Shadow Slave

’The bombardment of the Night Garden descended on the northern span of the great bridge, carving bloody paths in the tide of hideous flesh. A bloody haze drifted above the vast chasm, and pieces of tom bodies rained down.

Saint retreated just in time to avoid being swept away in the lethal barrage, sliding back on the slick stone while plunging her sword into it to arrest her momentum. A split second later, she regained her balance and lunged forward, cutting down one of the fallen immortals who had escaped the first salvo of the Night Garden.

Due to her monumental height, she looked like a towering statue from a distance. Fiend was at least four times higher — at that moment, however, his fearsome figure suddenly shrank, becoming only a head taller than her. His mass remained the same, though, so when he lunged forward to join Saint, the great bridge trembled and trembled.

Together, they massacred the vanguard of the immortal swarm. Fire and darkness intertwined like a primal inferno, reminding Sunny of the ancient murals depicting the flames of Desire burning in the everlasting Void.

The Shadow Legion advanced.

With the Night Garden bombarding the bridge, it was as if the roots of the immortal swarm had been cut. The grotesque nightmare creatures were still swiftly rising from the dead, but since the massive cannonballs continued to decimate them, fewer managed to reach the line of battle contact intact — and because of that, the balance of power between them and the silent shades shifted.

With fewer enemies to deal with, Saint and her army were able to restrain them faster, and once they gained that advantage, their progress snowballed.

Standing on the deck of the Night Garden, Naeve observed the distant battle with a stunned expression. This was his first time witnessing the Shadow Legion — or any Sovereign going all out, for that matter - so he was reasonably taken aback.

Eventually, he said in a low voice:

”So this is your true power.”

Sunny, who had been busy loading and firing twelve massive cannons of his own creation, gave him a sideways glance.

”Technically, this is one-third of five sevenths of my true power. But it is close enough, I guess.”

Slowly, Naeve’s gaze turned subtly bitter. Looking away from the furious battle raging on the distant bridge, he sighed.

”In the past, I’ve often wondered how things would have been different if the House of Night had managed to produce a Sovereign. What would have happened if Nightwalker was still here...”

Sunny smiled faintly.

”I think you got it all wrong. Great Clans do not produce Sovereigns — it’s the opposite. Sovereigns produce Great Clans. So, in a sense, the House of Night was the most impressive of the Great Clans, because you achieved that title without being supported by a Supreme.”

Naeve shook his head.

”We were still wiped out, in the end. Even if we weren’t, we were destined to fade into obscurity as Valor and Song conquered everything.”

He remained silent for a while, then looked at Sunny and asked:

”What does it feel like, to wield the power akin to a deity?”

Jet, who was leaning against a wooden beam nearby, smiled.

”Yes. What does it feel like?”

Sunny did not answer immediately, concentrating on his countless shades, the shadows he was manifesting, and firing the cannons. Eventually, he said: ”I guess it makes you feel... small.” It was not the answer they expected, so both seemed surprised. ”Small?” Sunny nodded. ”You are both Saints, so you should understand. The more powerful you become and the more you learn, the more painfully you understand just how weak and ignorant you are. However, there is solace in anonymity. As a mundane person, you know that there are billions of people who are no different from you. As an Awakened, there are hundreds of thousands, at least a hundred as a Saint. But there are only a few Sovereigns. So being weak and ignorant... feels much more personal.”

He paused for a second and then chuckled.

”Ah, but don’t misunderstand. It’s not all bad. In fact, being a demigod feels great. To be honest, my youth was quite miserable - every day, I struggled just to survive. Now, though... now, I wouldn’t even know how to die. Killing me is strictly a theoretical possibility.”

Having witnessed the state of the immortal dwellers of the Eternal City, however, Sunny was not as comforted by being nearly unkillable as before.

On the bridge, Saint and her army were steadily making their way to the new island. With the support of the Night Garden, the pressure on her and her troops reduced by a large margin — so large, in fact, that Sunny could shift some of these forces elsewhere.

So, he sent Fiend and fresh reinforcements to the other two bridges. Most importantly, he released Saint from the embrace of his shadow and sent that incarnation to augment the Marvelous Mimic, as well. With three of his avatars concentrated on the middle bridge, he could unleash the power of the Curse and weaken the fallen immortals there better.

These bridges were a perfect battlefield for the [Weakening Curse], in fact, because only a limited number of enemies could attack his forces simultaneously there. That allowed him to concentrate the debilitating sorcery of the shadowbound charm on the foremost enemies, thus maximizing its effectiveness.

With reinforcements arriving from the eastern bridge, the situation on the other two had shifted, too. Slowly at first, then exponentially faster, the scales of battle started to tip in Sunny’s favor. Once he gained an advantage, it only continued to grow.

And before too long, the three battles reached their conclusion.

Saint, Slayer, and the Marvelous Mimic had crossed the bridges and entered the three islands, leading the Shadow Legion onto their shores.

..Of course, the conclusion of the battle for the three bridges did not mean that all combat ceased. The islands were teeming with horrid, immortal abominations, so the battle continued, even if its intensity lessened.

It had simply entered a new phase.