Shadow Slave

It was hard to concentrate when facing literally... everything, ever, all at once, torn and in a state of utter havoc.

And yet, Sunny tried.

He had already achieved something astonishing by enduring the terrible visage of fate without being reduced to a mindless husk. But now, he needed to do something even more unimaginable — he had to actually fathom fate in its endless complexity.

Of course, that was impossible. Even strengthened by Mind Weave, Sunny was not at all capable of doing something like that — no one was, really. Even Weaver, the Demon of Fate, could not grasp all of its Strings... although they seem to have gotten pretty close to it.

Sunny had to do the opposite.

Instead of trying to comprehend all of fate, he had to learn how to limit himself to only perceiving a small fraction of it. That, at least, was something he could potentially manage.

In a sense, what Sunny was trying to achieve was the opposite of what he had been trying to do all these years. Ever since becoming a Sleeper, Sunny had been teaching himself how to expand the scope of his mind — first to perceive the world from two points of view at the same time, then from seven, and finally from thousands of them.

Ironically enough, now that he had finally achieved the latter thanks to Mind Weave, he had to narrow the scope of his mind instead.

So, that was what Sunny endeavored to do. It wasn’t easy, especially because he had to contend against the crushing pressure and the breathtaking torment of beholding the great tapestry of fate — in that state, simply forming cohesive thoughts was a challenge, let alone guiding them in a desired direction.

However, Sunny was actually helped by the fact that he had just returned from the waking world. After enduring its suppression for an extended period of time, he felt at ease and liberated in the frightening expanse of the Dream Realm. The relief he felt equalized the pressure he was subjected to, somewhat, and the task of resisting the latter felt familiar.

‘All this effort... just to bury my head in the sand like an ostrich...’

..Whatever the hell an ostrich was.

Slowly, gradually, Sunny felt himself growing blind to the vastness of fate. The daunting visage of the great tapestry was still there, all around him, but it was as if Sunny had developed tunnel vision. The confines of his perception were broad at first, then grew narrow. Eventually, he managed to limit the scope of his vision to only those Strings of Fate that pierced the Night Garden.

But even that was too much. So, he focused and made himself blind to more of them: to the fates of millions of mundane people aboard the titanic ship, of the Awakened warriors, of the Nightmare Creatures whose fates ended when they touched the living bulwark of the giant ship’s hull... anything and everything that had become a part of the Night Garden recently.

Only then did Sunny manage to let out a relieved sigh.

There were still countless Strings of Fate around him, most of them tangled and torn, but at least their number was not inconceivable anymore.

More than that, Sunny felt like he gained a measure of control over the [Where is my eye?] enchantment. Before, it had both shown him the Strings of Fate and forced the knowledge of them upon him. But now, he could perceive them without knowing them — could behold a fraction of the great tapestry of fate without drowning in it.

It was as if an invisible wall was standing between him and the overwhelming knowledge... or rather, a door.

One that he could, most likely, open at will. He just had to find a way to do it.

Sunny remained motionless for a while, thinking. There were many Strings of Fate around him, piercing all of existence and stretching into infinity. Some of them were dim, while some seemed to shine like rays of brilliant starlight. He was searching for a particular glow, though... 𝑅𝖆𐌽ồ𝐛Ё𝒮

He was searching for the String of Fate made out of pure golden light, like the one that had led him to the Ebony Tower and Weaver’s severed arm all those years ago. Soon enough, he found it.

It wasn’t very difficult, because the radiant golden string was right in front of him. There were others like it, as well — after all, the golden hue must have signified a connection to Divine beings, and the Night Garden was a mythical vessel — but he felt especially drawn to this one.

‘Now, I just need to follow that string to the hidden spot where Weaver had left their Lineage...’

But he couldn’t.

That was because the golden string did not seem to lead anywhere in particular. Instead of stretching to a certain area on the gigantic ship, it simply pieced its hull, as if connected to the Night Garden itself. Sunny frowned behind Weaver’s Mask. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

He hesitated for a while, and then did something he had never considered doing before.

Following an impulse, he reached forward... And grasped the String of Fate in his hand. To Sunny’s relief, his fingers did not turn to ash, and neither were they severed. Most amazingly of all, they did not simply pass through the thread of golden light... they grasped it tightly, as if touching a physical object.

He could feel the very fabric of fate under his fingertips, which tingled faintly.

It was only then that Sunny finally understood the nature of the changes that consuming Weaver’s lineage had caused to his mind, body, and soul.

He used to think that the peculiar quirks of the Weaves were meant to make him adept at Weaver’s unique sorcery: Blood Weave had given him the ability to see the strings of essence, Bone Weave had allowed him to touch them, Flesh Weave had made it so he was not cut by them, Mind Weave had allowed him to fathom the endless intricacies of spellweaves...

However, at that moment, he realized that it was all no more than a side effect — that it was merely a prelude.

The true purpose of these alterations... was this.

It was the ability to interact with the Strings of Fate.

‘D—damnation..:

As Sunny’s fingertips slid across the surface of the golden threat, he shuddered. Because, through touch, he saw a glimpse of the fate contained within it.

Suddenly, his mind went elsewhere.