among the few remaining who hadn't succumbed to madness. The saints were either trapped in the dream realm or here, their minds twisted by the gate guardian's corrupt influence.

Valor lay in ruins, its once-proud stronghold reduced to rubble when the gate materialized at its heart, sending deadly debris in all directions. The initial destruction claimed countless lives, but worse followed as great creatures poured through the dimensional tear like a tide of nightmares.

The guardian itself appeared to be a young Great tyrant, yet commanded an army of roughly a thousand minions. The city had gone into lockdown, with civilians fleeing in panic wherever possible.

The situation regarding the sovereigns remained unclear – Song likely knew of the crisis but wrestled with the decision to reveal herself, while Anvil remained uninformed of the current situation.

The chances of anyone reaching the dream realm now, save for a powerful saint or Morgan, were slim. Even then, the risk of being cast into unknown corners of that vast dreamscape was nearly certain.

Sunny's shadow sense alerted him to approaching footsteps, and beside him, Nephis tensed at the sound. He stayed her reaction with a gentle touch, rising to his feet to greet the newcomers: Effie, Kai, and unexpectedly, Jet. The latter's appearance and injuries suggested she'd been involved in evacuation efforts.

Nephis rose to stand beside him, and Effie's knowing look indicated she understood they'd been together. Fortunately, Nephis's tell-tale red eyes had faded, leaving her looking merely exhausted like the rest of them.

Nephis's healing flames soon encompassed the three masters, erasing their injuries. After expressing her gratitude, Jet fixed Sunny with an intent stare, though her question was ostensibly directed to the group.

"So, do you guys know anything about the guardian. And is it even possible to kill it?"

Sunny's sigh carried the weight of their situation as he responded, his voice betraying his exhaustion: "Well, there is a Great tyrant that came out from that gate, there is about 900 Great abominations left. As well as some human saints, masters, awakened, and mundane people. Most likely not."

The trio absorbed the shocking information with admirable composure, Jet recovering first, followed by Effie and Kai. A silent exchange passed between Effie and Kai, ending with his reassuring nod.

"So then, what do we do?"

"Well, we either fight, or escape and doom humanity."

Sunny's voice rang with unwavering determination, devoid of fear. He summoned a memory, materializing as a magnificent spear roughly three meters in length, its slim diameter belying its strength. The material it was crafted from seemed to defy normal classification.

Another of his Shadows emerged from behind them – the same one that had aided Effie earlier, though she took a moment to recognize it. This Shadow wore armor of onyx-like material that seemed to absorb light itself, radiating an aura of infinite darkness.

Sunny presented the graceful Shadow with the spear, simultaneously channeling all his remaining Shadows into her, multiplying her power fivefold. She tested the weapon's weight with practiced ease before turning toward the gate and its guardian. Before Sunny could provide instruction, she had already launched her attack.

The throw produced a thunderous crack that forced the cohort to step backward. The Shadows managed to merge with the spear at the last moment, maximizing its destructive potential.

This siege souvenir represented a new version of Sunny's anti-powerful creature weaponry, though he remained uncertain of its effectiveness against a Great tyrant, especially given its single-use nature despite the extensive effort put into its creation.

Seconds later, the ground trembled violently as fragments flooded into Sunny's soul. The spell's whisper reached his ears:

[You have slain a Great tyrant, The Puppeteer.]

[Your shadow grows stronger]

[Your memory was destroyed]

Though he had hoped for news of a new memory, it seemed fortune had other plans. Especially after he realized the sheer amount of creatures coming towards them.