Shadow Slave

’Aaahh…’

The world was full of pain. The world was also upside down, and something was streaming down Sunny’s face. He could feel the familiar taste of blood on his tongue… but also of something else, unbearably bitter and oily, which made him want to wretch. A sharp scent was assaulting his nostrils, seemingly seeping into his very brain.

Opening his eyes, he beheld the world in utter confusion. The crack on the windshield of his PTV seemed to have disappeared… no, the windshield itself

was gone, turned into a scattering of glass shards. The PTV was laying on its roof, with water flowing inside through the shattered windows.

The interior of the mangled vehicle was bent and misshapen. The wheel was broken, the dashboard was gone, and he could see a mess of sparking wires behind the displaced plastic panels.

The liquid flowing down his face was blood mixed with gasoline.

Hanging upside down, held in place by his seat belt, Sunny groaned.

’The fuel… that damn fuel…’

Who in their right mind fueled their PTVs with flammable fuel?!

Now, he was one spark away from turning into a blackened, crispy corpse.

Turning his head a little, Sunny saw the Other Mordret hanging from his seat, unconscious. The rearview mirror was gone, though, so he could not tell what happened to Effie and Saint.

’I am so… fed up with this crap.’

Gritting his teeth, Sunny tried to disengage his seatbelt. When that did not work, he growled in frustration and pulled a tactical knife from a hidden

sheath on his belt — the very same knife he had almost been killed with last night.

A few seconds later, Sunny fell down onto the roof of the overturned PTV and let out a stifled scream.

”Sick of it… I’m sick of it…”

Crawling through empty space where the windshield had been, Sunny felt the cold rain washing the blood off his face.

He was a damn Sovereign. He was a Supreme Titan — a being much closer to being divine than to being human. He was not supposed to bleed, his hands were not supposed to be cut by the shards of glass, and his ribs were not supposed to crack from something as pedestrian as being hit by a speeding vehicle.

Sunny was indignant.

Sunny was angry.

He was completely over this nonsense.

The amount and the intensity of pain he felt would have sent an ordinary person into shock and paralyzed them, but Sunny simply ignored it — after all, this mundane suffering could not compare to the dreadful agony he had endured countless times before. Letting out an infuriating hiss,he pushed himself off the wet asphalt and slowly stood up. ṙＡＮȏ𐌱Èŝ

Sunny swayed, staggered, but remained upright, looking around with a murderous glint in his bloodshot eyes.

The vehicle that had crashed into his PTV was a dozen or so meters away, deformed and leaking some sort of fluid. Its doors were open, and men in black clothes and masks were already getting out. Another vehicle had just skidded to a halt to his right, and even more masked men were pouring outside, into the rain.

’One, two…’

Sunny’s vision was blurry, so he couldn’t even count them.

’Enough to vent my anger, anyway.’

Behind him, the bent door of the overturned PTV suddenly flew off from a powerful kick, ricocheting off the asphalt a few times before coming to a stop. Effie climbed out awkwardly, then rose to her feet by using the mangled frame of the vehicle as support.

She was bruised and battered, too, but seemingly in a better shape than Sunny — he was hit the hardest because the enemy PTV had crashed into the driver’s door.

Giving Sunny a dazed look, Effie smiled crookedly.

Her lips and teeth were painted red by blood, so that smile looked a bit frightening.

”You alive?”

Sunny let go of the car and spent a few seconds remembering how to maintain balance.

”Technically, I’m dead… but yeah.”

Effie stared at him for a moment, then looked away and rolled her eyes.

”Another one. Gods, why am I always surrounded by zombies?”

She straightened and faced the approaching enemies with a sober expression.

”Morgan should be here in a few minutes, I think.”

Sunny raised a hand to wipe the blood from his eyes. He did not feel too well, at the moment.

”Do you think we can survive a few minutes?”

Effie smiled wryly.

”Of course. I don’t know about you… but I’m not dying on an empty stomach. I refuse to.”

Her bloody smile widened a little.

The masked men were about to reach them.

There were seven of them, each armed with knives or batons. Sunny and Effie, meanwhile, were both in sorry states, bleeding and barely standing upright.

It hardly mattered, though.

’Hey, Castellan. If you’re watching…’

Sunny took a shaky step forward, then pretended to stumble. The nearest of the assailants used the opportunity to strike while the enemy was off balance — lunging forward, the man raised his baton and struck down, aiming to crack Sunny’s skull.

Instead of swaying and desperately trying to regain his balance, though, Sunny suddenly pivoted on one leg, dodged the baton,then grabbed the assailant’s wrist and plunged his knife into his arm. He pushed the blade upward, slicing it open from wrist to elbow, then pushed the man away and kicked him in the abdomen.

The masked man flew back, colliding against his companions and momentarily blocking their approach.

’Let me show you what the people from the real world are like. You poor fool.”

To his left, Effie used the enviable length of her shapely, runway-worthy legs to push-kick one of the assailants in the chest before his knife could get anywhere near her. Things like weight and reach were much more important in fights between mundane people, where soul essence did not serve as the great equalizer — so, her height gave her an advantage.

Even without essence, Effie’s strength seemed almost monstrous. Her blow was powerful enough to send the man flying back and crashing heavily into the

asphalt, as if he had been kicked by a horse. He rolled over his shoulder, folded awkwardly, and remained laying there in a groaning heap.

Sunny smiled wickedly.

’You should have never messed with us, bastard.’

But then, his expression fell.

’Wait…’

Seven… why were there seven assailants?

Each of the two adversary vehicles had all its doors open, four per PTV. Which meant that… which meant that…

There were supposed to be eight of them!

Cursing, he spun around and saw a dark shape leaning to thrust a blade through the window on the passenger side of the overturned PTV. Where Mordret was entangled in a seat belt, still unconscious.

’Crap!’

Sunny threw his battered body forward, knowing full well that he would never be able to circle the car in time.

But then…

There was a loud crack, and the falling torrents of rain were illuminated for a split second by a bright flash.

The back of the eighth assailant’s head evaporated into a bloody mist.

Time seemed to slow down.

Saint’s disheveled form revealed itself from behind the mangled PTV. Her hair was a wet mess, and there were oily stains on her coat, but other than that, she seemed mostly fine.

As the assailant’s body fell to the ground, Saint looked down, at the smoking revolver in her hand. There was a distant expression on her beautiful face…

But only for a moment.

’Wha…’

Then, Saint’s expression settled into a mask of aloof indifference, and she moved her hand in Sunny’s direction.

Bang! Bang!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

It only took her a couple of seconds to discharge the five remaining bullets,hitting the five remaining assailants with eerie precision.

Each hit was a flawless headshot.

...Sunny flinched belatedly.