The blade didn't steer us wrong. Within minutes, the character of the tunnels changed. The piles of bones got deeper. Thigh-deep in places. We had to wade through them. The skulls in the walls seemed to be watching us more intently.
Then we saw it. An archway up ahead, larger than the others. It wasn't made of rough stone. It was carved from something dark and polished, like obsidian. The bones here weren't scattered; they were arranged. Stacked into grim pillars flanking the entrance.
The Azure Blade's light died down, its job done. The pull on my Essence stopped.
We stood at the threshold. The air coming from the archway was freezing cold. It carried a silence so profound it felt like a physical pressure.
"This is it," Sasrir's voice was a whisper in my mind, all traces of wry humour gone. "Its' lair."
I reached out and placed my free hand against the cold stone of the archway. We'd touched the Saintess's statue outside. We'd survived the journey. We'd navigated the catacombs.
Now, it was time to reap what we'd come for.
"Alright," I breathed, my grip tightening on the Unshadowed Crucifix hidden within my soul. "Let's go say hello."
Stepping into the chamber, I saw the hole in the roof where the Saintess' hand had fallen through, into the circular chamber with columns of bones engraved in the walls and faded murals depicting their owners. And in the very middle was the fearsome Tyrant, the Fallen Shard Lord, the Lord of the Dead. With only one step, I was already beginning to regret my decision. Sunny had described the fight as one or two moves away from total death, and that was with Nephis, Kai, Effie and Seishan, not to mention ten of the best Hunters in the Forgotten Shore and Kido's poison. But then I reminded myself-we weren't here to kill it in one go. We had multiple attempts, so long as I avoided being hit myself.
Bit like Dark Souls, really.
No more talk. No more planning. It was time.
The moment we crossed the threshold into the vast, bone-filled chamber, I moved. My mind clicked into a cold, focused state. I called upon the Unshadowed Crucifix, and the familiar weight settled into my hands.
"Sequence 9: Bard," I whispered. A clear, resonant tone vibrated from the cross, a single pure note that echoed through the cavern. The mountains of bones around us rustled and shifted in response, disturbed by the holy sound.
"Sequence 8: Light Supplicant." A soft, golden glow settled over me like a mantle. Next to me, I felt Sasrir's presence solidify slightly as the blessing dampened the oppressive, deathly aura around us.
"Sequence 6: Notary," I declared, my voice ringing with authority I didn't truly feel. "God says light is stronger here! God says shadow is sharper here! God says bone is brittle and weak!"
The effect was immediate. The air itself seemed to sharpen. The golden light around me brightened. Across the chamber, the massive pile of bones that was the Lord of the Dead shuddered. A deep, grinding rumble echoed from within it.
That was our cue.
Sasrir detached from my shadow in a silent, liquid motion. He didn't make a sound as he flowed across the floor, a patch of living darkness slinking through the deeper shadows cast by the piles of bones. He was going for its own shadow, a vast, distorted blot on the far wall.
The Tyrant took notice. Not of Sasrir, but of me. The light from the Crucifix was a beacon in its dark domain. An insult. A challenge. The central mound of bones heaved upwards, forming a crude, gigantic torso. Skulls clicked into place for eyes. Arms of fused femurs and spines formed, slamming down on the ground with a sound like cracking stone.
It was focused entirely on me. Perfect.
I saw Sasrir reach its shadow. His darkness began to merge with it, seeking to seize control, to lock the abomination in place.
That's when it noticed.
A psychic roar of pure fury blasted through the chamber. It wasn't a sound; it was a pressure in the brain. The Tyrant hadn't seen Sasrir—it had *felt* him. Violating its space. Tainting its essence.
It forgot about me for a second. One of its massive bone arms swung not at me, but at its own shadow on the wall. At Sasrir.
Thirty jagged bone spears tore free from its form and shot downward, impaling the spot where the shadow lay. They hit the stone floor with devastating force, shattering on impact and sending shards of razor-sharp bone flying everywhere.
But they hit nothing. Sasrir, as a pure shadow, was untouchable by physical attacks. The spears might as well have been attacking a drawing.
My opening.
I raised the Crucifix high. "Light of Holiness!"
A concentrated beam of pure, searing sunlight lanced from the relic and struck the center of the bone mass. The effect was instantaneous and vicious.
The Lord of the Dead didn't scream. It *screeched*. A soul-shivering sound of absolute, agonizing pain that felt like it was flaying my mind. The holy light wasn't just burning it; it was erasing it.
Where the beam struck, the bones didn't burn or blacken. They simply… dissolved. Turned to fine, white ash that drifted away on an unseen wind. A huge chunk of its chest and part of one arm just vanished.
But the cost hit me a second later. A cold, draining sensation shot up the arm holding the Crucifix. It tingled violently, then went completely numb, like I'd slept on it wrong. I glanced down. The skin was pale, almost grey, the color drained from it. I'd paid a price for that shot.
Still, it was better than last time. I was still standing. I was still conscious.
The Tyrant's pain-fueled retaliation was swift. A dozen tentacles of woven ribs and vertebrae shot out from its body, whipping through the air toward me, trying to crush me into paste.
I threw myself backward, hitting the gritty floor and rolling behind a mound of skulls. The tentacles smashed into the pile, sending bones and dust exploding into the air.
"Okay, new plan! Chip damage!" I yelled to no one in particular.
I scrambled back, putting more distance between us. I focused on smaller, controlled bursts. I didn't need another mega-blast. I just needed to keep it distracted, keep it burning. I sent out fist-sized projectiles of fiery light, aiming for its "face," for the joints of its limbs. Each one sizzled as it hit, burning small holes and cracks in the bone armor. It was like trying to melt a glacier with a lighter, but it was something. It was keeping it focused on me.
Meanwhile, Sasrir was forced to disengage. Trying to hold a creature of such pure death in its shadow form was risking his own corruption. He flowed back, solidifying a dozen feet away from the thrashing monster.
He didn't waste a second. His hands moved in a blur, weaving shadows from the air around him. A bundle of small, viciously sharp daggers formed in the air before him. They weren't meant to break bone. They were needles. Soul-needles.
With a sharp gesture, he flung them forward. They flew silently, unerringly, and sank into the Tyrant's form not with a physical impact, but by simply phasing into the spaces between its bones.
The result was different. The monster didn't screech in pain. It… *stuttered*. Its frantic movements seized up for a full two seconds. A full-body tremor wracked its frame. The soul damage wasn't massive, but it was a profound shock to its system. A stunning, neural overload.
The bone tentacles trying to dig me out of my cover went slack.
It was a tiny window. But in a fight like this, a window was everything.
I popped up from behind the skulls, the Crucifix already aimed. "Keep it busy, Sassy!" I shouted, pouring more Essence into another, smaller blast of purifying light.
The fight had begun. And for the first minute, at least, we were still in it.
...
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