Shadow Slave

While the battered incarnation was tending to the Nameless Temple, another stood in the vast hall of the ruined cathedral, which had gradually become something akin to a forge.

At the far end, beneath the unwavering gaze of the Nameless Goddess, the solemn shadow of the King of Swords was crafting a massive breastplate. He used the altar as his anvil, and the material he shaped into the towering suit of armor was manifested shadow. His hammer rose and fell in steady rhythm, giving form to the darkness...

The former King’s expression remained still and unreadable, his gaze curiously both filled with cold intellect and devoid of vitality. He retained the remarkable skill of a blacksmith and artisan, along with the discerning mind needed to use it. But he lacked the spirit and will that made one truly alive.

The shadow of Anvil possessed no desires and no emotions, existing in a serene state of quiet emptiness.

Still... he appeared at peace, even satisfied, having been offered the chance to devote himself to his craft beyond death. Or so Sunny believed, after watching Anvil’s shadow for many days.

At first, Sunny had been tempted to destroy it. He knew that losing the shadow of a Supreme being would be a severe blow to the Shadow Legion, even without its Will. But despite that, he had still wanted to erase Anvil’s shadow out of pure resentment, feeling that its presence alone polluted his soul.

Eventually, though, he chose not to.

Then, he considered sending the royal shade into battle. In the end, Sunny concluded that Anvil’s shadow was best suited to this — laboring as the blacksmith for the evergrowing Shadow Legion.

Sunny personally crafted the Memories for the members of the Shadow Clan, but the shadow legionnaires dwelling in his soul were too numerous and too unlike Awakened humans.

None of them were capable of possessing or summoning Memories. Many, however, required weapons and armor — especially the human shades like Solvane, Daeron, and the seven Saints of the Song Domain that he had slain. They had lost their own arsenals of Memories before being absorbed into his soul, and so were forced to fight unarmed as soldiers of shadow.

The shadows of the Nightmare Creatures were less disadvantaged in that regard, since their primary weapons were their claws, fangs, talons, mandibles, or other appendages whose names Sunny didn’t even know. Still, that didn’t mean they couldn’t benefit from crafted equipment.

What was more terrifying than a monstrous beast? A monstrous beast clad in a suit of impenetrable armor, undoubtedly. And while being torn apart by claws was already dreadful, being shredded by claws encased in sharpened metal was undeniably worse.

Sunny’s answer to this problem was to appoint the former Sovereign as the Shadow Legion’s master of arms and armorer. Now, Anvil’s shadow resided in the ruined cathedral, endlessly forging weapons and fearsome armor from the essence of shadows.

Sunny had moved his own workshop and laboratory into the cathedral as well — the space was abundant, and someone needed to keep watch over Slayer in her subterranean cell anyway.

Crafting the Memories for the Shadow Clan had been a massive undertaking. Not because the process was particularly difficult, but simply because of how many there were. Some of these refined Memories, like the Black Canteen — successor to Rain’s beloved Green Canteen — were standard issue and given to every member of the clan.

Others shared similar appearances but were individually crafted and fine-tuned to fit the unique Aspects of the Shadow Clan members. For example, the suits of armor Sunny forged each held a reservoir that he personally filled with shadow essence, enabling even ordinary Awakened to activate powerful, life-saving enchantments in dire situations.

Corsair’s complete set of Memories had already been prepared. The Shadow Clan had observed the potential recruit for quite a while, and with Cassie’s assistance, Sunny already had a full understanding of his Aspect.

So, at the moment, Sunny was focused on something different.

He moved slowly across the dark expanse of the ruined cathedral’s great hall, gazing upward with a thoughtful expression.

Above him, an intricate web of black stands spread into a vast and mesmerizing design — a formation as awe-inspiring as it was intimidating, stretching the full length of the hall and reaching all the way to the ceiling high above.

The pattern was not formed from strings of shadow essence. Rather, it consisted purely of manifested shadows.

It was a visual model of the weave Sunny had been developing for a long time, created to ease the burden on his overstressed mind.

Focusing on one particular section of the elaborate design, Sunny sighed.

”The last solution only caused more issues to emerge, didn’t it?”

The weave he was constructing was meant to become the framework for his very own shadowbound Memory — a charm usable by all of his incarnations.

Unlike with the Blessing, this time there was no Spell to guide or complete the process. So Sunny had to oversee every part of its creation on his own. Given the value and rarity of the resources that would go into forging this charm, he wanted to be absolutely certain nothing would go to waste. ℞ÅꞐỒ฿ÈŜ

Turning his attention to the problematic segment of the vast design, Sunny allowed the steady rhythm of the dead King’s hammer to wash over him. He then directed the strands of shadow to realign themselves, creating a new configuration.

He studied the result with a serious look.

Eventually, a faint smile lit up his face.

”Much better. Now, on to the next complication.”

There were still numerous flawed areas within the enormous and astonishingly intricate weave, but he was drawing closer to completing the ambitious structure. Once finished, it would hopefully grant him significant power and versatility.

Far away, Sunny’s final two incarnations were engaged in a different task altogether.

They were at war with the Burned Forest.