Y'know, I came to the realization that I've been writing this fic as if I'm contracted to write stuff that people will read rather than because I want to write.
It was so in the beginning, but I have deviated far too much.
As such, I will return to the origin. I will write what I want, I could not care less about if I am in line with canon or the personalities of the characters as long as I am liking what I write, and most of it involves tragedy (I have yet to get to that point in this fic) and the protagonist (Sunny) being domineering.
Back when I wrote the oneshot about Sunny making Anvil and Song kneel, I wanted to make it a real part of my fic, but chose to not do so in favor of being more closely aligned with canon… that will be no more. From now on, that is.
So yeah, just a heads up that the fic will change in direction.
---
All eyes were on Sunny and his companions, seated at an ordinary table at the far end of the hall, somewhat removed from the other Sleepers.
This, coupled with the urgency of the recent events, was the main reason they, and the guards Sunny had gagged, had remained unnoticed for so long.
He had to act; clearly, none of the others would.
'I guess I'll—'
"Gunlaug! I invoke the right of challenge."
It wasn't Sunny who spoke…
It was Nephis.
This was unexpected. Sunny had anticipated a change in her, knew something would be different. Yet, with fate hewing so closely to its original path, he had concluded that he himself would need to interject if he wished to deviate from the predestined course.
But maybe that was not all there was to it.
After all, fate was not something mere mortals were supposed to comprehend.
But then again… Sunny was far from any mere mortal.
In the hall, a hush fell once more.
Gunlaug stayed quiet.
The display of power from Sunny's other incarnation had clearly rattled him to the core. Sunny could practically feel it, radiating from Gunlaug behind the impassive golden armor that masked his face.
For a fleeting moment, there was fear… But then, it twisted into raw malice.
Gunlaug tilted his head, silent for a moment, then chuckled. "For what reason do you invoke the right of challenge?"
Before Nephis could answer, Gunlaug rose from his throne and took a leisurely step forward, descending the stairs. "You kill my loyal servants." With each step, his voice growled louder. "You disrupt order in this land." "You lot make me sick with your twisted sense of justice." He glanced over the rest of the cohort, his eyes then fixing on Nephis. "Do you take me for a weakling? I have been here far longer than you. I have suffered here far longer! Damned be the world before I let you trample over everything I have built."
He stopped at the last step of the staircase and stared at the lifeless, dismembered corpse of Harus. "You may have a trump card on your side. Ultimately, however, strength reigns supreme."
Meanwhile, Sunny wore a curious expression. He would have assumed the explosive display of strength from his other incarnation would have shattered Gunlaug's pride. Yet, it seemed Gunlaug still believed himself at least on par with, if not superior to, the Lightless Heir.
'Does it have something to do with his flaw?'
In the next moment, Gunlaug spoke: "All those here who participate in killing these vermin will be awarded endless riches by me."
"Seriously?" Sunny scoffed, "Is that what you were relying on?" He wasn't trying to mock Gunlaug; he was genuinely perplexed. Sunny took the last sip of his coffee, rose from his seat, and walked towards the center of the hall where Nephis had planted herself. "I've encountered a great many fools in my life, but someone like you is a rarity. I almost pity you."
Gunlaug looked around the hall. No one rose. No one could rise. They were restrained by their own shadows, now utterly loyal to their God, Sunny. It was a choice: remain seated and witness the fall of an overlord, or die writhing in agony as your soul was sheared from your being.
"This will be a duel between Lady Changing Star of the Immortal Flame clan and Gunlaug the Bright Lord of the Bright Castle."
A voice resounded, "What gives you the right to intervene in how we run our castle?" Curious, Sunny looked towards the source of the voice. It was the morose giant Tessai. He had previously killed Kido and seemed eerily loyal to Gunlaug—less devoted than Harus, perhaps, but staunchly loyal nonetheless.
Sunny smiled. "You asked me what right I have?" He looked at the giant, then down to his shadow, and nodded before staring back at the giant. "This is the right I have."
In the next moment, a wail tore from the giant as he collapsed to the ground, screaming in agony as his soul was ripped from him. After all, shadows were a gateway to the soul. For a shadow to peel away from its owner was akin to tearing their very soul apart.
Everyone watched, but no one dared to refute his authority.
"Anyone else care to challenge my authority?" He glanced around the hall—at the hunters, the Pathfinders, the lieutenants. "No one?" He turned to Gunlaug. "Well then, I suppose it's time to commence the duel."
He had wanted to have the cohort grow strong on their own.
To remain as a mere spectator while interjecting where necessary.
That notion however, would need to be delayed—if not cancelled. Due to the changes happening in Antarctica, strength came first.
He would have to hasten their growth. Exponentially.
The nightmare chain was coming, not only faster, but harsher.
---
At the same time, Sunny had been traversing the Antarctic Ocean—clearing out nightmare creatures to carve a path for the envoy from the House of Night.
'Now should be a good time.'
He smiled—or would have, if not for his current state: incorporeal shadow.
Far from idea, was the fact that his presence alone would accelerate the chain reaction of Nightmare Gates poised to bloom across Antarctica.
He had to intervene.
The House of Night had no Sovereign. Even so, neither Anvil nor Song had made any moves to reel them in.
Sunny figured it was either the brutal terrain making conquest unappealing… or the House's mere existence acting as a silent deterrent—keeping the two great clans in check, balanced on a razor's edge.
'That changes today.'
With a casual flick of will, Sunny shadow-stepped the short distance to the approaching flagship.
At its helm stood Bloodwave, stoic as always. Beside him—a tall man in a midnight-blue coat.
'Naeve'
…
"If all goes well, we should reach Antarctica by dawn."
Naeve's voice was crisp, practiced. He was giving Bloodwave a status report.
"It's odd. We haven't run into any serious resistance yet."
No response.
Naeve glanced over, frowning slightly. "Sir?"
At last, Bloodwave turned from the rail. His ebony skin caught the scattered light like polished obsidian. His voice was low, but commanding.
"Show yourself."
A beat passed. Then another.
From a shadow spilled across the deck, a figure rose—uncannily handsome, with sharp eyes and a familiar, maddening smile.
"The senses of a Saint… sharp as ever."
Sunny stepped forward.
In an instant, Naeve moved. A bone knife bloomed into his hand, forged from golden sparks.
"Identify yourself!" he barked, dropping into a ready stance.
Behind him, Bloodwave remained still.
He hadn't drawn a weapon. Hadn't shifted his stance.
As if what was about to happen… simply would.
In front of them, the handsome young man took a single step—
Then—
He vanished.
No. Not vanished. Just moved too fast to be seen.
A blink later, he was in front of Naeve, who held his bone knife out in defense—too slow, too human.
The stranger reached out, placed a single finger on the blade. Casual. Almost curious.
Naeve shoved forward, trying to cut him.
But—
It was like pressing against the sky itself. An invisible wall held him still.
If they'd known better, they might've realized: this was all a performance. A bit of theater to cultivate mystique.
After all, Shadow was not only god of death and shade…
…but of mystery, and solace.
"I am Sovereign Sunless of the Shadow Clan."
His eyes flicked toward Bloodwave—still unmoving—then returned to the man in front of him.
"I'm not here to fight."
At last, the older man spoke, voice etched with command.
"Naeve. Disengage."
The envoy hesitated, eyes narrowing slightly.
He studied the young man—still smiling—and obeyed.
The bone knife unraveled into golden sparks, vanishing from his grip.
Naeve stepped back, inching toward the Saint behind him—
Then froze.
He glanced at the smiling man again.
Then at Bloodwave.
Then back at the one who'd called himself Sovereign.
It clicked.
His pupils shrank. Breath caught. A cold fear crept into his bones.
Realization was a cruel thing.
And the Sovereign… chuckled.
"Don't worry," he said, voice smooth, almost musical. "I won't hold it against you."
Before Naeve could respond, Bloodwave stepped forward, coming to a halt just a few paces from Sunny.
He said nothing.
Waiting.
"I've come with an offer."
The young man smiled faintly—as three chairs bloomed from the shadows like black lilies.
He gestured for them to sit, taking his own place first.
This latest version of his shadow-crafted furniture came with a small upgrade: cushions modeled after his mattress—perfected for long talks and longer schemes.
"But first…"
He reached into a coiling shadow beside him and pulled out three cups of steaming coffee.
"Coffee?"
They hesitated, then reached for the cups.
Sunny's own was held by a delicate, inky hand—an extension of himself, resting calmly at his side.
"Now…" He took a sip. Rich. Bold. A hint of sweetness from the added milk.
"Let's talk."
He leaned in.
"I'll protect your territory from the other Great Clans. No Anvil, no Song, and certainly not the third will meddle."
His tone darkened.
"And if they do try to interrupt my plans…"
The ocean groaned.
A massive silhouette breached the surface behind them—a Great Beast, all scales and teeth, lured from the black depths by Sunny himself. It surged upward, a streak of nightmare leaping toward the ship's bow.
Naeve and Bloodwave moved in tandem, weapons flaring to life. Instinct. Muscle memory.
They had maybe a second and a half before it hit.
And then—
A pike the size of a tower lanced out of the water, faster than should've been possible. A single, clean strike. The Beast was impaled mid-air, its wail swallowed by the shadows.
Black ichor rained like ink.
Sunny didn't flinch.
"They will be granted the mercy of death."
Naeve was struck with awe. Frozen.
It was Bloodwave who turned back to Sunny.
Cup still in hand, he asked:
"What do you want in return?"
"Oh nothing much" Sunny smiled, "Just cooperation"