In front of Sunless stretched a plaza choked with statues—countless stone knights standing in frozen ranks, each one carved in a different shape and size. These weren't ornamental guardians; they were the living sentinels of the square, known for their fierce territorial instincts and grim efficiency. That's why Sunless was observing them from the precarious perch of a three-story rooftop, cloaked in shadow and still as death.
Despite their immobile silence, the knights were no joke. As far as the Nightmare Creatures of the cursed city went, they might not have been the largest or strongest, but they were easily among the most dangerous. Their strange, rune-etched bodies were incredibly dense and durable—more like siege engines sculpted into humanoid form than living beings. Even powerful blows glanced off their armored hides.
But it wasn't just their toughness that made them lethal. These stone warriors were tactical, disciplined, eerily intelligent. They fought like a single mind split across dozens of bodies—synchronized, relentless, and deadly. They used weapons with terrifying precision, adapted their strategies mid-battle, and worked together to bring down creatures far more powerful than themselves. Many monsters had learned too late that brute strength meant little against perfect coordination and ruthless efficiency.
Effie had been crystal clear: don't mess with the knights.
Even though they weren't technically Fallen, even though their Soul Cores weren't ranked particularly high, these revenants were dangerous enough to make her wary—and Effie wasn't the type to spook easily.
But Effie wasn't him.
And Effie didn't have an Awakened Terror Echo leashed to her soul.
The manifestation process of the Soul-Devouring Tree had been going on for five minutes now. Sunless could see it unfolding above the square, high in the lightless sky. Faint, spectral lines shimmered and twisted, forming the massive silhouette of the tree as it took shape. Its roots stretched impossibly wide, threading through the air like ghostly serpents; its colossal trunk rose like a monument to forgotten gods, and its vast, shadowed canopy concealed those cursed fruits—sweet, addictive, and utterly poisonous to the soul.
Below, the knights remained oblivious. The parasite hadn't fully crossed into the physical realm yet, and without a tangible presence, it went unnoticed by the stone guardians.
But that veil wouldn't last much longer.
As the Echo's manifestation neared completion, the shift was instantaneous. First came a whisper of wind, so faint it barely stirred the dust. Then, in the space of three seconds, the displaced air surged into a full-blown gale. Hurricane-force winds howled across the rooftop, forcing Sunless to brace himself against the pull. He anchored his body using the [Midnight Shard], every muscle tense as the roaring wind threatened to fling him into the abyss.
The stone knights reacted immediately. Their formation changed with mechanical speed. Archers raised their bows and loosed volleys into the sky. Spearmen hurled their weapons in elegant arcs. Melee fighters leapt onto elevated platforms, attempting to reach the parasitic Echo now taking shape above them.
But their efforts were doomed from the start.
Not because the Soul-Devourer had retaliated—it still hadn't fully formed—but because the laws of physics refused to cooperate. None of them possessed the raw strength to push through the violent gusts. Their projectiles were swept away, their leaps arrested midair.
And then came gravity.
The massive tree, now corporeal, lost its ghostly buoyancy and plummeted toward the plaza. Dozens of tons of ancient wood and parasitic malice accelerated downward in a blur of mass and momentum.
It struck like the wrath of a god.
First came the sound—a deafening, all-consuming roar that made thunder seem like a whisper. Then the shockwave—earth buckling, stone rupturing, fragments of debris hurled like shrapnel in every direction. A choking cloud of dust engulfed the square, swallowing buildings and shadows alike.
And then came the voice of the Spell, cold and triumphant:
[You have slain an Awakened monster, Stone Cleric.]
[Your shadow grows stronger.]
[You have slain an Awakened monster, Stone Archer.]
[Your shadow grows stronger.]
[You have slain an Awakened monster, Stone Saint.]
[Your shadow grows stronger.]
The notifications blurred together as fresh agony exploded through Sunless's body. Pain bloomed in his chest like a second heart. He staggered, the strength drained from his limbs, and crumpled to his knees.
The voice returned—quieter now, but strangely solemn, almost reverent, echoing in the space between soul and flesh:
[Your shadow is overflowing with power.]
He gritted his teeth, trying to steel himself for what was coming.
[Your shadow is taking shape.]
Then came the breaking point.
A searing heat surged through him, centered deep within his soul, burning through his veins like liquid fire. His back arched, a soundless scream tearing through his throat, lost to the wind. He felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside—soul unraveling, memory splintering, identity shattering.
Something was clawing its way out of him.
He couldn't fight it. Couldn't stop it. All he could do was survive it.
The world shrank to pain, then nothing.
And through it all, the Spell whispered one final truth:
[...Your shadow is complete.]
He had gained his second Shadow Core.
No longer a mere human, but a Monster.
Sleep took him, as he lay in the embrace of the Soul devourer, he dreamed of a slave dancing for her god.
---
For a week, he had been gone.
Seven long days. No footsteps tracing a careful path near hers, no dry, clipped voice making its quiet observations. Just silence—and in its place, a knot of worry and guilt that sat heavy behind her ribs, impossible to untangle. She hadn't needed eyes to feel the absence of him, like a familiar rhythm cut short in a song.
But then... her Sunny had returned.
Not with fanfare, not with apology—just the calm certainty of someone who had done what he said he would. Task fulfilled, odds assessed. He had faced the Hosts and judged their willingness to help subjugate the Gate. He had returned with word from the Bright Lord himself—permission to act in the Dark City without fear of retaliation. He had uncovered the truth of the Shards, their purpose in challenging the Crimson Tower.
He had done all of it, just as he said. He always did.
And more than anything, he had given his Memories.
She could still feel the echo in her soul see—his truth made tangible, a gift offered freely. He didn't speak his devotion, not really. But she felt it. And that was more than enough.
It was enough for her to piece together her visions—threads of light and feeling woven into meaning. She'd asked for his attention, and Nephis's too, quiet but insistent, and told them of the Slayers' Monument. Of the haunted skull she had seen in her sightless dreams, where ghostly specters drifted in sorrow. Of a brilliant star, a huntress mighty and radiant, and a shadow sly and watchful beside her.
She told them how they searched for Moonlight.
And though she could not see the sun, she'd felt its weight and placement in the vision—northward. That was where they would find it. That was her gift.
It hadn't been difficult to recognize them in her dream. The radiant huntress, the clever shadow, the star that burned bright and warm. The hard part had been convincing Effie to come with them. The older girl still saw them as soft, untested. Fragile.
So Nephis had challenged one of the Hosts, severed his head, and laid it at Effie's feet like an offering. She'd fed the slum's denizens, strengthened them with her power and resolve. That was her gift—strength. Proof.
They had been planning their journey to the skull when Cassie's shadow had vanished again.
She felt it the way others might feel a sudden drop in air pressure, a change in temperature. A pulling at the threads of her soul. And Neph had seen what she couldn't—the towering, grotesque form of the soul-devouring tree rising above the Dark City. For a terrible heartbeat, she'd thought it had followed them somehow, that the tree itself had clawed its way out of the Forgotten Shore in pursuit.
But it wasn't real. Not truly. It was an Echo.
Of course it was. Of course it was *his*.
It could only be his.
But none of them could approach it. Not even Nephis. They didn't dare. The tree was ancient, bewitching, a Terror. It called to something primal in them all—fear, awe, revulsion. Even without her eyes, she'd felt it, like invisible roots twisting beneath her skin.
And then, just like that, it was gone. No tremor in the earth, no cry in the wind—just silence once again.
Until he returned.
Her Sunless.
He said nothing of what had happened. He rarely did. But there was something different in the air around him now—denser, more potent. His shadow was deeper, sharper. Stronger.
He had gone and done the impossible again, like it was just another day.
And he'd come back to her. Just like he always did.