ConsolationChapter TextDeep underground, inside a heavily guarded chamber, a young woman with silver hair lay asleep within a transparent machine that sustained her fragile body. Pale and gaunt, her features were washed in the cold glow of medical lights, carved by sharp shadows cast by humming machinery.
The room itself was quiet and sterile. The steady drone of life-support systems formed a muted backdrop, occasionally interrupted by the soft chirp of monitoring equipment before silence reclaimed the space.
Near the pod stood a blind girl with piercing blue eyes. Her posture was still, her expression empty, etched into the delicate lines of a beautiful face. If not for the elegant rapier resting at her side, one might have mistaken her for one of the Hollows kept on the lower levels of the hospital complex.
The door never opened.
Nevertheless, another presence emerged.
A young man stepped out of the shadows, pale-skinned, his dark eyes sharp and cruel. He crossed the room with silent, measured steps and stopped on the opposite side of the transparent coffin.
For a long moment, he simply stood there.
Then he looked down at the sleeping girl beneath the glass.
For a heartbeat, his face twisted violently. Grief, fury, fear, and longing surged together in his eyes—only to vanish an instant later, sealed behind a mask of cold indifference.
Sunny stared at Nephis for a long time, fighting to steady himself. He had known this would hurt. Seeing her like this—weak, helpless—had always been inevitable.
He simply had not expected how much it would hurt.
…Nor how dark his thoughts would become.
'I could kill her right now. One strike with the Moonlight Shard, and I'd have my revenge. One less person who could wrap a collar around my neck...and that would only leave two.'
No.
He couldn't.
First, because there was no certainty that killing her body would truly end her. Just as Hollows existed—souls destroyed, bodies left behind—there were also the Lost: people whose bodies had died in the waking world, leaving their souls trapped in the Dream Realm.
That, Sunny suspected, was precisely why those who wanted Changing Star dead had sent Caster after her in the Dream Realm instead of infiltrating the Academy.
And second—perhaps most importantly—he simply could not bring himself to harm Nephis.
Not again. Not anymore. And not… not like this.
'Cassie, on the other hand…'
With a dark scowl, Sunny shifted his gaze to the blind girl.
As if sensing it, she turned slightly.
"Hello, Sunny."
He stared at her, his eyes blazing.
"What? You can see now?"
Cassie hesitated, then slowly shook her head.
"No. But… something like that."
A wild grin spread across his face.
"Congratulations. Truly. You won't be useless anymore, at least."
He knew the words would wound her.
That was precisely why he said them.
Cassie did not respond. Her gaze remained fixed on nothing, cold and distant. But Sunny was not fooled. He knew her too well to miss the ocean of pain hidden beneath that stillness.
'Good. Suffer. You deserve it.'
He opened his mouth to accuse her—then forced himself to stop. He needed control.
Swallowing the rest of his fury, Sunny clenched his jaw and spat:
"How? How did you know?!"
Cassie paused before answering quietly.
"I'm not quite sure myself."
His eyes widened, and then he laughed. "Not quite sure? What game are you playing now, Cassie? Huh? You got a Memory that can dig aroundmy head? Did you pry your dirty, treacherous little fingers into my brain?!"
"I heard you say it," Cassie revealed when he finished his outburst, but that just made Sunny even more confused. And angry. "Say it? When the fuck did I ever say it, Cassie?"
"I don't know," she shrugged. "I just know that, at some point across the past or future, you said your True Name out loud. And I was shown that moment in a vision."
Sunny stood frozen, her words echoing in his mind.
'Vision… she knew from the very start? From the moment she dreamt underneath the Soul Devourer?'
The memory struck him like a blade. Cassie, crying and shaking as she tried to rouse him from the mind=hex, chanting "seven, seven, the answer is seven!" while his sturggling mind failed to compte until it was nearly too late. Had she known, even then?
Standing in the underground chamber, Sunny felt like laughing and screaming all at once.
'So that's it. That's what destroyed me. One vision. Just one—and it was enough.'
It almost felt as though the Soul Devourer had taken revenge from beyond the grave.
Well, the Nightmare Creature with an insidious powr wasn't actually dead from what Sunny had gathered, but killing its guardian thrall and setting it ablaze had probably wounded it badly. Maybe this was his comeuppance for the act.
He turned his burning gaze back to Cassie.
"So that's why you were waiting for me back then. Why you gave me the Eternal Spring. You were saying goodbye. You knew."
Cassie faced him slowly.
"Yes. I did."
Sunny lowered his head, fists trembling.
"You knew. If you knew—then why didn't you try to change it?! Why?!"
Her composure shattered.
Pain, anger, and grief twisted her face as she cried out, her voice raw and bleeding:
"Didn't try?! I tried everything! Everything I could! But no matter what I did, the future never changed. It stayed the same—or worse, my attempts only made it feel more inevitable!"
She turned away, shoulders shaking, hands clenched tightly.
"I was the first to understand what the Crimson Spire vision meant. Shadows devouring a dying angel. I understood it that very day."
Closing her eyes, Cassie spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Don't you remember? I asked you to promise to always protect her. And what did you say?"
Sunny remembered.
"…No. I said no."
A fragile smile trembled on Cassie's lips.
"Yes. And that's when I knew I had to choose. And I did. I chose Neph."
She hugged herself, shivering.
"I betrayed one of my best friends to save the other. I told myself it wouldn't be so bad. That if I helped Neph, maybe both of you would survive. But I knew that was just one possible outcome. Deep down, I knew."
Her voice broke.
"I betrayed you. And for what?"
A bitter laugh escaped her.
"For nothing. I betrayed my best friend and still saved no one. I couldn't change fate."
Sunny stared at her, then snarled:
"That's it? That's your excuse? Do you want me to pity you?"
His eyes gleamed with fury.
"After everything I did for you. After I saved you again and again, treated you like my sister—this is how you repaid me? By handing my greatest secret to Nephis so she could use it when the time came?"
Cassie said nothing.
"Do you even understand what you took from me?!"
She hesitated, then whispered:
"I didn't know how it would happen. I only knew it would happen in the Spire. So I gave her your secret… so she might live."
Sunny laughed once—then fell silent.
The room grew unbearably still.
At last, he spoke again, quietly.
"I understand. Rationally. You were forced to choose between betrayals. And you chose Neph—the one who was there first. The one who saved you when I would have walked away."
His gaze hardened.
"But understanding doesn't mean forgiveness."
He looked at her with cold finality.
"Go to hell, Cassie. I never want to see you again."
Sunny turned away from her and walked toward the shadows at the edge of the room. His figure blurred, darkening as it merged with the dim corners of the underground chamber, started to leave the chamber.
Cassie stood alone beside the sleeping pod, motionless.
The low hum of the machinery continued, steady and indifferent, as if nothing had happened at all.
Bonds of friendship were fragile things.
Painfully difficult to build.
Terrifyingly easy to destroy.
Sometimes, all it took was a single choice.
But just before Sunny vanished entirely, Cassie spoke up.
Her voice cut through the shadows—thin, trembling, but sharp enough to stop him.
"Do you think I wanted this?"
Sunny froze.
Cassie's hands clenched at her sides, fingers digging into her palms as if pain were the only thing anchoring her to the room.
"Do you think I wanted to be blind?" she demanded, her composure finally splintering. "Do you think I wanted to live my life drowning in things I can't see, futures I can't escape, watching everyone I care about walk toward their deaths while I stand there helpless?"
He turned slowly.
Cassie laughed, brittle and breaking.
"I see endings, Sunny. Not paths. Not choices. Endings. Do you know what that's like? Knowing how things will end but never being able to stop them? Never being sure whether opening my mouth will save someone or kill them faster?"
Her voice rose, shaking.
"I was terrified every single day. Terrified of you. Terrified of Neph. Terrified of myself. Every vision felt like a verdict, and every time I tried to change one, it only twisted tighter around my throat."
Sunny's eyes burned. "Don't pretend this was about fear. You chose her."
"Yes!" Cassie shouted back. "I did! Because someone had to!"
She took a step forward, tears streaking down her face.
"You think I didn't care about you? You think you were disposable to me? You were only one who looked at me in the Academy the only one who pitied me enough to sit at the same table! The one who protected me without expecting anything back. I trusted you. I depended on you. I—"
Her voice cracked.
"I loved you both. And that's why this tore me apart."
Sunny laughed harshly. "Loved me? You call this love?"
Cassie shook her head violently. "You don't understand. You refused to choose. You always refused. I begged you under that tree. And you stood there and said 'no' and walked away from responsibility like you always do. And when you did that—when you wouldn't choose—I had to."
Her eyes blazed, unfocused yet piercing.
"I had to choose for you."
That was it.
The last fragile thread of restraint snapped.
Sunny erupted.
"You had no right!" he screamed. "You had no right to choose anything for me! Do you have any idea what I gave up for you? What I did for you?!"
His voice echoed violently off the metal walls.
"I carried you. I fed you. I fought monsters for you. I bled for you. I killed for you! I kept you alive when everyone else would've left you behind—and you call that refusing responsibility?!"
He pointed at her, shaking.
"You're alive because of me. You had a future because of me. And you repaid that by selling me out the first chance you got!"
Cassie screamed back, raw and unrestrained.
"I didn't sell you out—I tried to save her! And I tried to save you too, damn it! You think I didn't look for futures where you survived? I looked until it nearly broke my mind! There were none where you stayed the same!"
Sunny snarled. "So you decided I was acceptable collateral."
"I decided I couldn't watch Neph die!" Cassie shouted. "I decided I couldn't live with myself if I did nothing again!"
Sunny's shadow flared, writhing along the walls.
"You betrayed me first," he roared. "You chose her first. You always did."
Cassie laughed hysterically through her tears.
"And you abandoned me first! You said it yourself—you would've left me to die. You made that choice long before I ever made mine!"
They stood there, screaming, voices breaking over one another—years of fear, resentment, loyalty, and love tearing free at once.
"You used me!" Sunny shouted.
"You hid from the truth!" Cassie screamed.
"You stabbed me in the back!"
"You forced my hand!"
"You're a traitor!"
"And you're a coward!"
The words cut deeper than any blade.
Finally, Cassie's strength gave out. Her shoulders slumped, her voice collapsing into a hoarse whisper.
"I didn't want to be the first to betray," she said. "But someone always had to be."
Sunny stared at her, breathing hard, eyes burning with something far more painful than rage.
"…No," he said quietly. "You just made sure it wasn't you."
Sunny was tired.
The fury that had kept him upright, that had sharpened his thoughts and fueled his cruelty, bled out of him all at once, leaving behind a hollow, aching exhaustion. His shoulders sagged. His breathing slowed. Whatever storm had been raging inside him collapsed into something colder, denser.
He looked at Cassie.
There was no confusion left. No sorrow. No hesitation.
Only hatred. And spite.
"So that's it," he said quietly. His voice was flat, scraped raw. "This is what it comes down to."
Cassie flinched at the sound. She opened her mouth, as if to speak again, but Sunny did not let her.
"You chose," he continued. "And now you get to live with it."
He took a slow step back, shadows already beginning to coil around his feet. His eyes never left her face.
"You know what happens to her now, don't you?" he asked softly. "To Nephis."
Cassie's lips parted. Her breath caught.
Sunny smiled.
Not wide. Not wild.
It was thin, precise, and utterly merciless.
"She's alone," he said. "No cohort. No allies. No one watching her back. No one to share water with when her throat burns. No one to keep her awake when exhaustion starts dragging her under."
Cassie shook her head weakly. "Sunny… stop—"
"Alone," he repeated, savoring the word. "Trapped in the Dream Realm. No safe haven. No resupply. Just endless ground to cross, endless monsters to kill. And eventually? She'll get tired. Everyone does."
His voice lowered.
"She'll starve. She'll thirst. And when she's too slow to raise her sword, something will tear her open. Slowly, if she's unlucky."
Cassie staggered back as if struck.
"And she'll die there," Sunny went on, cold and relentless. "Not as a hero. Not as a savior. Just another corpse for the abominations to fight over."
Silence swallowed the room.
Sunny's eyes burned brighter.
"And do you know the best part?" he asked. "She did this to herself."
Cassie looked up at him, horror etched into her face.
"Because you forsook me," he said. "And she enslaved me."
The words fell like a verdict.
"I would have followed her," Sunny continued, his voice trembling now—not with emotion, but with something darker. "I would have bled for her. Died for her, even. I did everything short of surrendering my soul willingly."
He laughed, low and broken.
"And then she took it anyway."
Cassie's knees buckled. She caught herself against the pod, fingers white against the glass.
"You took everything from me," Sunny said hoarsely. "My trust. My freedom. My future. And you still have the nerve to stand there and tell me you had no choice?"
He leaned forward slightly, shadows writhing around his frame like living things.
"You had a choice," he hissed. "You just decided I was the easiest one to sacrifice."
Cassie's voice broke. "Sunny… please…"
That was when he snapped.
"Die," he said.
The word was quiet. Absolute.
"Die slowly," Sunny continued, every syllable steeped in abyssal malice. "Die screaming. Die regretting every single decision that led you here."
Cassie sobbed.
"I hope you live long enough to understand what you did," he went on. "Long enough for it to rot inside you. Long enough to replay this moment again and again while everyone you tried to save with your precious visions is gone. I hope the worst you have ever seen come true, and that it leaves you for last."
His eyes were empty now.
"And when your end finally comes," he finished, "I hope it's painful. I hope you're alone. And I hope your last thought is that you deserve it."
The shadows surged up around him.
Cassie reached out blindly, fingers grasping at empty air.
"Sunny—!"
He was already gone.
The room fell silent once more, filled only by the indifferent hum of machines and the quiet, broken sound of Cassie's breathing as she stood alone beside the sleeping girl she had chosen.
The door swung open with a hydraulic hiss.
Cassie spun instinctively, raising a hand to her face—not to shield her eyes, but to wipe away the tears streaming down her cheeks. She felt the light from the corridor spill into the room like a physical thing, sharp and invasive. Footsteps followed, measured and unhurried.
She couldn't see them.
Why couldn't she see?
Panic surged, sudden and suffocating. Her breathing hitched as her fingers curled uselessly in the air—until her hand brushed against the hilt of Quiet Dancer.
Silver light flared across her vision.
Just once.
Just enough.
Cassie exhaled shakily.
"Adam…"
He reached her before she could finish the word. Strong arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her firmly into his chest. Cassie made a weak, reflexive attempt to pull away, but Adam only tightened his hold, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other steady and warm against her spine.
"Shh," he murmured. "It's all right. I've got you."
That was all it took.
Cassie collapsed.
Her strength vanished as though someone had cut invisible strings. She sagged against him, shaking violently, sobs tearing out of her chest in ragged bursts.
"It's my fault," she choked.
Adam didn't respond immediately. He simply held her, rocking her gently, brushing his fingers through her hair.
"It's my fault," she said again.
And again.
Five times, each repetition more broken than the last, until the words blurred together into a hoarse mantra. Her body trembled so hard that Adam feared she might lose consciousness, but somehow she stayed upright, clinging to him as though he were the only thing anchoring her to reality.
"It's not your fault," Adam whispered at last.
Cassie stiffened in his arms.
"It is!" she cried, the words barely intelligible through tears and mucus. "It was my vision! I told Nephis—I didn't tell Sunny—I gave her his True Name! I did that! I did it!"
Her fists struck weakly against his chest.
"It's all my fault!"
Adam shook his head, his voice firm but gentle. "You did the best you could."
"No!" she wailed.
"What else could you have done?" he pressed quietly. "You are not a cryptologist. You are not omniscient. No one else could have done better."
She shook violently against him.
"Cassie," Adam continued, lowering his voice, grounding it. "Your power is a gift. But it is also a Flaw—just like your blindness. And Flaws are not meant to be easily overcome. They exist to hurt us. To limit us."
She sobbed into his chest, her grief soaking through his shirt, but gradually, the force of it lessened. Her breathing slowed. After several seconds, she pulled her forehead back weakly.
Her hair clung damply to her skin. Her face was red and swollen, eyes unfocused and glassy.
"You were wrong," she whispered.
Adam frowned slightly. "Wrong about what?"
"You were wrong," Cassie said again, shaking her head faintly. "My visions… they weren't just stress. They weren't dreams. They were real."
Her voice trembled.
"They tried to warn me. And I ignored them. I blocked them out and let Fate happen without trying… without fighting it."
Her composure crumbled again.
Adam reacted instantly, placing a hand gently but decisively over her mouth. Tears and breath dampened his palm, but he did not flinch. He leaned down until she could feel his gaze, steady and unyielding.
"Do not say another word like that," he said quietly. "I will not stand here and let you tear yourself apart."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"It was you," Adam continued, his tone measured. "You who led Changing Star and Sunless to the Dark City. You who uncovered the location of the Lord Shards—in two months, Cassie. It took me more than a year."
Her breath hitched.
"You helped design the Sleeper Army," he went on. "You maximized their effectiveness against the Spire. Your visions saved countless lives."
She whispered against his hand, voice barely audible. "But they cost me the two people I care about most."
Adam pulled her close again, holding her firmly, rocking her as though she were a frightened child.
"Kai is alive," he said softly. "Athena is alive. Aiko is alive. The Handmaidens—many of them barely older than you—are alive. Because of you."
She went still.
Adam eased back just enough to look at her face. His expression was earnest, unwavering.
"You did nothing wrong," he said. "And you do not need to apologize for it."
Cassie blinked.
"I… I don't need to apologize?"
"No," Adam murmured, leaning close to her ear. "You don't."
His voice grew warmer, smoother.
"You acted correctly. You acted decisively. You performed better than anyone else could have."
She stared at him, breath shallow.
"Better than Sunny," Adam added quietly. "Even better than Nephis."
As he spoke, Cassie sensed something shift. The silver in her fractured vision deepened—gold flooding in at the edges. Adam's blue eyes gleamed, his pupils narrowing into slits, dilating and contracting subtly as he spoke.
"And if," he continued, voice honeyed and slow, "you ever feel that you cannot bear what you are seeing… if you ever feel alone…"
His hand pressed gently between her shoulders.
"My shoulder will always be here."
Cassie was silent for a long moment.
Then she gave a weak, uneven laugh.
"Is that supposed to cheer me up?"
Adam's lips curved faintly. "Did it?"
She shook her head, then nodded, then frowned. "No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know."
"And that," Adam replied calmly, "is perfectly acceptable."
He rested his chin lightly against her hair.
"We were given reason not to know everything—but to seek understanding. The journey matters more than the destination, Cassie. In time, you will see that."
She did not answer.
Instead, she leaned into him, resting her head against his chest. Her tears slowed, drying as they soaked into fabric. Minutes passed in silence.
Then Adam noticed her breathing even out.
Cassie had fallen asleep.
He glanced down at her, and the gold faded from his eyes, returning them to blue. Carefully, he shifted her, easing her down so her back rested against the wall. She did not stir.
His gaze dropped to Quiet Dancer at her hip, the Echo lying still and inert.
"You would probably pierce my throat if I tried anything," Adam said mildly.
The rapier vibrated once, faintly.
Adam chuckled under his breath.
"Yes," he said. "That's what I thought."
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Terms and Conditions-IChapter TextSitting on the floor with his back pressed against the locked door of his room, Sunny stared into the dimness ahead, unmoving.
His heart felt hollow.
He had spent most of his life alone. A year ago, he had entered the Dream Realm alone. And now—after everything—he was alone once more.
Yet there was a profound difference between never having something and losing it.
Before, solitude had been natural. Familiar. Even comfortable, in a grim way. Now, it was unbearable. Now that Sunny had tasted genuine companionship—trust freely given, affection unguarded—existing without it felt like torture. As though a raw wound had been torn open in his soul, still bleeding where he himself had severed the bond that tied him to Cassie.
One of the very few people he had ever truly cared about.
Hurting her had felt justified. Necessary, even. For a fleeting moment, it had almost felt good.
But that feeling had not lasted.
Instead of relief, all it left behind was more pain.
Sunny closed his eyes briefly.
No matter how much it hurt, he did not regret what he had done.
Some things could not be taken back. Some lines, once crossed, demanded suffering in return. Perhaps this was simply the price.
Sometimes, pain was unavoidable.
Sometimes, pain was necessary.
Now, he was completely alone.
So was Cassie.
And somewhere, far away in the Dream Realm, Nephis was alone as well.
The three of them had accomplished something no one else could.
And they had paid for it dearly.
'What a fiasco.'
A bitter breath escaped his lips.
Who would have imagined that one day he would escape the Forgotten Shore, grow vastly stronger than he had ever dared to hope, uncover secrets that shook the foundations of the world—
Only to end up sitting on the floor of a dark room, feeling utterly miserable.
With a resentful grimace, Sunny shook his head.
'Enough.'
Enough wallowing.
Self-pity would not fix anything. It never had.
He had things to do. Plans to make. The horrors of the Forgotten Shore were behind him, but that did not mean safety. New threats were already forming, looming just beyond the horizon.
First and foremost—he was no longer free.
Sunny grimaced.
How Adam had learned his True Name still eluded Sunny.
No matter how many times he turned the memory over in his mind, he could not find the fracture where that knowledge should have leaked. Sunny was meticulous with his secrets—fanatical, even. He had guarded his True Name more fiercely than his own life.
And yet Adam knew it.
The realization gnawed at him.
He did not ask Cassie.
He did not trust himself to.
If he ever learned that she had told the blond priest as well—if she had handed that last, sacred fragment of him to another person—
Nothing in either world would have been able to stop him from driving the Midnight Shard through her heart.
The thought did not frighten him.
That frightened him most of all.
The emotions Cassie stirred in him were violent, contradictory, and exhausting—a snarled knot of longing, resentment, loyalty, and fear that refused to loosen no matter how much he pulled at it. Even now, when he tried to excise her from his thoughts, she lingered like a phantom ache.
Adam, on the other hand, was conspicuously absent.
Sunny had not seen him once since everything had fallen apart. He knew the man was still around—he had heard that he was meeting with figures from the Governmant and various Legacy Clans, corraborating with the other survivors, handling interviews and questions...but the man seemed to be deliberately keeping himself from Sunny's view.
That realization sat poorly with him.
Adam was not the sort of man to shy away from discomfort. If he was keeping his distance, it was intentional. Calculated. Whether it was caution, strategy, or something more opaque, Sunny could not tell.
He had not seen Sasrir either.
At first, Sunny had assumed the two absences were unrelated.
He was wrong.
In the days following his return, Sunny had quietly gathered information. Not by asking questions—that was too obvious—but by listening, observing, and letting shadows do what shadows did best.
What he found was troubling.
Sasrir was not in the Academy.
He was not listed in any Awakened registry. Not civilian. Not military. Not independent.
He did not officially exist.
Rogue Awakened were rare, but not unheard of. Some avoided registration for ideological reasons. Others vanished into the fringes of human territory, carving out obscure lives in forgotten settlements.
But this was different.
There were no traces. No half-remembered reports. No sealed files Sunny, with his newfound prestige as an official Awakened, could sniff at from the edges.
It was as though Sasrir had never been born into the system at all.
Sunny's instincts screamed at him that this was not coincidence.
Sasrir was a mystery in every conceivable way. Even after Sunny had stolen fragments of his fighting style through Shadow Dance—copied the movements, memorized the rhythm, internalized the lethal efficiency—he was no closer to understanding the man himself.
The darkness clinging to Sasrir was not merely metaphorical.
For the first three days and nights after returning, Sunny barely slept. Every flicker of movement set his nerves alight. Every shadow felt heavier than it should have been.
He half-expected to find Sasrir waiting for him—in the corner of his room, behind a doorway, reflected in dark glass.
But Sasrir left nothing behind.
No presence. No pressure.
Not even a whisper.
That absence was far worse than pursuit.
Still, Sunny was certain of one thing.
Sasrir was not far from Adam.
The two of them shared something deeper than convenience or alliance. It was an almost inseparable bond—quiet, unspoken, forged long before Sunny had ever crossed their paths.
And now—
Now Sunny would be joining them.
The thought surfaced unbidden, bitterly amusing in its inevitability.
A humorless smile tugged at his lips.
"Of course," he murmured into the darkness.
Now Adam had two shadows trailing him, didn't he? Lucky bastard.
Alone, but not truly free.
Not anymore.
When Nephis returned, Sunny had to be ready.
And when Adam finally chose to approach him—no longer through intermediaries, omissions, or deliberate absence—Sunny had to be prepared for that as well.
Sunny did not truly believe Adam would abuse the power he held over him. In fact, he was almost certain he would not. Not because of any bond between them—there was literall none, aside from their shared concern for Kai and Effie—but because, from everything Sunny had observed, such an act would be beneath Adam.
That, more than anything, unsettled him.
Adam wore benevolence as easily as he breathed. He postured as affable, merciful, and fair, and unlike so many others, the performance did not immediately ring hollow. Sunny had learned to recognize hypocrisy as one recognized rot—by instinct, by smell, by the way it clung to words and gestures no matter how polished they were. With Caster, the stench had been overwhelming.
With Adam, there was no such smell.
If anything, the man seemed… genuine.
He could be cold-blooded, certainly. His rationality bordered on inhuman at times, and he did not hesitate to make decisions that ruined lives if he believed the outcome justified the cost. But when he spoke of morality, it was not empty rhetoric. His principles were rigid, clearly defined, and—most importantly—he adhered to them with near-religious zeal.
Sunny had seen the proof.
The Settlement. The Host. The way Adam structured authority, enforced discipline, and distributed protection. He did not rule through chaos or indulgence. He ruled through order, consistency, and a very deliberate sense of fairness.
That was what made him dangerous.
Because men like that did not need to be cruel to be tyrants.
And yet—
Good men did not keep creatures like Sasrir at their side.
That contradiction gnawed at Sunny relentlessly.
Sasrir was not a blunt instrument. He was not a loyal hound or a simple enforcer. He was something else entirely—a natural born killer, a murderous wraith wrapped in human skin. No one with truly clean hands would tolerate such a shadow standing just behind them, listening to every word.
Which meant one of two things.
Either Adam was so open-hearted even someone like Sasrir was welcome to stand behind him.
Or Adam was just as bad-if not worse.
Neither possibility was comforting.
If Adam ever chose to exercise full control—if he ever decided that Sunny was no longer a person, but a resource, a weapon, or a tool to be bound—
Sunny would not submit.
He would not endure.
He would not survive as a slave.
If Adam ever truly tried to enslave him, there would be no compromise, no retreat, no clever escape.
One of them would die.
And Sunny intended to make absolutely certain that it would not be him.
The Hollow Mountains were deadly—but at least they were known. Humanity had maps, accounts, warnings. Faced with a choice between certain danger and absolute uncertainty, Nephis would likely choose the former. That was what Sunny had come to decide, as he mentally tried to trace the path Nephis would take, and calculate her odds of survival.
Nothing was more dangerous than the unknown.
'The unknown…'
Sunny frowned.
That word carried weight.
It represented another problem—no, another opportunity.
Because of his [Fated] Attribute, he had stumbled upon the legacy of Weaver. He had glimpsed fragments of truths buried beneath the Dream Realm: secrets of gods long dead, of daemons, of the Unknown itself.
What he had seen there both terrified and exhilarated him.
The Dream Realm was not merely a battlefield or a prison. It was a vast, ruined tapestry—one that connected the fallen gods, the daemons, the Unknown, and the Nightmare Spell into a single, incomprehensible whole.
The old rulers were gone.
But the Spell remained.
And humanity—Sunny included—had become unwilling threads woven into that design.
Sunny's deepest desire had always been simple: to control his own fate.
And that could not be achieved through strength alone.
Knowledge was the key.
Now that he knew where to look, he had to dig deeper. He had to understand the fate of the gods, the origin of the Spell, and the rules governing this broken world.
Perhaps—just perhaps—that was where the path to freedom lay.
…And then, there were the Sovereigns.
Sunny's expression darkened.
'Why does everything have to be so complicated…'
Why couldn't he just open a Memory Store, make obscene amounts of money, grow fat and complacent, and live peacefully ever after?
That had been the plan.
A good plan.
But recent revelations made it painfully clear how naïve that dream had been.
Caster's words echoed in his mind. There were figures hidden in the shadows—beings who ruled humanity from behind the scenes. Sovereigns. Domains. Powers so vast that entire Awakened clans bent to their will.
And somehow, Sunny had already been entangled in their affairs.
Unwillingly.
Dangerously.
He remembered Nephis's warning—that there were words whose mere knowledge could get someone killed.
Well.
He knew many of them now.
Sovereigns.
Lineages.
Domains.
Was he supposed to pretend ignorance and hope those beings never noticed him?
Or was he supposed to prepare for the inevitable day when their gaze finally turned his way?
Did he even have a choice, with his fate bound so tightly to Changing Star—who had been dragged into those hidden machinations by birthright alone?
'So bothersome.'
Sunny exhaled slowly.
What was he supposed to do?
What was the plan?
The answer, when it came, was almost laughably simple.
Learn everything he could about the Sovereigns—carefully, quietly, without ever letting the trail lead back to him.
Explore the past of the Dream Realm. Study the daemons, the gods, and the Unknown.
Rising to his feet, Sunny walked over to the desk and picked up a pen. On a piece of synthetic paper, he wrote:
[0/2000].
Then he summoned the runes and glanced at them before adding a second line:
[2749/3000].
The runes shimmered.
The number changed.
Sunny paused, then corrected it.
When he set the pen down, the paper read:
[0/2000] < [2773/3000].
He stared at it for a long moment.
"All right," he said quietly.
So this was it.
This was the plan.
From now on—
This was his purpose.
Of course, Fate would never be so kind as to let his have a moment of peace, and decided to throw a proverbial Cursed Titan at him.
The door swung open.
Sunny looked up with dark, hollow eyes, already drawing breath to snap at whoever had dared intrude. He was in no mood for courtesy, and even less for interruptions. The words were already forming on his tongue—
Then they froze.
A blonde figure stood in the doorway, framed by the pale light of the corridor beyond. A loose white robe hung from narrow shoulders, unadorned, almost monk-like in its simplicity.
Adam.
Sunny's fingers tightened against the edge of the cot.
Adam looked… different.
The beard was gone. That, at least, was not surprising. Sunny knew the Academy handled the bodies of Sleepers meticulously—hair trimmed, nails cut, wounds treated—preparing them for reintegration into the waking world. Still, without the beard, the illusion shattered.
He looked young.
Too young.
Eighteen, perhaps. No older than that. His skin carried a soft, healthy glow, the kind Sunny had only ever seen on children—on those who had not yet been ground down by hunger, terror, and despair. It was the face of someone the world had not truly bitten yet.
And yet—
The bronze crucifix still hung around his neck.
Sunny's eyes narrowed.
He had seen that crucifix blaze during the Siege of the Spire. He had seen its light scour abominations from existence, seen it shield dozens upon dozens of Sleepers from certain death. At least a hundred people owed their lives to it. And Sunny knew—he knew—that it was not merely an Ascended Memory, no matter how casually Adam had claimed otherwise.
Another lie.
Another deliberate omission.
Before the thought could fully settle, Sunny moved.
He lunged forward without warning, silver motes erupting into existence as Memories answered his call. Marble Saint manifested first, her towering stone form emerging with the weight and inevitability of a falling monument. Puppeteer's Shroud flowed over Sunny's body like living darkness, and the Midnight Shard slid into his hand, its edge humming with lethal promise.
Fully equipped.
Fully committed.
Sunny did not hesitate.
Attack.
The mental command snapped toward Saint as Sunny surged forward himself, channeling everything he had—rage, betrayal, exhaustion—into a single, murderous strike aimed squarely at Adam's head. He swung with full power, intent on splitting skull and thought alike.
The blade stopped.
Not against steel.
Not against stone.
It was caught by a tentacle.
Flowing gold—molten, luminous, alive—unfurled from beneath Adam's collar and wrapped around the Midnight Shard, gripping it mid-swing. The impact rang through Sunny's arm, jolting his bones. His eyes widened as he instinctively tried to wrench the weapon free.
Too slow.
A kunai flashed into existence in his other hand, summoned with practiced ease, and Sunny hurled it point-blank.
A wave of gold surged up like a living wall and swallowed the Memory whole.
Saint arrived an instant later.
Her heavy stone sword cut through the air with a thunderous whistle, carrying enough force to shatter walls. She brought it down in a brutal arc—
And a flood of gold erupted outward.
The blow was stopped dead.
Then Saint was thrown back.
Her massive body crashed into the far wall, stone cracking, fragments raining to the floor as she slid to a halt. Sunny staggered back instinctively, dismissing the Midnight Shard and resummoning it a heartbeat later, his mind racing.
Then he cursed.
Adam no longer wore a robe.
Liquid gold flowed over his body, sealing into place like living armor. Every inch of skin disappeared beneath the gleaming metal, smooth and seamless, radiant and oppressive. Just looking at it made Sunny's vision swim, a crushing pressure urging him to bow his head, to acknowledge something vast and absolute.
He knew that armor.
Gunlaug's armor.
The Transcendent set Sasrir had stolen.
And now it stood before him, worn by a man who also commanded a Transcendent Echo.
Sunny felt the imbalance immediately—felt it like a knife pressed against his throat. Adam wielded powers that dwarfed his own, while Sunny's arsenal was still firmly Awakened.
This was not a fight.
It was an execution that simply hadn't happened yet.
"Are you done, Sunless?" Adam asked.
His voice carried clearly through the fully enclosed helmet, calm and unstrained, as if nothing of note had occurred. "I didn't come here to fight you."
Sunny let out a harsh, bitter laugh. Hatred roared through his veins, mingling with bubbling darkness, his eyes burning as if lit from within.
"Oh yeah?" he snarled. "Then why did you come? To issue your first order, my dear master? What—was Sasrir too busy licking your boots, so you decided to come see your new pet yourself?"
"Sasrir isn't here," Adam said evenly.
The words cut through Sunny's tirade like a blade.
He stopped.
"…Huh?"
"He isn't here," Adam repeated. "Sasrir stayed behind to engage Changing Star. Neither of them made it back before the Gateway collapsed. He's trapped with her in the Dream Realm."
Sunny stared at him.
"Huh?" The sound slipped out again, empty and disbelieving. Then his expression hardened, jaw tightening. "No. I don't believe you. You're lying. Just like you lied to Nephis back then. Just like you lie about everything."
"Oh my," Adam said, and Sunny could hear the faint curl of schadenfreude in his voice even through the helmet. "Is that anger I sense? On behalf of Changing Star?"
He took a single step forward, the golden armor flowing soundlessly.
"Did you forget," Adam continued coolly, "that she was the first to try and enslave you?"
Sunny's teeth clenched.
"Or," Adam added, his tone sharpening just slightly, "are the instincts of being a dog so deeply engraved in your nature that you've already adapted?"
"…So," Sunny said hoarsely, lowering the Midnight Shard a fraction—though he did not dismiss it—"you caught my blade, shrugged off Saint, and walked into my room unannounced. All to tell me Sasrir is gone and Nephis is trapped with him, plus to insult me. Is that supposed to calm me down?"
"No," Adam replied evenly. "It is supposed to orient you."
Sunny barked out a laugh. "You really do talk like a priest."
"A habit," Adam said. "But it doesn't make my words a lie."
Sunny's gaze flicked to the bronze crucifix at his throat. "Funny. You seem to have told quite a few of those."
Adam did not take the bait. He inclined his head slightly instead. "You attacked me. That alone tells me more than any interrogation could."
"Oh?" Sunny sneered. "Enlighten me."
"You're afraid," Adam said calmly. "Angry. And you're still deciding whether you hate me more than you hate her."
Sunny stiffened.
"…Careful."
Adam's helm tilted, as if studying him. "You don't deny it."
Sunny's fingers tightened around the hilt of the Midnight Shard. "Don't talk like you're inside my head."
"I don't need to be," Adam replied without hesitation. "And frankly, neither did Nephis."
That hit harder than Sunny expected.
"You talk about her as if you know her," he muttered. "As if you have the right."
"I do," Adam said simply. "And so do you. Just not in the same way."
Sunny laughed, thin and hollow. "You mean I know her the way a slave knows a master?"
Adam shook his head. "No. You know her as someone who refuses to belong to anyone—yourself included."
Sunny stared at him, momentarily thrown off balance.
"…You really believe that?"
"I know it," Adam replied. "Which is why—even if I die, and your chain becomes available for someone else to grasp—I don't believe she would abuse her claim over you."
Sunny's eyes darkened into a seething black mass. "And what about you?"
"I also will not," Adam said. "Unless it becomes necessary."
No apology. No embellishment.
Just the statement.
Something ugly coiled in Sunny's chest. "You are a sick bastard."
"For not lying to you?" Adam asked calmly. "For refusing to pretend? I thought honesty was what you wanted."
"Then be honest," Sunny snapped. "Why me? How did you know my True Name?"
The gold of the armor rippled faintly, like a breath.
"Because I happened to be there," Adam said. "Nothing more."
Sunny scoffed. "Just happened? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Adam was silent for a moment, then spoke slowly.
"When Sasrir and I climbed the Spire to find you and Changing Star, we instead saw you falling—both of you—trying to kill each other. By the time we reached the ground, you were barely standing. I judged Nephis to be the greater threat and ordered Sasrir to immobilize her while I attempted to intervene."
Sunny's jaw tightened. "You heard her say it."
"Yes," Adam admitted. "But not all of it."
He removed his helmet, revealing calm blue eyes and an expression stripped of posturing. "I heard only the first two words. Sasrir cut her throat before she could finish, remember?."
"Then how did you know the last one?" Sunny demanded.
Adam looked at him silently, compassion flickering unmistakably in his gaze.
Understanding struck like a blade.
"Cassie," Sunny said.
"Yes."
"She told you," Sunny said coldly.
"I spoke with her," Adam corrected. "She was exhausted, frightened, barely holding herself together. I helped her calm down. As she was leaving, she muttered to herself. I tried not to listen—but my senses are not easily shut off. I heard another word. Then 'Light.'"
Sunny's voice dropped to a lethal whisper. "So she didn't tell you my True Name?"
"…Not intentionally," Adam said, and in the lighting of the room the Echo he wore reflected gold off his eyes.
The air felt heavier.
Sunny stepped forward before he realized he was moving. "I should kill you," he said softly. "Then her."
"I am aware," Adam replied calmly. "But you won't."
Sunny laughed, face twisting into something feral. "Oh yeah? And why is that? Because you'll force me? Order me to stand down?"
"No," Adam said. "Because you are not that kind of person."
He paused. "And because you couldn't kill me even if you tried."
"…You fucking piece of shit," Sunny hissed. "You orchestrated all of this."
"I watched a stage you built yourself," Adam replied evenly. "Cassie was no more guilty than you. If blame must be assigned, it rests with Changing Star."
Sunny looked away, jaw clenched. "Convenient. Blame the one who isn't here."
"It sounds cruel," Adam said. "But this disaster was born from coincidence, desperation, and the selfish resolve of a single girl. And I am not speaking of the blind one."
Sunny turned back sharply. "And Sasrir? What did he decide?"
At the name, Adam's tone shifted—not in posture, but in weight.
"He chose to stay," Adam said. "He chose to face Nephis rather than return."
Sunny stared. "You expect me to believe that was loyalty?"
"Yes," Adam said. "Loyalty—and faith. Things you do not understand yet. But you will. When you do, Sasrir will make sense."
Sunny exhaled slowly, choosing not to rise to it. "So what now?" he asked. "You have my True Name. Nephis is gone. Cassie is alone and probably tearing herself apart. Sasrir is lost."
Adam stepped closer, stopping just outside Sunny's reach.
"Now," he said, "you grow."
Sunny laughed bitterly. "That's your grand plan?"
"No," Adam replied. "There is nothing grand about survival. It is simply taking one step forward every day—until everything trying to kill you is behind you."
"And when Nephis comes back?" Sunny asked.
Adam hesitated.
"When she returns," he said finally, "the world will move. The Sovereigns will notice. The Clans and the Government will draw lines—official ones."
Sunny scowled. Of course Adam knew about the Sovereigns, he honestly wasn't even surprised. Who knew how many secrets this bastard kept? Or maybe he had been told by Seishan. Her mother was one of these "Sovereigns" after all.
"And me?" Sunny asked. "What am I meant to be?"
Adam faced him fully. "A variable. Someone currently insignificant, but capable of becoming a player."
"And you intend to help me," Sunny said flatly. "As compensation for what you've done to me?"
"Because the world needs people like you," Adam countered. "Unaligned. Unpolluted. Whether killers, lineage bearers, or something else entirely. If nothing changes, Earth will fall into the abyss that is the Dream Realm."
Sunny studied him, then spoke quietly. "If you ever use my True Name…"
"I expect you not to hesitate," Adam said, nodding once.
The golden armor receded, flowing back beneath the robe.
"One last thing, Sunless," Adam said.
"What?"
"You are not a dog. You are not a slave," Adam said. "But you are not free either. And the chains binding you extend far beyond your True Name."
"Oh, and repreentatives of the Great Clans will be arriving in two days. If you are willing to stick around until they leave, we can discuss the terms and conditions of your employment."
"Employment?" Sunny laughed at the mundanity of the word, but Adam just looked on. "Yes. I believe the word is less likely to trigger you than enslavement or bondage."
"Gods, just listen to yourself speak!" Sunny spat, and his dual shadows crept closer to him. On his skin, the tattoo representing Shadow Serpent flexed and darkened, like black water across his skin. "Talking like you're so much better than me!"
"Don't blame me for my Flaw, Sunless" Adam warned, and the words made Sunny pause. Seeing the confusion and interest in his eyes, Adam repeated his previous offer. "As I said, if you wait for a fe more days, we can have a proper conversation. If you want to leave, I won't stop you." Then he glanced in the corner.
"Oh, and you can keep Saint for now, but I will need her back eventually."
With that, Adam walked out of the room, door closing behind him before Sunny could respond. When Adam was gone, Sunny stood alone, heart pounding, the words echoing louder than the silence. He then registered what the man had said, about his freedom and true chains.
What the hell was he talking about?
The silence after Adam's words was thick enough to choke on.
Sunny stood where he was, shoulders tense, every muscle still coiled for violence. The Midnight Shard trembled faintly in his grip, silver motes shedding from its edge like dying sparks. Saint stood motionless at his side, her marble face turned toward the closed door, sword lowered but not dismissed—waiting for another command that did not come.
The door did not open again.
Sunny exhaled, slow and ragged, as though only now remembering how to breathe.
"…Chains," he muttered under his breath.
He let the Midnight Shard dissolve, the cold weight vanishing from his palm. For a moment, the absence felt worse than the blade itself. His hand clenched reflexively, fingers digging into empty air.
Not free.
The words echoed with infuriating clarity.
Sunny dragged a hand through his hair, pacing the length of the small room. His steps were uneven, too sharp, as though the floor itself had offended him. Every sentence Adam had spoken replayed in his mind, each one slotting neatly into place like a knife finding an old wound.
A variable.
A player.
Someone worth keeping alive.
"What a joke," Sunny scoffed, voice hoarse.
And yet—
He stopped pacing, leaning his forehead briefly against the cool wall. His shadow pooled beneath him, stretching unnaturally, its edges twitching in subtle, agitated motions that mirrored his thoughts.
Adam hadn't threatened him. Not once.
That, more than anything, unsettled Sunny.
He had expected coercion. Expected veiled orders, righteous condemnation, perhaps even sanctimonious pity. Instead, Adam had spoken to him as if Sunny were… equal. A flesh and blood person of the same standing as him, not a tool or disposible. Sure, he had been somewhat standoff-ish, but from what Sunny was lik, Adam treatedeveryone that way to some extent. If anything, that only made him more casual.
Sunny straightened, eyes narrowing.
"You're not free either, are you?" he murmured.
The image of Adam's eyes—blue, steady, filled with something uncomfortably close to compassion—rose unbidden in his mind. Not the gaze of a tyrant. Not even the gaze of a master.
The gaze of someone who believed in something no one else could see, and would do anything to chase it. In other words, an idealist.
Sunny hated idealists only slightly less than hypocrites.
Sunny clenched his jaw. He filed away Adam's mention of his Flaw, deciding to save it for later when he compiled a proper file on everything he knew about the blonde man.
Cassie's face surfaced next. Tear-streaked, hollow-eyed, muttering truths she never should have seen. He felt the old surge of rage twist in his chest, sharp and venomous—but it faltered, fractured by Adam's words.
She hadn't meant to betray him.
That didn't absolve her.
But it complicated things.
"Damn it," Sunny hissed, slamming his fist lightly against the wall.
Then there was Nephis.
Lost.
Alive.
With Sasrir.
The thought sent a cold spike through his spine. If Adam was telling the truth—and he had no reason to lie about this, not now—then Nephis wasn't merely surviving. If, for whatever reason, Sasrir and Nephis came to blows, he didn't know who would be the winner. Would they team up, or go their separate ways, or bleed each other into the sand until one collapsed?
Sunny laughed quietly, bitter and humorless.
"Of course," he muttered. "Of course you'd end up together."
Two fanatics in a dead world, each having sold their soul to an ideal-revenge for Nephis, servitude for Sasrir.
And him?
He sank down onto the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor as his shadow crept closer, brushing against his boots like a living thing.
Adam had been right about one thing, at least.
Sunny was far from untethered.
He had escaped the Forgotten Shore. He had grown stronger, faster, deadlier. He had clawed his way out of a nightmare that should have devoured him whole.
And yet the moment he reached safety, the chains had revealed themselves.
A True Name whispered at the wrong time.
A bond enforced by fate.
Powers and authorities moving far above his head.
Sovereigns.
Clans.
Gods long dead, and things far worse that weren't.
Sunny's lips curled into a thin, dangerous smile.
"Fine," he whispered into the dim room. "If that's how it is…"
He straightened, eyes hardening, mind sharpening into cold clarity.
If he wasn't free, then he would learn exactly how his chains were forged.
If he was a variable, then he would become an uncontrollable one.
And if Adam thought Sunny would simply grow in the direction he intended—
Sunny let out a soft, humorless chuckle.
"…Then he doesn't know me as well as he thinks."
The shadows around him stilled, obedient once more.
Outside, the Academy carried on as if nothing had changed.
Inside, Sunny began to plan.
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