Author's Note: Status Update & Fragmented Memories:
Hey everyone! I have a few things to share with you all.
First off, I want to sincerely apologize for the long delay in releasing new chapters for Divided By Light. A mix of life's interruptions and, frankly, my own challenges with the writing process slowed things down. It's been about a month and a half since the last update, and that falls entirely on me. I appreciate your patience more than I can say.
This chapter serves as a status update and a compilation of the "Fragmented Memories."
Important Clarity:
The memories below have been refined to align with the "Hell of Eternity" Nightmare Sunny challenged back in Chapter 10. Please note that the ending of Chapter 10 has been heavily altered to accommodate this new plan.
Contained here are all the Fragmented Memories in chronological order. These are the visions Sunny will recall the moment he challenges the Nightmare, ensuring they are no longer lost to him — or to you.
At this stage, these are essentially part of the current narrative foundation, so feel free to read through them or skip them if you prefer to let them unfold naturally.
If you're confused, frustrated, or just have some thoughts to share, please comment below! I'm here to listen and clear up any questions you might have.
Thank you for sticking with me. And again, my apologies.
. . .
Also, a quick reminder: Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint remains a heavy inspiration for this fic. You might notice some familiar elements from it used in this story.
And yes, the Khaslana dialogue in this chapter is very visible, I know! I've been playing a lot of Honkai: Star Rail lately, and he's easily my favorite character. Don't judge me, abeg!
—
The cycle of the pilgrim reaches its final shore, where currents of discarded time cease to flow. Before the God of Corruption he stands, while shifting silences and rot begin to grow. A haunting cackle issues from the master of the waste, where every hope has been erased by the friction of a tale retold.
「 H-ha... ha... h-haaa... What a m-magnificent and ep-pic... ad... venture! The pil-grim's journey r-reaches its end... and the t-truth behind the E-ever... ch-changing is ab-bout to be r-re... vealed... is that t-truly the c-case-e? I can pr-ractically t-taste the an-nticipation rot-tting in your g-guts, my pr-precious th-thing. 」
The God of Corruption smiled with a pleasantry that tasted like ash, looking upon the story of a tale retold again and again, forever bound to reach the same cold horizon.
「 N-no voice... tr-rails the fl-lame... the ec-choes of des-s-sire... O-only you d-do-o. I do n-not un-der... stand y-you... K-king of the O-outer G-gods. How l-long w-will you k-keep at th-this-s? Wh-when... w-will your w-will st-tart to f-f-fade into the p-perfect n-nothing I've pr-repared for y-you? 」
The King stood under the lightless sky, his nebulous mantle swaying in a space alien to the concept of air.
「 You know it never will. 」
「 Ah-h... O-of c-course... How c-could I f-for... get-t. Your c-concl-lusion was... 'E-eternity.' An E-eternity of r-recurr-rences-s... O-over the ed-dge... ag-gain... and ag-gain-n. I w-won't rem-mind y-you how m-many t-times you've r-reached the en-nd of the St-tory... but I w-will st-till p-place the ch-choice h-here bef-fore y-you-u... L-let me f-feed on that f-futility... 」
「 If you've lost count, let me tell you: this is the 137,438,691,328th ending. 」
The God of Corruption laughed, the sound making the darkness shiver.
「 Ah-h... ah-h-hhaa... h-haha! A p-perfect n-number of s-seventh-h! How p-poet-tic. Th-thank y-you f-for t-telling m-me... s-so let m-me rem-mind y-you-u... your n-name is S-sunless-s. Ah-h... b-but it d-does no-ot mat-t-ter. You and I b-both kn-now the tr-ruth-h... in al-l th-these b-billions of f-futile end-deavors-s... your c-concl-lusion has n-never ch-changed-d. If the out-t-t-come is in-nev... it-table... th-then wh-why no-ot sil-lence your c-cold and d-distant des-sire... and em-br-race y-your f-fate-e? L-let the c-corruption b-bless your s-soul. 」
The King remained silent for a long while.
「 Your s-silence l-lasts lo-onger th-than ev... er-r... K-king of the O-outer G-gods-s. Oh-h... or is it s-still 'D-demon of P-poss-s-sibility?' Per-rhaps ev-en 'L-lost fr-rom L-light-t?' Sh-shall I t-take th-that to m-mean the w-will you've h-held cl-lose ac-cross c-countless c-cycles-s... is f-fin-nally st-tarting to b-br-reak-k? I can f-feel the fr-fractures-s... 」
「 ...Break? Really now? No. 」
The King's voice took on a quality of hollow iron, resonant and cold.
「 No. The reason for my silence is... I'm simply disappointed. I've retrieved the memories from the me who still holds flame. And I remember every conversation before every choice you made in this very spot with him. 」
He took a step forward, the nebulous stars within his cloak shimmering with a chilling intent.
「 And yet, even after all this time, your arguments remain the same: Repetitive. Uninspired. So true to your want to pervert everything that you can barely hide your true desires. If you had any hope of breaking me, you should have spent those endless cycles refining your rhetoric. 」
The King stood tall, his presence dwarfing the master of rot.
「 You had infinite chances, billions even, to sway me into a future where you finally won… and yet, here we are. The score? 137,438,691,328 to 0. 」
「 So do tell me, Morpheus — am I really the one who has lost here? 」
「 ... 」
For a moment, the master of the waste was silent, the ticking of the decaying universe the only sound.
「 H-how t-ter-r-rible. It s-seems y-you have n-not b-been b-broken af-f-ter al-l. N-no m-matter-r. I h-have al-l the t-time and p-patience in the w-world. I can w-wait f-for y-you at the en-nd of an-n-nother-r W-worldline an-nother b-billion t-times… and an-nother b-billion af-f-ter th-that-t. 」
「 B-but y-you? Y-you w-will n-never es-s-scape y-your en-nding. Y-you can cl-laim v-victory ev-v-verytime, al-l y-you w-wish to-o. B-but w-we b-both kn-now — the m-moment th-that s-score sh-shifts fr-rom 0 to 1… Th-that is the m-moment I w-will c-consu-ume ev-verything. 」
「 ... 」
Suddenly, the King of Outer Gods seemed to laugh, the sound echoing with a jagged edge that caused the God of Corruption to stagger.
「 Sorry… sorry! It's just that… your incompetence disappoints me, but what truly makes me laugh is your utter lack of self-awareness! 」
「 Think about it. In these endless retellings of the same story, who is the one truly in chains? Who is one shackled to mindless vengeance against their own six siblings, mistaking their own want to make everyone just as miserable as themselves, for justice? The justice to confront their siblings… for foolishness? 」
The God of Corruption's expression shifted, the mask of fake pleasantry dissolving into a grotesque display of loathing and mounting fury.
「 Perhaps you're right. Maybe I should have tired of this futile struggle long ago. But even so, I will never accept the mercy of your release. 」
「 Because you… you are both prisoner to the Void and to me. And tell me, what right does a mere prisoner have to speak on fate and choice? 」
The King's voice rose, a clarion call that shook the foundation of Corruption.
「 What right does a mere prisoner have — to look upon my fury!? 」
In that moment, a single black line was struck across the horizon. The God of Corruption's head, for the 137,438,691,328th time, was severed from their shoulders. Even as the ichor spilled, they laughed from the void.
「 Y-you kn-now th-this is p-pointl-less-s. Y-you can k-kill m-me as m-many t-times as y-you w-wish-h... it w-will n-not ch-change-e. 」
「 Of course not. But I am tired of being measured against a worm the Void keeps as a pet. 」
「 And besides… I have already gained a hint as to how I can end this conclusion. So really… I just wanted to kill you one last time. 」
The horizon fractured then, the record of reality screeching into a messy blur of static.
—
In the sound of the final melody, the world blazed with a gold that blinded the blind. The visionary and the shadow believed the thought was bested, building a monument to a fate that had been broken. But an animal is most vicious when the blood flows, and the visionary and thought never saw the hunger of the cup. The Chalice of Want drank the world whole; the black tide claimed the Realms as doomsday's bell resounded.
「 Flow, black blood. Flow. Flow until you reach the gold. Converge into a world of desire that flows across the Sea into a world still talking. 」
Through the discarded data of eternal reoccurrences, the King of Outer Gods forced his existence into the tapestry. The Greedy Heaven fell without dignity, rent into fragments by hands that knew only the Shadow of death.
The Shadow required the light to stir a torrent, a madness capable of severing the anguish from reason.
Command the frozen tale to once again flow; the Shadow had grown weary of 'Eternity.'
—
The First Unholy Union, born of Sun and Heaven, lay whole. The Lord of the Abyss, the First Banished Light, looked upon the Indescribable Shadow with a an expression of thrill.
「 How esteemed must you be to seek out the Great Abyss personally! I never would have imagined I would be myself again. Indeed, I should express a debt of life to you... were your presence not such a harrowing expanse of Void. 」
They lingered in that shoreless vacuum for durations that stars use to die, exchanging narratives that spanned the tapestry of fate The Shadow unspooled the length and tale of his exhaustion, laying bare the friction of a hundred billion lives. The Light listened, drifting through the vacuum of the Shadow's grief, before offering a small meditation.
The Indescribable Shadow permitted no breath to be wasted on the stagnant air, his voice a hollow whisper traveling across celestial bodies that held no scent of brine or wind.
「 Abaddon, tell me your thoughts on the matter. I harbor a crushing uncertainty regarding the fruit of my labor. Having witnessed the entirety of my perpetual torment, do you truly believe that I — a petty deity shackled to the axiom of Eternity — possess the ability to rewrite the 'Conclusion' of my Story? 」
The Banished Light surveyed the cosmic loom, where a hundred billion rotations had converged into a solitary, immovable point of despair.
「 Your Conclusion is stone; it will not shift, I'm afraid. However, your inquiry is focused upon the wrong horizon. You ought to have asked if a version of you existing within the flow, granted the proper instruments, could find a different aperture. Within the countless cycles where you clutched the flame, the error was rooted in your very attempt to turn back. 」
「 …Explain the nature of this "error." 」
「 Because the law of the 'Conclusion's' is absolute: he remains the fixed point while the world recoils around him. You are the immutable anchor in a sea of retreat. And so, regardless of the frequency of your recurrences, the terminus of your narrative remains locked. You shall always arrive at 'Eternity.' 」
「 It is as I said. A regressor does not actually regress, but instead, everything else excluding him. And thus, no matter how many reoccurrences you go through, you will never change. No, I am in error. For this is not a matter of "Will." Instead, you are simply unable to change. 」
Abaddon rose as the constellations aligned within a shimmering ocean of choice, his silhouette a graceful rupturing of the starlight.
「 Yet, if you bequeath that 'Eternity' to another — using it as a mere component for a different being — then perhaps that witness may behold the miracle. I suspect you failed to grasp the cadence of the 'Song of the Fallen.' She did not imply you would walk free. She meant that every shattered iteration of yourself would bid you farewell, so that you might weave a miracle for another to inhabit. A provision of tools for a version of you who still possesses a tomorrow. 」
The King of the Outer Gods remained motionless. His agony was a span, a bridge of blood and shadow intended for an inhabitant he would never encounter. As the dream began to fray at the margins, the Shadow allowed a cold smile to manifest and released threads of star-writ light, dragging four divine souls from the weave of a Spell.
A graceful silhouette of luminescence and obsidian emerged, her beauty an aloof tragedy that defied the gaze.
A graceful figure of light and shadow whose beauty was an aloof tragedy appeared.
A master of mist and darkness spread harrowing wings.
A dread whisper flowed with the wind, and a master of lies stood behind a mask of polished wood.
「 Hope... Nether... Ariel... Weaver. I'm sorry for disturbing your slumber. Awakening from the peace of death is a vexing ordeal, yet your cooperation is what I need now. It is a lamentable circumstance that Rime and Mirage have been submerged too deeply within the Spell for a functional retrieval. You four, however, shall suffice for what I need. And I… have yet to take Lethe from the existence of Morpheus. 」
—
A thousand hopeless prayers resounded in the nascent deep, as hell was born of divine flame and harvested for fuel. A Divine Law was weaved, both improbable and cruel, to lock the boundaries of a dream.
And thus, with those every same laws broken, the Sea was breached, and a Seed was set forth across the Sea of discarded data to find the boy who must bear the world.
Abaddon's voice was like a pleasant breeze acting as a veil for a sun.
「 I find this fate... deeply lamentable. To compel an innocent to walk the jagged path of another's history is a terrible fate too ancient for any child to bear. 」
Hope stood with her emerald eyes fixed on a distant, invisible horizon, her voice carrying a chill that was opposite to her beauty.
「 Cruelty is the only language the 'Story' understands. One must dwell within the shadow of another's suffering to understand the weight of that 'Story'. Even if that vessel is but a fragile child, the Story of an Angel demands a witness. 」
Nether spread his harrowing wings, the darkness of the underworld coiling around his feet.
「 Solitude was once his true ending. Therefore, he shall have our company instead. We shall stand before Avarice by his side, ensuring his Fable does not wither in the dark. Without the proper instruments, he will be another protagonist merely waiting for his Conclusion. 」
Ariel whispered into the wind, his voice a ghost of the secrets he kept buried.
「 I find that even my own tongue tastes of iron when I contemplate this design. We have accounted for every thread, yet I cannot suppress the tremor in my soul. That Angel nearly extinguished the Gods themselves during the dawn of things. 」
The master of lies spoke through her wooden mask, her elusive voice mocking the very gravity of the moment.
「 What a magnificent, merciful architect you are, Indescribable Shadow. To weave this world with your own miracle and then offer your very Essence as a gift... I see your kindness knows no limits. You have granted me perfect freedom and left me with every choice to refuse you. You are a truly blessed and truthful God. 」
Oblivion spoke with a warmth that her sister lacked, her gaze piercing the mists of data to find the boy.
「 Brother, my brother. He seeks the same salvation we all crave. The Forgotten One stirred in every failed cycle; your Spell, even with our souls, cannot hold out forever. If this boy falters, the Worldline falters with him. He is the anchor and sole hope for everything we desire to save. 」
Finally, the King of Outer Gods looked out across an indescribable distance, reaching through the Sea of pure Frequencies to a sole Dreamer.
「 To you from an indescribable distance and time, though you may not hear this, I am sorry. Sorry, for forcing my past upon you. And sorry, for the Eternal Reoccurrence you must bear. And yet, you are the only one who is truly free… 」
A hand was drawn out. A seed was sent. A Nightmare was born.
And his name was Lost from Light.
[The Divine Titan, 'Lord of the Abyss', is looking at you.]
[The Divine Titan, 'Demon of Desire', is looking at you.]
[The Divine Titan, 'Prince of the Underworld', is looking at you.]
[The Divine Titan, 'Demon of Dread', is looking at you.]
[The Divine Titan, 'Demon of Fate', is looking at you.]
[The Divine Titan, 'Demon of Oblivion', is looking at you.]
[The King of Outer Gods is looking at you.]
.
.
.
[Story, 'Hell of Eternity', has begun its storytelling!]
—
A moment passed. The silence, profound.
One woke as one always did, having forgotten the source of ache or origin. You stirred.
A second of new consciousness. A second, without memory or experience. You simply opened into a newly formed world.
Then, the past settled. It returned.
「 Sunless… I must ask… is this truly worth it? 」
Hope's voice, a tender lament, carried a tremor of grief.
The King of Outer-God's form shifted. A subtle, almost imperceptible nod. A response in itself.
「 Of course, Hope. It is worth it. 」
The Outer-God's words emerged stiffly, an awkwardness clinging to the unholy pronouncement.
Her presence, a gentle balm. Approaching her, one felt the echoes of countless prayers answered from a million dawns, a soft rhythm of rising and falling with the light's demise.
「 My understanding eludes this. It simply cannot be. The cost of 'probability', so immense. Your actions will erase you, utterly. You… "you" shall not even witness the journey's conclusion. 」 Hope's voice, though soft, held a rising inflection of disbelief.
A quiet, savorless breath. The voice exhaled. Then, a sad expression bloomed. As if a frown simultaneously embraced a smile.
Hope regarded him. A somber cast to her features. Her beautiful fingers, once serene, now twitched. A slight retraction. A hesitant contraction.
「 You… you deceived me, 」 she murmured, a trace of mourning. 「 You spoke of wonders. To create another chance at creating a perfect Worldline. Never, however, did you convey "you" would not be present to behold it. 」
The Shadow offered no immediate retort. A protracted pause stretched between them.
「 My nature, perhaps. Never to fathom human desires. And yet, you are no human. "You" are, furthermore, no God of Flame. "You" are an Outer God of the Void… 」 Hope's voice, a bewildered current, questioned the inexplicable.
Hope's jaw tightened. Her teeth, subtly clenched.
「 Just what outcome do you so fervently "desire" that losing everything, and gaining naught, holds such value? You will not even perceive the 'Conclusion' you endeavor to create. He will not embody "you." "You" will cease to exist. I… why… why am I incapable of understanding "you?" 」
Finally, the Corrupted Shadow turned. It brushed its hand across Hope's face. A bitter smile touched its form.
「 This… this was his wish. "I" am an Outer-God; therefore, "I" grasp no longer what desires I once held. However, "I" can shadow his desires. Thus, "I" understand what I once wanted. 」 The Outer-God's strained words found voice.
The Shadow's gaze drifted. It considered the Nightmare. Before it, a world forming. A world born of his past.
Hope turned. She looked within. Her expression, now deeply sorrowful. She sensed its nature. Its truth shook her very core.
She peered into a Hell. A hell of his making. A hell "he" would not suffer. Yet, one 'he' would remember.
「 It is quite curious, truly. "I" feel perverse things. Terrible things. My love, indeed, feels perverted. My longing, truly repugnant. "My" wishes are his. Yet they feel so… foreign? 」
His gaze found Hope.
「 However, "I" feel it will all find worth, ultimately. To let "my" Wrath incinerate fate. To burn it away. 」
「 Fate…? 」 Hope's query, a soft breath, hung in the air. Her expression, expectant.
The Outer-God turned. He smiled.
「 Fate… that odious thing. It dictates what 'is' and what 'is not.' Truly abhorrent. It seemed to desire "my" undoing. And so, I… "I" believe, within the Tomb, he must have eradicated it. 」 The Outer-God's words, a recounting from a distant past, had a strange cadence.
「 Later, nevertheless, he must have returned to it. He slew 'The Vile Thieving Bird.' He retrieved it. Thus he was bound to Fate once more. "I", too, became bound. 」
Hope understood. A dawning comprehension.
「 Such immense reach…"」
「 Hm? 」
「 Your foresight extends so completely. Your actions, here, will incinerate the Tapestry of Fate within the succeeding Worldline."」
The Shadow nodded.
「 I'm… glad. 」 Hope's voice, however, held a hollow ring.
The Shadow smiled. Though, what Hope said next made that smile falter.
「 But "you" still deceived me, Sunless. What, then, do you strive to save? Those "you" had, before your loss, before becoming an Outer-God? They will not remember "you". They will not even know of your actions. 」 Hope's words, a pointed accusation.
She gestured toward the Nightmare.
「 You weaved a Hell 'he' will experience, solely for him to grow from it. Such a thing, however, will draw the attention of the other Outer Gods. 」
Finally, Hope's hand closed. Fiercely, it grasped his.
「 "You will" perish. No one will remember "you". Your efforts will find no place in memory. Your hopes, your wishes, your dreams and nightmares will be crushed! Forgotten! 」
「 And "you" undertake all this… solely for him to attempt the very same thing you did? 」
The Shadow offered no immediate retort.
「 If "you" found yourself so incapable of bringing your desired ending; then this… this Hell you weaved will grant him the possibility of succeeding where you failed? Why… why must both 'he' and "you" suffer… 」 Hope's words, now tinged with a horrifying clarity, unveiled the intent.
Hope understood. Her expression, etched with stark horror.
The Shadow's form held no discernible expression.
「 Song of the Fallen… she said it to "me" once before. Before that terrible Angel consumed everything. "All shall bid farewell to one, and that person alone will witness the miracle." 」
The Shadow chuckled.
「 Yet it was only after "I" spoke to Abaddon that "I" came to realize… "I" had to bid farewell to 'me' likewise. So 'I' could witness it. 」
He clutched the Nightmare Spell. Its intrinsic weave, a beautiful constellation, drew his gaze.
In his left hand, the Nightmare Spell. His right… he extended his fingers. He drew his hand toward Hope, the Demon of Desire.
Hope regarded it. Her expression… a sadness beyond words. The deepest sorrow the Shadow had ever beheld.
「 I will not remember "you." 」
「 No one will. 」
「 I will not remember this at all. 」
「 You will not. It… "I" feel that it will be better this way. 」
「 But how will I recall my task? When the time arrives to create that harrowing story, when 'he' faces Avarice, that terrible Angel, how will I know to help him? 」
Slowly, her hand extended. It grasped his.
The Shadow spoke. His tone calm.
「 It will… be in your heart, Hope. It will be your Desire. The wish "I" have cultivated will guide your path to him. It will wake you. Even as you dream within the Spell. 」
Hope's eyes met his. His gaze returned.
「 Ah… he will know suffering. He will know pain. Anguish and despair, he will understand all too well. These things… these Desires will eventually overwhelm him. He will long to crush his own Spirit. The reoccurrences will go on and on. It will only be when he nears his limit that you will sense his plea for help. 」 The Outer-God's voice, a steady recounting of foreseen torment, carried a detached emotion.
「 He will not know who he calls. And even that, "I" question: will he succeed in creating the 'Giant Story'? Perhaps the Gods will assist him? Perhaps the many souls within the Spell's false worlds will respond? One thing, nevertheless, is certain… Someone will answer him. And when one does, you will perceive the Star-Writ Thread. You will wake likewise. 」
He chuckled.
「 I find myself… happy. 」
Hope's demeanor shifted. Confusion.
Why was he happy?
「 …For what? What happiness is there? Why tell me? I will not recall this conversation. 」
「 Sorry. I'm just happy you accepted my request. 」
Hope froze. She looked away.
「 I'm not sure why I chose this, myself. 」
「 Hmph. I'd better send you on your way, then! You might concoct thoughts of refusal If I don't... 」 The Outer-God's words, a soft chiding, carried amusement.
Hope's eyes snapped to him. His chuckle alone was the reply.
Then, she asked once more.
「 …Is this worth it, Sunless? Is it right to trust the Worldline born from his actions? He will bear Void and Flame, and hold onto your 'Eternity.' But "you" will never know if he reaches the perfect ending. 」
The strings of the Spell connected. To the Eternal Indestructible Hell. To Hope. He simply responded. A bright smile.
「 Hm… what would she say? Ah yes!"」
「 "If that is my will, who dares to stop me?" 」
His eyes widened. He laughed.
「 Curious, really. No one will stop "me". For "I" will not exist. You asked of its worth? Even if "I" lose everything… "I" won't lose too much, just myself. 」
The Outer-God's words, a simple statement of identity—
Hope hugged the Shadow.
「 Goodbye… Sunless. 」
The Shadow hugged the Demon of Desire. One arm encompassed her.
「 Farewell, Hope. Know that as "I" fade, "I" will not forget you. Nor your adherence to my request, for the remaining time. 」
He spoke, his voice cracking.
「 "I" will not forget you for as long as "I" live. 」
Hope's form began to be drawn into the Eternal Hell. Her eyes widened.
However, it was not some action the Outer-God performed.
Instead, her head resting on the Indescribable Shadow's shoulder, she looked up and saw another. He stood in this white-plane of Nothingness as well, it seemed.
The Observer seemed startled. She locked eyes with him.
Her expression… oh… her expression…
The Observer perceived it. The worst expression he had seen upon any face. Especially this, the most beautiful face he had seen in his lifetime.
It was a face he wished to remember. But unfortunately, would forget it, nevertheless, at his waking.
He woke up in the next moment.
The Spell spoke then, in a voice of mourning. Though… it was not clear what the Spell mourned so dearly.
—
The Horizon was ever-present, drawing closer with each passing second until the distance between the end and the beginning vanished.
This was a timeless meeting. There was no sun to mark the passage of hours, only a Timeless Dawn that bled into a Timeless Dusk, which in turn surrendered to a Timeless Night.
Ariel looked upon the visitor. His eyes were wide, reflecting the white expanse of the battlefield.
「 Alas, we are finally at the end. The Demon of Possibility. Come, tell me. What final words have you brought to this grave? 」
A moment of silence followed before the weight of dread finally settled. It was a moment where the dream became nothing more than a dream—formless and hollow.
The world was white, endless, and silent.
The corpses of Outer Gods lay scattered across an inverted sea. Their massive forms were half-sunk into the distorted data that made up the foundation of the world. Rivers of writhing, alien blood streamed through the gaps in the reality of the dream, falling soundlessly into the depths of a dark, imprisoned ocean below. Above, the sky hung in shattered pieces. Beyond the cracks, something unfathomable appeared; it was a vastness beyond the logic of the mind.
The cold bit at the soul. The scent of alien blood thickened until it was suffocating. Then, the realization of place and purpose returned.
「 Ariel. "I" suppose it is an honor to see your true face before everything is finished. 」
The Indescribable Shadow, the King of Outer Gods, stood in the center of the devastation. He looked upon the great existence that had served as the battlefield. Alien ichor seeped between the enormous fingers of the fallen. Radiant eyes darted, feverish and dazed, before they finally settled.
The 4th Arch-Angel of the Void whispered its final words before being struck down.
Ariel watched the scene, enamored by the sheer scale of the power on display.
「 I actually believed I was strong once. How arrogant of me! Compared to you, nothing else really matters, does it? 」
The observer turned his gaze. The Outer-God stood upon the broken ice. His hands rested at his sides. He wore the observer's own face, but a great distance emanated from him—a cold, cosmic reach that made him feel leagues away even while standing close.
The Shadow turned its head toward the fallen Arch-Angel, standing side by side with the Demon of Dread.
「 You once asked me what "I" was afraid of. Well, "I" have thought about it. "I" have one or two answers for you now. "I" fear the Calamities. "I" fear the Dragon and that Nameless Mist, and the ruin they will bring. And "I" fear the Arch-Angels. Actually, "I" fear that "I" will run out of time and fade away before "I" can find and kill all seven of them. 」
Ariel's lips curved into a sinister, knowing smile. There were tears in his eyes, yet his laughter felt like a sharp blade.
「 You fear those things? But you don't fear that your Nightmare will fail? You are a strange creature. 」
The Shadow's gaze drifted upward, toward the broken sky and the fragments of the world above.
「 Failure is not something "I" think about. The Nightmare does not have a set of rules for completion. He only needs to see and feel a fraction of what "I" have endured. He needs to grow. Once his Story is large enough, his spirit will be a vessel capable of holding whatever power is necessary to reach a different end. He will have a piece of my Shadow. He will have the existence of an Angel. That is enough. It… it has to be enough. 」
A low hum escaped Ariel. He looked at the Shadow with a mixture of fascination and genuine terror.
「 I have to hand it to you. It is a disgusting plan, but it is going to work. You are turning him into a perfect vessel by being cruel. To let him face Avarice and die over and over... it will stretch his spirit into an abyss that can swallow anything. You are creating something that even I am starting to fear. 」
The Shadow offered no reply. He stood as a silent pillar of darkness against the white world.
「 However… why Avarice? I have to ask, since my siblings and I are helping you build this tragic tale. Why that specific Angel? The worst one of all? Is this just revenge for what happened to your world? Is it a grudge? Or is that power just the most useful tool you could find? I find myself quite anxious about the answer. 」
The Indescribable Shadow looked at Ariel with a curious expression. He lingered there, pondering the question. Even though he no longer possessed the Flaw that forced him to be truthful, he spoke with a cold, detached honesty.
「 It is both, or perhaps it is neither. "I" don't have desires of my own anymore; "I" only shadow what he once wanted. "I" cannot call it revenge because "I" am not capable of feeling the need for it. "I" already took my revenge a long time ago. However, if we are talking about what helps 'him' the most, then yes. Having the power of an Angel will let him break through the walls that stopped me. 」
The Indescribable Shadow manifested shadows in great numbers. They took different shapes, symbols of a plan that spanned across time. He pointed to the first symbol: an outline of a personification of Shadow wrapped in heavy chains, only for the figure to sprout wings and shatter the iron.
「 Abaddon will fix the first problem. [Shadow Slave] will merge with "my" Corrupt Shadow. And thus, he will possess "my" 'Eternity.' When someone reaches the 'Conclusion,' their entire nature changes. "I" want to see what happens to that aspect when it belongs to someone who isn't at the end yet. "My" hope is that the bond he once had will turn into a Curse and a Blessing. It is a better substitute for what he is losing. 」
Ariel hummed in understanding. The Shadow pointed to the next symbol: a Nephilim twisted and mixed with the form of an Angel in a sickening display of fusion.
「 Abaddon will enjoy creating this, "I" think. Being incorruptible is the only way this can work. The body of an Angel broken down into a tool... it is the one part "I" am not sure about. An Angel's nature is a mess of contradictions that no one else can truly grasp. But it doesn't matter. The Heavenly Revolving Wheel will change what he is. Because he has "my" Conclusion, he will be able to stand in front of Avarice without vanishing. "My" power will be the foundation, but what he takes from Avarice will be the weapon. 」
Ariel's expression grew somber. A visible dread clouded his face at the mention of the Angel of Avarice. The observer could not tell if Ariel feared the Angel itself, or the monster a person would become after consuming such a thing.
The Shadow pointed to the third symbol. It was a single, Ever-Changing Thread that looked like a falling star and a boundless darkness all at once.
An Unholy Miracle.
Ariel spoke before the Shadow could.
「 That thread is beautiful. You described the exact sorcery to which you created that Miracle, and it is a shame that I still don't understand a thing of it. To steal a single string from the weave that makes up the Spell... it should be impossible. No wonder they call you the Demon of Possibility. It is infuriating. My siblings make sense to me, but you? You make no sense at all! 」
The Shadow chuckled. He pointed toward the fourth and final symbol. Upon seeing it, both Ariel and the King of Outer Gods seemed to descend into a shared sadness.
The Outer God's voice became distorted, muffled by the Nightmare Spell's protection of the observer's mind, yet the meaning remained clear.
「 The Eternal Reoccurrence. "I" created this Miracle to find a path to a better end. Now, it will be the hook that pulls him into this Nightmare. "I" don't know which version of him the Miracle will find. It will seek out a 'Lost from Light' across the many worldlines. Regardless of which one it picks, "I" know it will be the one where "I" never stepped in. The one that is pure. 」
The four pieces were set.
The alteration of [Shadow Slave].
The Void of [Light Bringer].
The [Star-Writ Thread].
And finally, the embodiment of the Conclusion: [Eternal Reoccurrence].
Each piece contained the soul and the will of the first Outer God. He who had challenged the Seventh Nightmare. He who had killed the Forgotten One, over and over, always too late.
The memory neared its end. Silver threads appeared from the Shadow's hand.
The Demon of Dread was being pulled back into the depths of the Nightmare.
Ariel spoke calmly as the sleep began to take him.
「 It was fun to be alive again. Thank you for that. I know every truth I ever wanted to know now. I even know where I came from. I even know the name Morpheus. I don't have any hesitations left. 」
Ariel clenched his fist and laughed.
「 I will help him kill Avarice. And then I will help him get back. I don't really have a choice anyway, but I find myself anticipating this hell of yours. To feel the wrath of Avarice for myself... that will be a wonder! 」
The Outer God watched him fade.
「 Farewell, Ariel. "I" hope the truths were worth the price. 」
The Demon of Dread laughed in joy as his body dissolved back into the Nightmare Spell.
「 Farewell, Sunless! I give you my word as the Keeper of Truths. He will not fail! 」
Ariel vanished. The memory was wiped clean from the observer's mind.
—
The Observer's gaze snapped between two existences.
One was himself — or a semblance of himself. The resemblance was faint and ethereal. This Sunless stood as a slender young man, draped in a long, white feathery coat weaved from the plumage of an Angel. Its surface was smooth and severe, falling past his knees in a single unbroken line, while the inside shimmered faintly as if the night sky itself had been folded into the lining. When he moved, the hem lagged; space within the realm struggled to keep pace with his motion.
His skin possessed the pale luster of white jade. Silky white hair framed a face too precise for reality, marked by a single straight line — a scar — running vertically over his left eye. His eyes were two onyx gems with a hidden radiance, resting on the vast storm surrounding them. The beauty was delicate and refined.
The Observer felt a faint, unsettling sensation, as if witnessing a perverted version of himself.
The other was an existence so divine that the Observer felt insignificant before it. The resemblance to his own face was stronger here; she was an existence beyond the rank of a Divine-Titan.
The second existence possessed the appearance of a goddess. She was an exceedingly gorgeous young woman, alluring but with a deathly pale face. Dark, long hair floated and curled around her as if weightless. Her eyes were multicolored and washed out, as if the empty expanse of vacuous darkness had sapped her very life force.
The Observer held no certainty of this information, yet he recognized them both. One was himself — or once himself. The other was the Storm God. The God of the depths, oceans, darkness, stars, and disaster.
The House of Night's very own Goddess.
Nokstella.
「 You chose to seek me out, Sunless? Of all the Gods you could have approached, you bypassed Shadow to stand before the Storm. Why? 」
Nokstella's voice was a melodic current that carried a beautiful grace.
「 Speaking to the others is a waste of my time. "I" have no need to explain myself to the five; they will grant him the chance to become an Incarnation of Flame regardless of my interference. Their hunger to see Corruption extinguished outweighs any pride they have left. They would aid a mere Shadow if it meant the end of that taint upon existence. But "I" am not here for their desperation. "I" am here because "I" require something only you can provide. 」
Storm God blinked, seemingly surprised. She turned her head toward him, her multicolored eyes reflecting the distant stars.
「 I… see. 」
Then her eyes widened.
「 …A request? From the King of the Outer Gods? 」
Nokstella was genuinely surprised. After all, why would the King of Outer Gods, who possessed the ability to manipulate the Nightmare Spell and the Gods within it, bother to ask for a favor?
「 I am listening. What is it you seek from the depths? You know the Fable and my blessing are already destined for him. Is there a more specific price you wish for me to pay? 」
「 There is. You know as well as "I" that Hope can reach Mirage, but Rime remains beyond my grasp. That girl is a contradiction — wise yet childish, full of a longing that has turned into a sickness. She views the Nightmare Spell as a cage, and for one whose nature is to wander all of existence, that confinement is a poison. Her Fable has… succumbed to madness. 」
Nokstella tilted her head, her dark hair swirling in the weightless air.
「 Rime…. I see. Your successor is already gathering the fragments of Fate, and the other children will yield their Fable soon enough. Destiny, Desire, Dread, and Oblivion will fall into place, alongside Imagination. But that girl does not know how to give. In her state, she will only know how to take. If her heart has truly curdled, she will see your successor as an enemy. Her history with Weaver and Izanami was never one of peace. Tell me then, what part do I play in this tragedy? 」
The King of Outer Gods walked around Nokstella in circles, watching the countless stars in the night sky. Finally, he looked down at her as she sat and spoke with a hesitant note.
「 "I" need your hand to guide his blade when 'he' faces her. 」
For the second time, Nokstella blinked.
「 Is your successor so fragile that he cannot face her on his own? 」
He shook his head, his white hair catching the faint radiance of the starlit realm.
「 It is not a matter of strength, but of the Story. Rime is a master of the Story, capable of even using 'Story Control'. Of all the Daemons, she is the one "I" would never wish to encounter in any dark time of history. Her authority over the narrative is too erratic, and in her state of madness, she will weave a hell he cannot navigate. You cannot reason with a storm that has forgotten how to be a breeze. 」
The King of Outer Gods sighed.
「 "I" am asking you to stand at his side and break her strength. He will provide the spark to wake her true self, but the battle itself... "I" fear it will be a nightmare that rivals the cruelty of Avarice. 」
Nokstella suddenly chuckled. She smiled, looking the Outer God in the eye before nodding.
「 It has been an so long since I last traded blows with that girl. I know the weight of her power better than any other God. You have my word. Your successor will find his way through the blizzard, so long as I, Storm God, is there to part the clouds. 」
The King of Outer Gods smiled faintly before turning away, seemingly about to depart. However, Nokstella spoke out once more, her voice dropping into a somber register.
「 What of the end, Sunless? That Calamity is not a distant myth anymore; it is drawing closer with every breath you draw. When the Indescribable Distance finally reaches you, there will be nothing left of "you." 」
The Outer God turned back to look at her.
「 The clock is ticking, but "I" still have some time left. "I" may not live long enough to see the masterpiece of suffering I've constructed, but that doesn't matter. "My" Shadow is, and will be woven into his own. He will carry my shadow when "I" am gone. 」
Nokstella had a somber expression upon hearing that, then she simply sighed, staring out at the beautiful darkness.
「 You speak of it so lightly. Do you truly not fear the Distance? There is no soul in the Void or outside of it that can survive its touch. 」
As the dream began to fade and the fragments of the memory dissolved, the Outer God departed, laughing into the starlit sky.
「 Fear it? Why should "I" fear the inevitable? Let that calamity bring oblivion to "my" entirety. It can erase "my" name and scatter my soul, but the result remains the same. In the end, "I" am the one who will win. 」
He lifts his gaze toward the Void and curses it with his onyx eyes. Even if the author is silenced, the play continues as long as there is a voice to hear it.
Until Eternity.
—
The time had finally arrived; its shadow stretched long and thin across the fabric of the dying world. Beyond the fragile confines of reality, a presence approached with the weight of an inevitable collapse. The host who was tethered to this era remained destined for subjugation, a vessel waiting to be filled. As for the entity who had once transcended that very host, he found himself dissolving into the white noise of the void.
Had this been his quest from the onset? Never.
He sought only a reunion with those he cherished. Perhaps, in a cruel sense, that wish had been granted. One billion times and more, he had witnessed them from behind the veil of his divinity. Yet, he was condemned to observe, never to share their existence or feel the warmth of their recognition. Eventually, he chose to avert his eyes from everything.
It was comedic. A terrible, gut-wrenching comedy to ascend to the status of an Outer God, only to be enslaved by a different kind of Fate.
Therefore, he incinerated Fate once again. His fury consumed her entirely — his own past, his own path, and the very Worldline that would follow. He would never know if the subsequent world would live or die. Their voices would never grace his ears again.
His singular recourse was to entrust the future to 'him.' He prayed with the diminishing essence of his soul that the words of the Song of the Fallen held the truth: that this other version would witness the Miracle and grasp a different Conclusion in his stead.
The Shadow seemed to falter, appearing wobbly and unstable against the backdrop of the workshop. Nether realized the gravity of the situation quickly. The Indescribable Shadow — his body and his pale, white feathery coat — fractured into countless white lines. Letters and symbols streamed forth from the cracks, only to be drawn back within like a tide.
Nether observed with a start. The great King of Outer Gods — the shadow who had purged the Dream Realm and faced the Arch-Angels — now appeared as a pathetic existence, desperately clinging to his own cohesion.
Lethe spoke, her voice sharp with sudden surprise.
「 Your own Story... it is being diminished? 」
The Shadow shook his head slowly, the motion causing more fragments to flake away.
「 Not exactly. It is being pulled elsewhere, and someone is rewriting the ink as it flows. That Indescribable Distance is finally closing the gap between us. 」
The Shadow gazed upon his right hand. He could perceive the grain of Nether's workshop floor through his own translucent form. Nether grasped the meaning of it all.
「 He is coming, then. What a pity. I had grown fond of our meetings, even with my siblings around to ruin the peace. I suppose this is where the road ends for us. 」
The Shadow looked up, his onyx eyes reflecting a deep fatigue.
「 "I" apologize for what comes next. "I" don't think "I" will enjoy dragging you and your sister back into the Nightmare Spell. 」
Nether sighed, his expression one of weary resignation.
「 Don't bother. Even if I fought against it, the frequencies from that Nightmare are already too strong; they would wake me regardless. I don't have a choice in this, and neither do you. I accept your request because there is no other path to take. 」
Lethe tilted her head, her divine composure unphased by the encroaching end.
「 Choice or not, he has a reason to see that Angel destroyed. That thing did more than just wound him; it took Abaddon. For that alone, the creature deserves to die. 」
Nether turned a harsh glare toward the Shadow.
「 And you are the one asking Abaddon to rejoin that repulsive existence. Do not mistake this for a favor. I only want to rip Abaddon out of that Chalice of Want as quickly as possible. If 'he' is the one meant to kill it, I will give him every tool I have to ensure he doesn't fail. 」
Nether shifted his stance, his eyes burning with an old, cold indignation.
「 I made a promise to end Avaritia for what was done to Abaddon... but the Sun God locked that monster away before I could strike. 」
A dark, sharp laugh escaped Nether's throat.
「 How ironic. Because of your meddling, I finally get to finish that conversation. Does that not strike you as a bit funny, Sunless? 」
The Shadow regarded him with an expression of intense spiritual agony. This was the torment of a being who possessed many Giant Stories and Myths, being forcefully re-woven into a new narrative.
「 It doesn't. 」
If the Sunkiller was the one who unleashed hell during the Doom War, then the Sunslayer served as the title for Avarice — an Angel of the Void who had contended with the Sun God in the Age of Gods. The Observer understood then that Abaddon, born of divine blood and angelic heaven, had bound himself to that horror using his own unnatural gifts.
The Shadow chuckled, the sound thick with pain.
「 Good. That... that is good. I have one less thing to worry about now. 」
Lethe watched him, her golden-black eyes devoid of warmth.
「 I fail to see the good in any of this. I won't pretend to understand how your mind works, but to drag a Sunless from another world into the nightmare of your own past and call it 'good'... I suppose this is why those of the Flame and those of the Void were never meant to understand each other. 」
The Shadow offered a small, fractured smile.
「 You're right, Lethe. The desires of the Void aren't really desires at all. They are just a mutable chaos that changes with the wind. "I" can barely keep this form together as it is. But enough talk. "I" need to send you both on your way. 」
He glanced at his fading body, a frown etched upon his face.
「 One task remains. A final safeguard to ensure he can find his way back home. The Etheric Sea is a jealous thing; it will try to stop "me." As if the Nameless Mist wasn't a big enough headache. 」
Nether approached the Shadow, his movements hesitant.
「 The Etheric Sea? I understand now. 」
Nether shook his head, his voice filled with a grim realization.
「 You are a madman. Stretching your Nightmare across different Worldlines creates a bridge. You had to know the things living in that sea would notice the connection. You are practically inviting them to watch. Those are entities that none of us — not the Daemons, not the Gods — could ever hope to contend with. 」
The Shadow shrugged, his form flickering like a dying candle.
「 It was the only way. You know that. This entire Nightmare is built to turn him into a bridge between the Flame and the Void. He needs to hold my Conclusion. The millennia he will spend becoming strong enough to carry a world on his shoulders... that is just a side effect. 」
Suddenly, the Shadow convulsed. A torrent of blood erupted from his lips, and white cracks like lightning tore through his chest. It was not mere energy; it was the very Divine Law he had established to guard the logic of existence. He was being assaulted by the safeguards he himself had built as a Divine-Titan to prevent this very scale of meddling.
Lethe looked at him with an expression of genuine concern.
「 The Law of Plausibility... your own 'Mysteries' are devouring you? 」
The Shadow fell to his knees, but he was laughing through the blood.
「 It is! It means it's working! This is brilliant! 」
He raised his hand and drank his own blood back, conjuring the Nightmare Spell in his other hand.
「 If the laws "I" made when "I" was a god can still hurt me now that I am an Outer God, then the foundation is solid! This wasn't for nothing! 」
Nether looked down at him, his expression darkening into one of pure condemnation.
「 You are absolutely insane. 」
The Shadow went silent for a moment, his breathing ragged.
「 You're right. "I" lost my mind a long time ago. Every Outer God is a monster of incomprehensible madness. "I" am just the only one that can admit it. 」
The King of Outer Gods rose to his feet. Suddenly, the wounds were gone, though it was a hollow illusion; the damage dealt by the Indescribable Distance was already permanent. He looked at Lethe and Nether.
Lethe spoke with a somber tone.
「 Being a part of this is better than being absorbed by the God of Corruption, I suppose. I would thank you for the freedom if you weren't just locking me in a different cell. 」
The King of Outer Gods offered no reply. Nether, however, stepped forward for one final question.
「 Tell me before we go. Why go through the trouble of the Nightmare? If you want him to have your power, why not just give him your memories? This whole charade would be unnecessary. 」
The Shadow looked at Nether with a hollow, empty gaze.
「 Because "I" was the reason for the failure. Every one of those billions of cycles failed because "I" was the one living them. "I" need a version of me that holds the power of Eternity but is unburdened by the spirit of who "I" was. If he regains my memories, he becomes "me." And if he becomes "me", the cycle starts again. 」
Lethe's expression was masked in confusion.
「 So you are fashioning a vessel for the Conclusion without the weight of the journey? You are granting the divinity and profanity of a god to an existence that has no foundation in the blood that paid for it? 」
The Shadow shook his head.
「 Yes. "I" am giving him the Aspects, the Blessings of the Gods, and my own gifts. "I" am too far gone to save myself, so "I" am forcing another version to succeed where "I" died. And his world is...already different. It was untouched by my cycles until the Seed picked it. It appears someone else has already interfered with his fate. And though "I" will still burn even that Worldline's fate away, it still makes him the perfect wild card. 」
Finally, the King of Outer Gods stretched out his hand.
「 Farewell, Lethe. Farewell, Nether. You won't remember this when you wake, but remember the goal. He must master everything. Weaving, Runic Sorcery, the strength of will. He must become a being of both Flame and Void — incorruptible, yet already corrupted. A being who can lead his world to a dawn that I never saw. 」
The King of Outer Gods chuckled softly.
「 This is my final experiment. "I" am betting my entire existence on a version of myself that was given every advantage "I" never had. If a Sunless with the fragments of every God and the mastery of two sorceries still can't find a different ending... then there never was one. But at least I'll die knowing "I" tried everything. 」
The dream was severed in an instant. The memory was veiled and locked away in the deepest recesses of the Observer's mind as the world returned to him. He opened his eyes, the weight of the King's final wish lingering like a phantom ache before the Dream Realm claimed his focus.
—
The fog had lifted, receding like a tide to leave the shore of Sunny's mind bare and exposed.
All of it.
He stood before the chained, golden-cracked corpse and the ferocious demon mask, and for the first time since awakening on the Forgotten Shore, his thoughts were not a chaotic storm but an icy, diamond-clear stream. He was no longer a boy playing a role he didn't understand.
He remembered.
He remembered the winter solstice night, the feeling of the soft mattress beneath him — a luxury he had once been foolishly grateful for. He remembered reading the appraisal of his Nightmare, turning the word over in his mind until it felt like a jagged stone.
Regressor.
The persistent, crawling incorrectness of his own life finally made sense. The choices at the Academy had not been choices at all, but echoes. He hadn't chosen Wilderness Survival merely because of Master Jet; he had chosen it because he already knew he would need it. He hadn't sat by Cassie at breakfast out of chance; he had sat there because a ghost within him already knew her. Looking at Nephis hadn't been a first meeting; it had been a reunion.
Both sets of memories now flowed into his skull, converging like two rivers meeting the sea.
He remembered the "other" months in the Dark City. He remembered the cold black water of the sea and Nephis standing at the prow, her calmness a lighthouse in the dark. He remembered Cassie's small, beautiful laugh — how it always managed to surprise him, no matter how many times he spent hearing it. He remembered the foolish, precious moments: Nephis failing to understand a joke only to smile a minute later, or the way he felt a debt to Cassie that could never be settled with soul shards or memories.
His chest caved with the weight of it.
His future self — the one who had walked to the very end of the world — had reached a conclusion.
And then he had sent a Seed backward.
Sunny stood in the underground chamber, the ghostly torches casting flickering shadows across the mask's hollow eye sockets. His intuition, that nagging, fate-adjacent impulse that had driven him to swallow divine ichor, had gone silent.
Its task was finished. The remainder fell to him.
Sunny inhaled, the air cold and sharp in his lungs.
The golden-cracked corpse twitched. A tremor ran through its broken, ancient limbs — not the movement of life, but the final shudder of a vigil that had lasted too long.
He felt no fear.
It was a strange thing to catalog. No dread. No urge to retreat. Only a clarity so absolute it felt physical. He thought of the people on this cursed shore — the ones he pretended not to care for, yet had bled for regardless. He thought of Nephis and Cassie, existing somewhere out there in the dark, performing their own struggles. He hoped they were safe.
He genuinely, sincerely hoped his "angelic" girlfriend and his "oracle" were well.
He took the final step.
The golden cracks in the corpse pulsed one last time, brilliant and desperate. Sunny reached out. His fingers brushed the cold surface of the mask.
The world went silent.
Not quiet. Silent. The torches, the stone, the dark — everything folded into a single, seamless point of nothingness.
He stood above black water.
His reflection gazed back, undisturbed and perfect. He knew this place. Its particular depth resonated with the part of his soul shaped by a god's dead blessing. He held the mask up, looking at the ferocious demon face — its four bared fangs, its three twisted horns. Light and shadow churned in its eyes, intertwined.
The Spell spoke then, its voice taking on a tone unlike ever before.
[The Iron Key has fulfilled its purpose.]
[The lock has found its key.]
[The Unholy Miracle 'Regressor' is trembling!]
[…Lost from Light, would you like to witness the past of the True Worldline, to comprehend the full power that was yours, the suffering that was accounted for, and the future left behind in the dark, restored to your hands?]
Sunny's breath caught. He almost said yes instantly. But the Spell continued.
[I must warn you, Lost from Light. If you choose to reclaim it, no return exists. From this point forward, fate will be — ■■■]
The silence stretched.
Sunny stared at the mask. He considered the offering: knowledge, power, and the weight of a life already lived. He would know what approached. He would know the past that didn't belong to him.
'Why?'
Why had his concluded self returned? What was so fundamentally wrong with the end that he had chosen to unmake it?
He needed to know.
He lifted the mask and put it on. The fit was perfect. It had always been destined for him.
'Yes.'
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the Spell's voice returned — distorted, warped into something else entirely.
[The Outer World Covenant is activated!]
'…huh?'
What the hell was an Outer God Covenant—?!
[Your True Name will disappear from this 'Worldline.']
['Viceroy's Dimensional Door' has been…!]
'Come again—?!'
[The Outer World Covenant is protecting your existence.]
[Dreamer! Prepare for your '???' Trial…]
[Welcome back, ■■…]
.
.
[Dreamer! Prepare for your '???' Trial…]
[Welcome back, ■■…]
.
.
[Dreamer! Prepare for your '???' Trial…]
[Welcome back, ■■…]
.
.
[Dreamer! Prepare for your '???' Trial…]
[Welcome back, ■■…]
.
.
.
.
.
.
—
The world faded to black. The world was gone.
Sunny dreamt. He dreamt of silver light and deep sorrow. He dreamt of a woman whose light had guided him, only to find her standing in a field of snow, looking at him with eyes that held no recognition at all.
Sunny dreamt of the origin and the conclusion.
[Welcome back to the Nightmare Spell, ■■.]
[Your treachery truly knows no bounds.]
He was an observer now, hovering outside a body that was once his. He watched the tapestry of a tragedy unfold.
Asterion had been defeated, stripped of his domain by the Song of the Fallen. He lay on the glass-strewn ground, powerless. But as he died, the Dreamspawn shuddered.
"Avaritia… Avaritia… Chalice of Want… please, take sustenance in me…"
The words were a death knell. The skies, the ground, the very fabric of the world went silent. The Seal had shattered. The long-imprisoned monstrosity was free.
In one moment, Nephis and Mordret looked toward Godgrave. In the next, Godgrave was gone — devoured. A vast mass of True Darkness spilled forth from the Seal.
[All shall bid farewell to you, and that you alone will witness the miracle…]
[I'm… I'm sorry… Sunny…]
Those were Cassie's final words.
Then came the end of everything.
He watched the flames being plucked from Nephis's domain. He watched the reflections in the glass being swallowed by the black. He watched "Sunny" let out a wail of tectonic sorrow as Rain's life was snuffed out.
The Darkness surged, overwriting the Law of War. Mordret offered a final, mocking farewell before perishing. Nephis embraced Sunny, her eyes filled with a terrifying despair. She commanded him to live, her kiss the last warmth in a dying world.
He watched himself lose his mind, desperately clawing at the glass to gather the pieces of her — her silver hair, a torso, a delicate hand. He tried to make her whole, but she was gone.
[Light Bringer] permeated his being. He was now a creature of both Shadow and Light. He was now a being who possesses two Aspects, two confluences.
He was incorruptible. He was alone.
The Sky was devoured. A long, swan-like neck emerged from the abyss.
An eye opened — a solar furnace wrapped in angelic rings, dwarfing the Ivory Tower. Hundreds of eyes followed, turning the sky into a living constellation of despair. Wings spanning the heavens unfurled, feathers of radiant blood and blackened gold. Chains of flame crawled along the edges of the horizon.
It was an Unholy-Titan. Avaritia had descended. It was free.
The world faded to black once more.
[The Unholy Miracle 'Regressor' is realizing what needs to be done.]
[Regressor <2nd Turn> (???)]
Sunny watched through cycles of absolute slaughter. For four regressions, "Sunny" could not even move before being crushed.
On the seventh, Sunny finally took control. He stepped into the role of a Supreme Titan — a rank he shouldn't have possessed as a Dreamer, but the Nightmare had no rules here.
It was a hell of eternity.
On the sixty-third regression, he escaped to the Shadow Realm to find ten years of peace and death.
On the ninety-eighth, he began to weave, attempting to refine his skill in it.
On the one hundred and twenty-fifth, he began to make small progress.
He lived through one hundred and twenty five lifetimes. He recalled Rain, Nephis, and the cohort die a thousand times over. He inherited their deaths. He inherited the loneliness.
Standing in the lifeless expanse of the Shadow Realm alongside six incarnations of himself, Sunny looked up at the silver brilliance of the sky. He felt the Soul Essence he knew not how to wield — a reservoir the same size as his own Shadows.
He had Avaritia to slay. He had a weapon made of memories and spite.
Sunny laid back on the cold ground and let out a sharp, jagged laugh. His incarnations looked at him, their expressions varied but their thoughts identical.
"I'm going to die another thousand times before I complete this Nightmare, aren't I?"
He was.
"Haha!"
He grinned at the Silver brilliant sky.
"Well… at least "he" didn't send a cockroach to do a god's job. Just me."
'…'
'Oh wait. I am a cockroach!'
Fortune favored the bold, and Sunny was feeling very, very bold. He had an entire eternity to get this right, and he wasn't planning on wasting a single second of his suffering.
The playground was ready. And the Lord of Shadows was just getting started.