Shadow Slave

The whole spectacle was so smoothly orchestrated that Sunny was almost tempted to believe in it. Of course, he knew better.

The only thing he didn’t know was whether the bits performed by the Pathfinder and Gemma were rehearsed in advance or improvised on the fly to fulfill their lord’s desire to maintain appearances while having the man who had dared to speak openly against him publicly executed.

And that was what this was, an execution. Sunny didn’t believe for a second that Gunlaug was going to give the brave hunter a chance to leave the grand hall alive. No, he wanted him dead, and he wanted everyone to see him die.

…Lest they get the idea that it was possible to run their mouths against him and escape unscathed.

And yet, and yet… a tiny ember of hope still burned in Sunny’s heart. From the looks of it, Jubei was an experienced hunter. A capable, seasoned warrior who faced numerous monsters and ended up on top every time. He was very strong, with enough willpower and resolve to crush rocks into dust. Perhaps a miracle would happen.

No matter how small, there was a possibility.

That’s why Sunny couldn’t understand why Gunlaug would be willing to risk his right-hand man’s life in this farce.

…As though reading his thoughts, the Bright Lord spoke:

“A challenge? Ah, so be it. This is a sacred tradition, indeed. As long as good men are willing to put their lives on the line for the sake of righteousness, depravity can’t win…”

The crowd of Sleepers exploded into whispers. Some of them were tense and somber, others filled with dark anticipation. The corner of Sunny’s mouth turned downwards.

From what he could see, depravity had already won, or at least gotten the upper hand.

But Gunlaug wasn’t done speaking:

“…However, it would not be suitable for you to represent the accused personally, Gemma. The Bright Castle can’t afford to lose you, my friend. Jubei, would you mind if the accused chose another champion?”

The hunter from the outer settlement simply shrugged and said:

“Bring your worst, cowards.”

Bright Lord turned to the Pathfinder and tilted his head. With his suddenly pale face reflected in the eerie mask of the strange golden armor, the murderer remained silent for a few moments, and then said in a quiet voice:

“I choose Harus, my lord.”

Everyone suddenly grew silent. Sunny himself felt cold shivers running down his spine. Why did it have to be that creepy wicked cripple…

In the deathly silence, Jubei smirked and spat with grim satisfaction:

“Even better!”

It seemed that he had a score to settle with the silent hunchback, too.

Harus, who had looked a little bored and uncomfortable through the whole procedure, stared at the Pathfinder who had named him with no particular expression on his bony face, and then slowly walked down the steps.

The other lieutenants reacted to this unexpected turn of events differently. Gemma frowned and threw a quick glance at Gunlaug before stepping back with a dark expression. Tessai grinned, as though expecting a good spectacle. Kido grew a little pale and took a little step sideways, trying to distance herself from the descending hunchback as much as possible.

Only Seishan remained silent and indifferent, not allowing any emotion to appear on her cold, beautiful face.

Realizing what was about to happen, Cassie squeezed Sunny’s arm and whispered:

“Sunny, I want to leave.”

After a short pause, he answered in a raspy voice:

“I’m sorry. We can’t leave now.”

Despite the fact that he didn’t want to be anywhere near Gunlaug’s scarecrow, he knew that leaving now would draw too much attention. They couldn’t risk that in the presence of all five lieutenants, not to mention Golden Serpent himself.

What’s more, his mission in the castle was to gather as much information as possible. He couldn’t miss the chance to see one of the most dangerous creatures in this deceptively peaceful stronghold in action.

…And there was this dark feeling deep within his heart that one day, somehow, he and Harus were going to end up bloodied, with only one of them walking away alive from the fight. It was as though an invisible thread connected them together.

Perhaps it was a string of fate.

Meanwhile, the hunchback descended from the steps and stopped opposite Jubei in the empty space that had been cleared in the center of the grand hall. His face was still motionless and a little bored.

Sunny held his breath.

As Gunlaug sat silently on the white throne, Jubei summoned his Memories. A flexible armor made out of red scales appeared on his body, complete with a winged helmet and a kite shield. In his hand, a curved scimitar weaved itself from the sparks of light. Its blade was as sharp as a razor.

The hunter glanced at Harus and said in a steady voice:

“Let’s see what you’re capable of, butcher.”

The hunchback just looked at him with his glassy eyes and silently allowed his thick cloak to fall on the floor. Then, he grimaced and straightened his spine as much as he could, suddenly losing the appearance of a small and fragile cripple.

At his full height, Harus towered above most of the Sleepers in the grand hall, losing only to the giant Tessai. His monstrous, twisted shape radiated a sense of deep, bestial power. He didn’t bother to summon any Memories, staring at the hunter with the same cold indifference.

Jubei scowled.

“So be it.”

Full of anxiety, Sunny held his breath.

The proud hunter lunged forward, raising his shield and at the same time slashing with the scimitar. His movements were incredibly fast and nimble, his technique sharpened by years of bloody battles in the Dark City and guided by rich experience.

‘Good… he’s good…’

Did Jubei… really have a chance?

As Sunny’s eyes widened, Harus seemed to miss the attack completely. As though forgetting that he wasn’t armed, the hunchback simply raised a hand to meet the razor-sharp blade.

…And gripped it with his bare fist, stopping Jubei’s strike in its tracks.

For a fraction of a second, everyone in the grand hall froze in astonishment — except for the hunter, who immediately tried to wrestle his scimitar from the iron grip of the Gunlaug’s killer. But it was of no use. It was as though the saber was stuck in stone.

It wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

In the next moment, Harus moved forward with a snake-like speed and put his large hand on Jubei’s shoulder. Then, with a sickening sound, he effortlessly tore the entire arm off.

Somebody screamed.

As blood spilled on the marble floor, the proud hunter stared at the stump that had suddenly replaced his dominant arm in disbelief, not yet feeling the terrible pain that would soon follow. However, it never did.

Before Jubei could even react, Harus grasped his head with both hands and snapped his neck in one brutal, violent motion. Then, he hit the hunter in the chest, shattering his ribs and sending the body flying back a dozen meters.

The broken corpse of the defiant challenger fell on the floor, rivers of blood flowing from its terrible wounds onto the pristine white stones.

From start to finish, the whole fight took no more than five seconds.

Harus looked at his hands, shook a few crimson droplets off, and then silently returned to his place beside the master of the castle, his expression still cold.

However, it wasn’t bored anymore.

Instead, it was full of subtle glee.

After all, he had just helped his lord pass down judgment.

This was law, this was tradition.

This was justice.