It had been four days since Sunny had met Jubei. Today, Andal would be challenged.
And if fate was to be trusted—not that it ever should be—Harus would step forward.
And he would be slain by the Lightless Heir.
The rest of the cohort, including Sunny, hadn't been idle.
Kai had joined them without protest. Hard not to, considering the man he owed his life to had called. Effie had taken even less convincing—all it took was a promise of Supreme waffles for breakfast.
Now, the four of them were seated around a table in the main hall of the keep, just past Dusk.
"So… Sunny, about those waffles—" Effie began, only to be cut off.
"Yes, yes. There you go."
Sunny reached out, his hand slipping into the shadows that clung to the table's surface.
Effie and Kai exchanged glances. The others didn't even blink—they were well-acquainted with Sunny's breakfast routine.
One by one, he pulled items from the void: a pot of coffee, silver utensils, gleaming tableware, and finally, three shadow-veiled plates.
He summoned three arms of shadow to pour the coffee, careful and steady. But for Nephis, he used his own hands.
She noticed.
"What happened to the chest?" she asked, curiosity threading her voice.
Sunny gave her a look, then smiled.
"It's currently in Bastion. I repurposed it. It now functions as a café—The Brilliant Emporium, Café and Memory Boutique."
He turned to the others, voice mock-serious.
"You should visit sometime. I only serve Supreme dishes."
With a snap of his fingers, the shadows melted away, revealing stacks of perfectly cooked waffles.
Effie's plate, of course, held the largest stack by far.
Kai and Effie both stared, eyes gleaming. They hadn't even tasted them yet, but anything was better than monster meat stew.
Effie attacked hers without hesitation—cutlery optional. Had they not been watching, she might have skipped even that.
Kai was more delicate. He inspected the dish like it was sacred, then cut in with a small, contented smile.
Cassie, ever gentle, carved a piece and held it out to Fenrir, who took it with a soft whimper and a wag of his tail.
Sunny scoffed internally. 'You're a wolf, for spell's sake. Act like one.'
But if he was being honest, he didn't care. If Cassie was happy, that was enough.
He and Nephis were the last to dig in. They took their time. Savoring.
Recruiting Kai and Effie wasn't all they had accomplished. They had quietly secured the loyalty of most hunters in the outer settlement. It hadn't taken much—just food for a few days.
That alone made Sunny question the value of life here on the Forgotten Shore.
He'd also ensured both he and Nephis were seen as leaders—not just her. This time, there was no worry about hastening the wakening of Forgotten God.
After all, he was on the path to divinity himself.
The shadows already whispered.
'Sunless. The Shadow God. The Lightless Heir.'
He smiled to himself. 'It has a nice ring to it.'
His thoughts were interrupted.
"Sunny…" Kai said, cautious. "Not that I mind waffles this good… but couldn't we have done this somewhere… quieter?"
He gestured subtly toward the gathering crowd—dozens of eyes locked on them, hunger clear in every gaze.
Little did Kai know, they were frozen in place by their own shadows. All bound by Sunny's silent will.
"Fret not, my friend." Sunny smiled. "They won't be doing anything."
He leaned back, sipping his coffee.
"As for why I brought you here…" His gaze drifted toward the keep's entrance. "You'll see."
A hush fell over the hall. Then—chaos.
Guards stormed in, boots thunderous against stone. They scattered through the hall, shoving tables aside, clearing a path.
To Sunny's left, Cassie calmly set down her fork.
"What's going on?" she asked. A hint of worry in her voice.
"Nothing much," he replied, too casually.
The guards approached, blades drawn, posturing like wolves before a kill.
"Move—"
One tried to speak. But a shadow coiled around his mouth mid-syllable, gagging him into silence.
Their own shadows surged upward, gripping their wrists, holding them back.
None dared resist. Not before him.
"Don't worry," Sunny said, sipping again. "Continue eating."
Effie shrugged and resumed devouring her waffles.
Nephis and Cassie followed suit, unfazed.
Kai, on the other hand, stared at Sunny incredulously.
All eyes in the chamber—except for the cohort—turned toward a dark alcove at the far end of the hall.
Sunny's gaze flicked toward Caster. The man looked pale. Trembling. Pathetic.
He briefly considered tormenting him further… but no. Even he had morals.
From the shadows of the alcove, five figures emerged: Gemma. Tessai. Seishan. Kido. Harus. The lieutenants.
And finally—Gunlaug.
The Bright Lord.
Draped in radiant gold, armor gleaming like an idol to worship.
Everyone at the table stiffened. Everyone but Effie and Cassie.
Cassie, because she couldn't see.
Effie, because she simply didn't care.
She hadn't even looked up from her plate.
Sunny extended his will—just a little—to push back the passive mental pressure emanating from Gunlaug's armor.
The Bright Lord ascended the steps to the grand white throne at the center of the hall.
And sat.
His deep, insidious voice rang out across the hall—the same words as before, or so Sunny thought. He couldn't quite remember what Gunlaug had said last time, but the feeling was familiar.
"Ah, what a lovely day. A perfect day for justice, wouldn't you say, my precious wards? I've heard there's a criminal among us today. Now… am I not fair? Am I not just? Allow me to show you just how just I am…"
A commotion broke out—expected, yet sharp enough to draw every eye.
Two guards marched forward with grim resolve, dragging a man across the floor and tossing him into the center of the hall. Ragged clothes, starved body. Hunter Jubei.
The Bright Lord's voice rolled out again, syrupy and theatrical:
"My wards. We have a guest. This man, called Jubei, visits us from the outer settlement. Recently, he made a bold accusation against one of my men. As a just and benevolent lord, I've invited him to plead his case. We must uncover the truth! After all, the law is our only guiding star in this dark world…"
Jubei smirked, voice hoarse with contempt.
"That's right. I'm here to accuse one of your thugs, Gunlaug. Let's see you wriggle out of this one, bastard."
He raised a hand and pointed toward the cluster of Hunters lounging in their usual corner.
"That one right there. One of your so-called Pathfinders. He murdered a kid—in the most disgusting way. I've watched your men commit horrors for years, but today… today, he answers for it!"
"…Is that so? A grave accusation indeed, Jubei. Please, enlighten us," Gunlaug said smoothly.
Sunny raised an eyebrow. Even with the timeline skewed, events were following a disturbingly familiar path.
Jubei clenched his teeth and pressed on.
"That scum lured a naive boy into their party with promises of riches and a place in your damned castle. But it was a lie. They used him as bait. Fed him to the monsters."
He spat at the floor.
"And you dare call yourselves Hunters? Cowards. Monsters. You make me sick."
Just like last time—or so Sunny assumed—the crowd turned on the accused Hunter, faces twisting with disgust.
Gunlaug turned, fixing the Pathfinders with an unreadable stare. They flinched.
"Is this true?"
The eldest Pathfinder glared at Jubei, his voice calm—too calm.
"There must be a misunderstanding, my lord. That boy was a valued member of our party. We all had high hopes for him. His loss grieves us deeply."
Jubei snarled.
"Lies! I was there. I saw what you did!"
Gunlaug turned to the crowd and sighed.
"What a pity. Your word against his, Jubei. What's to be done? I trust my brave men. They protect you all, after all. Who would dare doubt their honor? Who among you is so wicked?"
He let silence hang, then turned away, voice quieter but laced with theatrics.
"But… it would be wrong of me to play favorites in such a serious matter. Justice must be served. But how?"
In that quiet, Jubei's voice rang out—clear and practiced.
"I would like to invoke the right of challenge."
Gemma stepped forward.
"My lord, if I may. As their superior, any crime committed by these men is my responsibility."
Jubei's glare could have burned her alive.
"Think I'm afraid of you, lapdog? Fine. I challenge you!"
Gunlaug interjected smoothly:
"A challenge? So be it. A sacred tradition. As long as good men are willing to stake their lives for truth, evil cannot prevail…"
He paused.
"…However, Gemma, it wouldn't do for you to fight personally. The Bright Castle can't afford to lose you. Jubei, would you allow the accused to choose another champion?"
Jubei shrugged.
"Very well. But I'll name my own champion too."
The Bright Lord tilted his head, then turned to the Pathfinder.
Andal hesitated, then said softly:
"I choose Harus, my lord."
A hush fell over the hall.
Gunlaug turned back to Jubei, expectant.
Jubei smirked.
"Even better. I choose the Lightless Heir to represent me."
Whispers surged like a rising tide.
"Lightless Heir?"
"Who is that?"
"From the outer settlements?"
Only Kai and Effie froze.
Their faces paled.
Gunlaug's voice cut through the murmur, cold and commanding.
"Who is this Lightless Heir you speak of?"
But it wasn't Jubei who answered. Not a Pathfinder. Not a lieutenant.
From a shadowed corner, a voice echoed.
Cold. Elegant. Laced with promised cruelty.
"I am your father."
---
Back at the table, Sunny loosened his grip on the guards—just enough for them to turn their heads and watch. They were still gagged. That part hadn't changed.
A man clad in shadows stepped forward.
He wore a mask like a war idol—three jagged horns twisting skyward like a crown, four cruel fangs jutting from a monstrous mouth.
His eyes were pits. Not black, not dark—just endless.
His shroud drank light. Plain at a glance, but wrong in a way that made your eyes ache.
He walked with slow inevitability, each step dragging gravity in his wake, until even the Lieutenants were struggling to stand straight.
By the time he reached the center of the hall, silence had devoured the air.
The Lightless Heir faced Harus.
The hunchback didn't move. His glazed eyes stared ahead, betraying nothing. Maybe he didn't understand what he was facing.
Then, without fanfare, a shadow coiled around the man's arm and bloomed into an odachi—long, black, and dripping death.
He waited.
Back at the table, Sunny sipped his coffee again. Cassie tugged gently on his sleeve.
"What's going on?" she whispered.
Sunny smiled, soft and amused. "Oh, not much. Some outer settlement hunter challenged a Pathfinder, and now Harus is about to get turned into mutton chops."
Cassie blinked. Her eyes were empty as always. "…I see."
Sunny stared at her incredulously, 'She sees?'
In the center of the hall, the duel had begun.
Harus made the first move, activating his Aspect to blind the opponent. A trick that had worked on all Sleepers.
But not on him.
The Lightless Heir didn't even flinch. His will—sharp and absolute—sliced through the illusion like mist.
"A party trick," he said, voice quiet, almost bored. "Useless."
Then he moved.
Too fast for any Sleeper. But these were no ordinary Sleepers.
Gunlaug saw it. So did his Lieutenants. So did the other Hunters and Pathfinders.
No one dared interfere.
No one could interfere.
They only watched.
The odachi arced downward. Harus raised his arm, aiming to catch the blade.
Mistake.
It sheared through his palm like wet paper.
Before he could scream, the sword came again—horizontal, precise, cruel—cleaving through his torso.
And again. A final vertical strike through the neck.
Three cuts. Less than a fraction of a second.
Where once stood a butcher, a leashed beast who'd savored the screams of the weak—now only a ruin remained. Bloody limbs. A decapitated head. A torso slumped in pieces like discarded meat.
The body collapsed without ceremony. One part at a time.
Harus was no more.
Then—
With a flick of his arm, the man let the blood slide from his blade.
It shifted—then unraveled—morphing back into a serpent that curled lazily around his arm, content.
He walked. Slow, deliberate. With each step, his presence thinned… until there was nothing left but being. No weight, no pressure—just the quiet truth of his existence.
Eventually, he reached a table where five Sleepers sat—one of them not quite what they claimed to be.
Then, without a word, he knelt.
"Nicely done," Sunny said, lifting his cup without looking. "Though you could've made less of a mess."
The man turned his gaze to Nephis, waiting. Hoping.
Sunny's eye twitched.
'This bastard…'
Nephis gave a single nod. Nothing more.
The shadowed man rose, let his eyes pass once over the rest of the cohort—and dissolved, cleanly, into the dark.