No one spoke.
No one dared.
Sunny cast a glance across the hall.
The hunters. The Pathfinders. The Lieutenants.
Nephis, beside him. Then finally, Gunlaug.
"We need to make this fair," he said, voice calm. Measured.
His gaze flicked between Gunlaug's armored bulk and Nephis's silver Starlight Legion gear.
"A Transcendent Echo used as armor and weapon against Awakened memories?" He raised a brow. "Hardly sporting."
"That's right!" a voice called from the back—Effie, loud as ever.
Sunny smiled faintly.
With a flick of his hand, a tenebrific longsword formed from the shadows.
Smooth. Silent. Beautiful.
His control had grown. Shadows now bent easily, quickly, to his will.
He didn't just shape them—he tuned them.
This sword… he'd limited its strength. Held it back to match the rank of a Transcendent memory.
The fine details still slipped through his grasp at times, but the core of it? The soul of the thing? That was his to command.
By default, his shadows echoed the strength of a weak Supreme Memory. But imbued with intent, they sang at peak rank.
Maybe one day… he'd find a way to shadow enhancements into them too.
For now—
"There."
He offered the sword to Nephis.
She took it without a word.
Another shadow surged, sliding up her form like a living cloak before hardening into armor atop her own.
Sunny stepped back.
He didn't speak.
But he didn't have to.
Some moments demanded silence.
The duel had begun.
…
Gunlaug stood tall, golden helm catching the light like a crown of flame. His axe melted in his grip—elongating, widening—then solidified again, a cruel crescent of serrated light.
Nephis said nothing. Her eyes, pale as dawn, held no emotion.
She lunged.
Steel sang as her blade drove forward, precise, merciless.
Gunlaug raised his axe, caught the strike flat-on. A metallic shriek echoed through the hall as sparks burst outward. He staggered a step.
One.
The golden titan's presence dimmed.
Nephis flowed forward. No wasted movement. A step to the side—pivot, arc, cleave.
He ducked, barely. The edge of her sword tore through the edges of his shoulder guard. Liquid gold hissed and reformed, mending itself like bleeding metal.
He snarled.
Then countered.
The axe widened mid-swing, growing grotesque and heavy, aimed to split her from collarbone to hip.
Nephis turned with the blow, deflecting it with the flat of her blade. Her knees bent, legs sliding on the polished stone. The force shook her bones.
But she didn't fall.
Where previously she would have buckled under the pressure. Her newfound strength as a Terror resisted it.
She used it—letting his momentum drag him forward, exposing his side.
The sword flashed.
Gunlaug twisted, too slow.
A shallow cut bloomed across his ribs. The golden armor recoiled, liquid hissing, writhing.
She pressed forward. Slash. Parry. Riposte.
Each blow faster. Sharper.
Gunlaug's armor rippled and danced, reshaping between halberd, glaive, twin blades—adapting, struggling to match her rhythm.
Nephis never changed form. One sword. One path.
The training with a Sovereign who could clearly see through your style paid off.
Her breathing was steady. His grew ragged.
Then—he roared.
The axe exploded outward, shattering into golden tendrils that lashed like absurd serpents.
She stepped into the storm, not back.
One cut. Two.
Her blade sliced through a tendril—then another. She ducked under a third, rolled, and came up beneath him, sword rising like judgment.
Straight through his chest.
Gunlaug's armor tried to seal around it—but her sword flared with her Aspect, white and blinding, resisting the morphing grip.
A pulse of white flame erupted.
"You should have done better."
Her face was contorted under the pain of her flaw.
Yet her words were crystal clear.
"It was your duty as their leader."
Gunlaug staggered back again. Blood hit the floor as her sword pulled out. Real blood.
He looked down at it. Then at her.
He stood tall for a moment, unmoving.
In the next… he collapsed down to his knees.
A single dying phrase escaped him.
'Duty? I tried, in the beginning… I really did.'
Then—
He fell.
The Bright Lord…
The Overlord of the Bright Castle was no more.
"You tell 'em, Princess!"
Effie's voice rang out, a burst of cheer.
But her words died in the silence.
Nephis had dropped to one knee, breath coming in jagged pulls. Fragments coiled inside her, fracturing, reforming—birthing a seventh core.
Shadows poured in.
Sunny didn't hesitate.
A dome of darkness bloomed around her, silent and absolute. Pillars rose like monoliths, a veil drawn by a god's hand.
No one dared speak.
Effie and Kai exchanged tense glances. Cassie, as ever, unreadable.
"Sunny?" she asked softly, curiosity laced with confusion. "What's happening?"
Sunny's voice was smooth, almost amused.
"Oh, nothing much," he said. "Nephis killed Gunlaug. She's forming her seventh core. Might take a minute."
She didn't speak again. She wanted to, but remained still.
A barely noticeable smile on her face as she petted Fenrir.
(I am fully aware that this is out of character for Sunny… but do I care? No lmao.)
Sunny walked forward.
The center of the hall greeted him with corpses and silence. Harus and Gunlaug, two pillars of tyranny, reduced to stillness.
The shadows shifted before him, parting like reverent disciples, brushing the bodies aside—lest they sullied the soles of their god.
Sunny scoffed, voice cutting through the hush like silk over steel.
"Such insolence."
He lifted his gaze to the lieutenants flanking the throne—Gunlaug's former seat of judgment.
"You stand tall in the presence of a Sovereign? A god?"
The hall seemed to exhale.
The shadows danced, delighted by the rising storm.
He advanced.
Every step a verdict. Every breath, a command.
He was new to this—this life of monarchs and gods. But he had learned. From Eurys. From someone who was commanded a seat of power as a prince.
A Sovereign does not request obedience.
He objectively is.
And they will kneel.
At the foot of the throne, one lieutenant moved.
Seishan of Clan Song.
Her mother was a Sovereign.
But even she knew.
This was different.
He was different.
She descended the stairs in silence. When she stopped before him, her head dipped, eyes cast downward.
"Sovereign," she murmured, barely audible. "Forgive me, for I cannot name you my King. I am sworn to Queen Song."
Sunny's lips curled.
"Loyalty," he said. "A rare thing. Cherish it."
He turned to the others—Gemma, Tessai, Kido.
Judgment swept across them.
Tessai stood like a beast in chains. No honor. No shame. Just brute defiance.
Gemma and Kido, smarter. But stubborn.
He ascended the steps.
The air grew heavier with each pace, oppressive and absolute.
"It seems," he said, voice booming, "you fail to recognize the weight of your crimes."
Gemma dared to speak.
"And what crimes would those be, so-called Sovereign?"
Sunny smiled without warmth.
"You dare ask?" He took another step. "You stood with a tyrant. You spilled blood in his name. You watched justice rot and called it order."
Another step. The pressure crushed downward like the heavens tilting.
"You refuse to bow. You question my right to rule. That is audacity."
By the time he reached the top, they were on their knees.
Not from fear.
But because gravity itself had changed.
He glanced at them.
"Leave."
They obeyed.
The hall held its breath.
Then, he turned to the throne.
…
Back in Godgrace, in his citadel, he has paced in a perfect copy of the hall. The Crazy incarnation hissed toward Eurys.
"What do I do now?"
The skull chuckled like dry wind in a grave.
"My oh my, you really set the mood there."
He considered just for a moment, before speaking:
"Something bold. Something mad. Something… final."
…
Sunny's eyes narrowed.
He summoned a tenebrific odachi, a blade born of night and defiance.
He raised it.
One clean arc—diagonal.
Stone split with a howl. The throne of the Bright Lord shattered, crumbling to dust at his feet.
A silence.
Then shadows surged forth, coiling, folding, solidifying.
A new throne rose—taller. Darker. Crowned in twisting spires.
A throne not of light.
But of darkness.
Sunny sat.
Not as the Bright Lord.
Not as the inheritor.
But as the Sovereign of the Shadow Clan.
And the Bright Castle?
It knelt.
At the center of the hall, the dome of shadows peeled away—misting into nothing.
And from within it… she stood.
Changed.
Stronger. Brighter. Still burning.
After all…
What was a King, without a Queen?
Shadows surged again, obedient to his will. Another throne rose beside his own.
Not white stone.
No—this one was shadow-forged and oddly iridescent, cast in permanence, shaped by the hand of a Sovereign. A throne meant for the Queen of humanity.
Sunny had played with shadows like a child plays with clay. But now, his control was precise. Surgical. Divine.
If it existed, it could be shadowed.
And from shadow, it could be made real.
Nephis glanced around.
The cohorts' faces were unreadable—save for Cassie, who wore a knowing smile.
The hunters sat frozen—not by choice. The gravity in the room had yet to lift.
The lieutenants stood, yet their gazes were on the ground.
Then—her eyes found him.
Sunny.
Seated on a throne of night, carved from darkness itself.
Beside him, a throne of light awaited.
Sunny considered sending her a mental message. Telling her to play the part. To match the mask he now wore.
'Damn Eurys,' he muttered in thought. 'I should've known he was setting this up when he told me to manifest another throne.'
But Nephis… she understood.
Without a word, she stepped forward.
The shadows parted, clearing a path like a tide pulled by moonlight.
She walked with quiet authority, her movements fluid, deliberate.
As she neared the throne, the black veil of shadow-armored plates faded from her form—melting away to reveal the Starlight Legion's silver gleam beneath. Untarnished. Brilliant.
She said nothing.
Didn't look at him.
Didn't need to.
She sat.
Beside him.
Not as a follower.
Not as a guest.
But as an equal.
Silence fell like dusk over the hall.
And then Sunny's voice broke it—low, calm, inescapable.
"Now… onto discussions."
---
Sunny's Lazy incarnation drifted through the dark city.
He was hunting.
Well, "hunting" might've been a strong word.
He was looking.
For someone small. Stubborn. Stony.
'There you are,' Sunny thought, the barest flicker of a grin brushing his incorporeal mind.
The Stone Saint.
Once upon a time, she had stood taller than him. Towering, even.
Now? The roles were reversed.
He summoned a bow from the shadows—sleek, black, and soundless. An arrow followed, sharp as purpose.
A breath.
He aimed.
He loosed.
The shot landed dead center. The heart of the statue cracked, then shattered. A rain of rubble fell.
The spell stirred.
[You have slain an Awakened creature: Stone Saint.]
[Death recognizes its own.]
[A Shadow finds solace within you.]
There was a pause. A quiet inhale in the world's lungs.
Then—
[You have received an Echo: Stone Saint.]