Shadow Slave

Slayer engaged the Cursed Wanderer in a lethal duel, which bought the Shadow Legion some time...

But, sadly, not a lot of time.

Even if she continued to hold the sinister apparition back, his army of wraiths was still assaulting the weakening formation of the silent shades. Saint, Fiend, and Serpent did their best to repel the enemy, but even their great strength was not enough to turn the tide of the battle.

Soon enough, the formation was going to break. The wraiths were going to wash over scattered shades, obliterating them. Then, they would assault the walls of the Dark Castle, bring them down, and slaughter its defenders. Lastly, Sunny would be left to face the horrors of the Eternal City alone, having lost both his shades and his Shadows.

He would probably be able to save Naeve, but the incarnation sewing Nightwalker and his shadow together would be interrupted, dooming the legendary founder of the House of Night.

That was unless the Flesh of Kanakht reached the Palace Island first and fused with the Soul of Kanakht, dooming all of them.

The ghastly mountain of bleeding flesh was already looming close, wading through the boiling lake with deceptively slow steps. Now that it was closer, its titanic size felt especially daunting... the Flesh of Kanakht was not exactly on the same level as Condemnation, but close to it, standing as tall as the Palace.

Actually, now that the Palace was collapsing, it was taller than it.

The abhorrent Titan could easily reach the roof of the failing dome with its hand... which meant that it could reach the Ivory Island, as well. It could also tear off the enormous wings of the Puppeteer or crush the entirety of the Dark Castle under one foot. ‘How are we even supposed to fight that thing?’

Sunny knew that he would manage, somehow, if push came to shove. But he was not looking forward to that particular battle.

He would have to survive the Dutchman and the wraith horde first to get the chance to survive against the Flesh of Kanakht, though.

East of the Palace Island, Nephis and the Madness of Kanakht were still locked in a furious battle. Sunny did not know what was going on there, but judging by the blinding radiance that enveloped the eastern sky, she was going all out.

The situation seemed hopeless...

But, luckily, it was not.

Continuing to stitch Nightwalker and his shadow together, Sunny smiled darkly. ‘Good job, Slayer.’

He had bought himself enough time.

Out there on the shattered battlefield in front of the Dark Castle, the formation of the Shadow Legion shifted faintly.

The towering gates of the castle opened. And then, suddenly, rows of new shades marched out of its maw.

Hundreds of them at first, then thousands. Most belonged to humans, but some belonged to magnificent beasts.

And all of them were exceedingly powerful. Sunny’s smile widened.

Well, naturally they were. After all, they were the shadows of the immortals of the Eternal City.

At the same time as his burned incarnation had begun to stitch the orphaned shadow to Nightwalker, the rest entered the collapsing Palace. In an ironic twist of fate — or lack thereof — he rushed back to the Shadow Lantern immediately after escaping it.

His avatars rapidly reached the void chamber — what had been the void chamber, rather. It did not exist anymore, having fused with the great hall above it in a mess of darkness and torn metal. The dying star was barely an ember, and the black rift of the Gate of Shadows seemed to have grown hungrily in size.

The three incarnations dove into its impenetrable darkness without ever slowing down.

‘Argh!’

Entering the Shadow Realm, Sunny was immediately blinded. The vast expanse of black dunes was usually shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by the distant radiance of the essence storms. However, at the moment, he was surrounded by turbulent currents of essence on all sides, bathed in luminous light.

It seemed that an essence storm was being born at that precise moment, in front of his eyes, all around him.

Countless shadows were moving slowly in the blinding radiance, slowly dissolving into billowing torrents of essence. They were the shadows he had liberated from the prison built by the Demon of Repose, delivered to the Realm of Death after eons of captivity. The Shadow Realm was rending the shadows rapidly, as if time was catching up to them. He was not going to be able to recruit them all... but with three avatars acting as his heralds, he would be able to recruit numerous.

Enough to turn the flood of the battle, at least.

And that was what he did.

Now, thousands of immensely powerful shades emerged from the gates of the Dark Caste like a black torrent. They flowed around the formation of the Shadow Legion and descended upon the wraiths from the flanks, crashing into them like an obliterating wave.

Compared to the myriad of ghostly soldiers, there were not that many new shades joining the battle. But each of them had been cast by an immortal dweller of the Eternal City — they were all tremendously strong, vastly increasing the power of the diminished Shadow Legion.

Enough so to break the balance of the battle entirely.

The Shadow Legion had been losing before. But now, it suddenly had the advantage, pushing the ethereal warriors back. Countless wraiths were slaughtered in an instant, and more were being destroyed every moment.

Even the mist seemed to reel back, repelled by the fury of the calamitous clash. Somewhere above, there was the sound of thunder. A hexagonal section of the invisible dome failed, and a pillar of black water of the same form crashed down, instantly turning the ruins below into dust.

The dust did not move anymore, having lost its ability to turn back into magnificent buildings.

The Cursed Wanderer halted for a moment, watching as his army was being destroyed. Then, he lunged forward, broke through Slayer’s defense with a reckless attack, and endured the sharp bite of her blades. He was severely wounded, but managed to push Slayer back with that sacrifice — she evaded the ghostly cutlass, but failed to evade his empty hand.

The great wraith’s hand pierced her abdomen, dealing her a deep wound, and threw her to the ground dozens of meters away.

The Cursed Wanderer did not pursue his wounded opponent, though.

He did not rush to join his melting army, either.

Instead, the sinister apparition turned around and rushed toward the approaching ghastly mass of the Flesh of Kanakht.

Sunny flinched.

‘Curses!’