Shadow Slave

Cassie had called out to Mordret.

She was calling out to the others, as well.

In the spacious corridors of Mirage Castle, a fierce battle was only growing more perilous as more and more of its defenders poured inside from the outer walls. Effie and the other prisoners of the Dreamspawn, whom she had freed, were steadily carving a path toward the throne room, where the Gateway was located.

There were close to a hundred of them. Most were seasoned warriors and veterans of the Nightmare Spell… but they were also all in a sorry state, having endured weeks or even months of physical and mental torture. It almost seemed as if it was pure willpower that moved their exhausted bodies instead of physical effort, and that as soon as their willpower reached its limit, they would fall.

They were only able to keep fighting because Saint Athena, Raised by Wolves, led them into battle.

There was nothing lofty or poetic about that statement — she was simply using her Ascended Ability to augment their bodies with a semblance of her own dire strength.

She was also the tip of the spear, serving as both the shield of their advance and a sledgehammer that broke through the hastily assembled battle formations of the enemy.

Effie had finally replenished enough essence to summon her armor, which covered her body like a second layer of skin. She couldn’t quite use a spear effectively with one hand, and neither could she hold up a shield… but her Divine spear was missing, anyway, and her body was hardier than any shield could be.

So, Effie summoned a short sword instead. Now, she moved swiftly through a hurricane of steel, abandoning all pretense of defense in favor of pure offense.

Countless blows rained down on her, sliding powerlessly off her armor. Even those attacks that managed to breach or bypass it simply bounced off her impenetrable skin, leaving no mark on it. Every time she lashed back at the thralls of the Dreamspawn, however, someone fell down.

Effie was using that flat side of her sword, not wishing to spill an ocean of blood by cutting her own people down. Her inhuman strength was more than sufficient to topple even battle-hardened Masters in one blow, dazed or unconscious…

But a battle was a battle.

There had never been a real battle where nobody lost their life. And people were losing their lives now, too — more than she cared to count.

‘Damn that vile bastard…’

Effie slammed an enemy soldier into the wall, causing him to crumple and fall to the floor like a broken doll. Blood flowed out of his mouth… but he was breathing, at least.

His face was familiar. All their faces were familiar, in fact — Effie had commanded these soldiers in the past, leading them in the elaborate task of protecting the streets of Bastion.

This one seemed to be the last one in this particular chamber. She leaned on the cracked wall, breathing heavily, and raised a hand to wipe the sweat off her brow.

It was only when a dull pain pulsed in her stump that she remembered that her hand was missing. Effie stared at the stump for a few moments, then used her teeth to tighten the leather cord tied around her mangled arm.

“Thane, how is it?”

The sounds of battle still resounded from somewhere far behind them, as well as from the sides. The eccentric Saint appeared by her side out of nowhere, having by some miracle found time to wash his face and tidy up his clothes in the middle of all this chaos.

His voice was tense:

“The rear guard is retreating — there are too many thralls entering through the main gate. We have taken the library, and the eastern service staircase is about to fall into our hands.”

Effie remained silent for a moment, then nodded.

“Good. Once we take the staircase, we can pull our people back through the library and make our way to the gallery of the petitioner’s path. Attack them from two sides… It’s a straight line to the throne room from there.”

She pushed herself off the wall and inhaled deeply.

“Come! We must push forward.”

The escaped prisoners readied themselves and then advanced into the clangor of steel.

As the battle continued and they drew closer and closer to the throne room, at some point, Effie suddenly heard a voice whispering into her ear:

[Effie…]

She deflected a blow with her sword, sent the enemy flying with a slam of her shoulder, and grinned.

[Cassie? Hell… you are alive, after all. I didn’t think I’d ever hear your voice again.]

She lunged forward, enduring a barrage of blows to dismantle the formation of Asterion’s thralls. At the same time, she thought:

[Listen, the situation… well, I guess you already know. How are things on your end?]

There was a long pause, and then Cassie’s voice resounded again:

[I will explain later. For now, I need your help.]

Effie blocked a devastating blow of an enchanted halberd with her forearm, feeling a pulse of sharp pain radiate from her stump.

She didn’t feel too well.

[Really? Ah, damn it. I sort of hoped that you’ll help me, instead!]

The edge of her sword cut the shaft of the halberd, and a moment later, the flat of its blade connected with her opponent’s helmet. He toppled like a cut tree.

[Still, what do you need me to do? Apart from taking Bastion from the Dreamspawn, that is.]

Cassie answered quietly.

[I need you to become a conduit of my Will. I need you to do it willingly.]

Effie did not entirely understand what she meant, but if Cassie was asking, it had to be important.

[Sure. I’ll be a conduit of your will. Is that all?]

There was a long stretch of silence, and then Cassie’s voice resounded again, growing harder to distinguish:

[Be wary of the thing in the throne room…]

Effie cursed under her breath.

“That was not ominous at all.”

They made it to the gates of the throne room. The defenders gave them hell in front of them, stalling Effie and the men who followed her — but it was of no use, since they were only meant to be a diversion. The second group of prisoners should have already reached the throne room gallery and was about to make its descent — they were going to attack the last defenders from the rear.

Cassie’s warning hinted that things were not going to go according to plan, though.

In the end, Effie had to deal with the final group of thralls herself.

She met a very familiar person there, as well…

Her husband was the one commanding them.

He was putting up one hell of a fight, as well — enough to make a grown woman feel proud of her life choices.

‘Honey… I love you. I really do. But we are going to have a very, very long conversation about this when everything is over…’

“Subdue him!”

Her warriors finally overcame the defenders and managed to bring them down them — those of them who were still alive, at least. Her husband, too, was pushed to the ground and tied up.

He looked at her with a desperate expression:

“Effie… don’t! Lord Asterion…”

She looked at him for a few moments, then turned away with a pained expression.

‘That damn Dreamspawn is going to answer for this…’

“Thane. How long can the rear guard hold out?”

Saint Thane hesitated for a bit, then shook his head.

“Not long.”

Effie studied the gate.

The second group should have already passed through them from the other side. The fact that they had not appeared meant that there was something protecting Bastion apart from the thralls she and the prisoners had defeated.

‘A Saint? Or something worse?’

Effie took a deep breath.

In truth, she didn’t feel too hot. In fact, she was barely standing — her condition had already been dreadful when she escaped from the dungeon, and immediately diving into a fierce battle did not make it any better.

Her soldiers were not the only ones who kept moving on nothing but sheer willpower.

Could she take out a Saint in this condition? The answer was obvious…

She would if she had to.

“Thane…”

Before Effie could finish the sentence, something rolled out slowly of the half-opened gate.

Her expression turned somber.

It was a head… a severed head of one of the prisoners who were supposed to take the throne room.

Effie sighed, then looked at her soldiers.

“Listen up, men! Split into two teams. One team will watch the prisoners, the other will join the rear guard and hold out for as long as they can. Meanwhile, I will pay a visit to the throne room and sort out whoever is waiting for us there. Understood? Go!”

She remained motionless for a few moments, then tightened her tourniquet and walked through the gate.

There…

An older gentleman in neat clothes was sitting on the steps of the throne, surrounded by a horrid mess of severed bodies and spilled blood.

Effie frowned.

“Huh? I know you.”

The old man looked at her silently, making her frown deepen.

“Aren’t you Sebastian, the old butler of the Valor family?”

The old man smiled.

“Indeed, that is what I am called.”

Effie studied him carefully, using her intuition to figure out his Rank and Class. Most Awakened developed a gut feeling for these things over time — if they lived long enough — albeit it was not always precise.

“So what, have you been a hidden Saint all along? Goodness gracious. What a cliche.”

The old butler chuckled.

“A Saint? No… not quite.”

Effie’s expression turned somber. The man was claiming not to be a Saint, and by judging by his tone, he didn’t mean that he was a mere Master. He couldn’t be a Sovereign, though, which meant…

The old butler nodded.

“I’d have to be a human to be a Saint. But I am not… even though a few parts of me came from humans. Initially, I was a homunculus created by Lord Warden to protect his family — oh, but of course, Young Master Anvil modified me extensively later on.”

Effie blinked a few times, then tilted her head a little.

“You’re a… Supreme Demon, aren’t you? Rather, you are a golem equal in strength to a Supreme Demon.”

The homunculus shrugged.

Effie remained silent for a bit, then gritted her teeth and spat:

“Are you kidding me?! Then what the hell were you doing when we were defending Bastion from Mordret?!”

He looked at her with a hint of reproach.

“Even if Lord Warden is gone, my task is to protect the Valor family, Lady Athena. Young Master Mordret is a part of the Valor family, as is Young Lady Morgan. I couldn’t intrude on their spat, could I?”

Effie stared at the golem in disbelief, reminding herself that the thing in front of her was not technically alive… or even sentient, let alone sapient. It was merely a masterful imitation of a living being, only slightly different from the Echoes the Spellsmiths of Clan Valor used to create. In fact, even if it was more powerful, it was in many senses more primitive than those Echoes.

If there was a conflict between reality and the tenets imbued into its enchantments by Warden of Valor, it could not think of a way to resolve it. So it could do nothing while Mordret and Morgan were trying to kill each other.

Glancing at the gruesome carpet of severed bodies littering the floor, Effie inhaled deeply.

“Now… let’s be reasonable, old man. Let’s talk it out. You say that your task is to protect the Valor family, right? Then why are you are you helping Asterion destroy it?”

The old butler smiled.

“Lord Asterion only means well. Lord Asterion will save Valor… Young Master and Young Lady will be safe under the benevolent care of Lord Asterion. He is a benefactor of the Valor family.”

Effie studied him for a few long moments, then let out a tired sigh.

“You know what? Fuck being reasonable. Being reasonable has never worked out well for me, anyway.”

She rolled her shoulders and pointed to a golden weapon lying on the stone steps near the homunculus.

“That’s my spear, bastard.”

A wolfish grin twisted her bloodied lips.

“I suggest you hand it over yourself…”