The wind howled as Sunny moved through the corpses.
Their bodies lay twisted and broken, some crushed under debris, others torn apart by the Tyrant's rage. Even in death, they were bound—chains locked around their wrists, metal collars digging into stiffened flesh.
Sunny barely spared them a glance.
His hands worked fast, stripping armour, pulling flagons from belts, checking boots for something worth keeping.
He had no illusion of morality.
Survival was a game, and the only rule was winning.
His fingers tightened around the last flagon.
Near his feet, the slaver who had whipped him clung to life—barely breathing, wounds deep, blood soaking into the frost-covered ground.
Sunny knelt beside him, scanning the man with quiet detachment.
The veteran tried to focus his eyes, mouth twitching as if searching for words.
Sunny's gaze shifted downward.
A broken blade lay near the man's outstretched fingers, just beyond his grasp.
Sunny picked it up, weighing it in his hands.
"Are you looking for this? Why? Are you guys like Vikings, longing to die with a weapon in your hands?"
The slaver didn't answer.
His stare was intense—some unknown emotion flickering behind his dying eyes.
Sunny sighed.
"Well, it might as well do. After all, I promised to watch you die."
The blade moved.
Blood pooled.
The slaver twitched, drowning in his own breath.
His expression shifted—gratitude or hatred, Sunny couldn't tell.
But it didn't matter.
Future Sunny watched.
His presence remained quiet, observing rather than pushing.
Past Sunny felt nothing.
Not guilt.
Not relief.
Just a strange emptiness, as though the moment held no real weight.
Then—
The Spell spoke.
[You have slain a dormant human, name unknown.]
Sunny flinched.
Future Sunny exhaled slowly, his thoughts unreadable.
Then the Spell continued—
[You have received a Memory…]
Past Sunny froze, eyes widening.
"Yes! Come on, give me something good!"
Memories could be anything—weapons, enchanted items, objects with hidden power.
Even a dormant-rank Memory was useful. Weightless. Undetectable. Able to be summoned from nothingness with a thought.
Sunny felt his pulse quicken.
A weapon. A sword. Give me something sharp.
The runes appeared.
[Silver Bell.]
Sunny stared blankly.
Future Sunny recognized it immediately.
A bell. A worthless trinket, fragile, insignificant, carrying no power beyond its distant ringing.
Sunny summoned the description.
[Silver Bell: a small memento of a long-lost home, which once brought its owner comfort and joy. Its clear ringing can be heard from miles away.]
Past Sunny groaned.
"What a piece of crap."
Future Sunny laughed at his past self's reaction .
Sunny sighed, shaking his head.
"Seriously? That's my first Memory? This thing looks like it belongs in a sentimental grandpa's pocket."
A pause.
Then, quieter—
"It doesn't even do anything."
Future Sunny remained silent.
Because he already knew.
It wasn't useless.
But Past Sunny wasn't supposed to know that yet.
He pocketed the bell.
No reason to throw it away.
Then, without a second thought, he pulled the fur cloak off the slaver's corpse, stripping the warm leather boots from his feet.
For the first time since the Nightmare began, Sunny felt warm.
Bloodied.
But warm.
"Perfect."
They moved through the frozen terrain as the sun clawed its way over the distant peaks.
Auro walked ahead, silent, focused.
Sunny trailed behind, flagons clanking against his hip, the dagger tucked safely beneath his cloak.
The path narrowed—a jagged stretch of stone flanked by cliffs on one side, empty abyss on the other.
Auro kept his gaze forward.
Sunny hummed absently, surveying the terrain.
"You know, this part of the mountain would be a great spot for pushing someone off."
Auro didn't react.
Sunny smirked.
"Not that I'd ever do that. Unless, of course, I found someone really annoying."
Auro exhaled through his nose, barely acknowledging him.
Sunny chuckled.
Auro kept walking.
They moved higher, snow crunching underfoot, the cold biting deep into their skin.
Sunny adjusted his cloak.
"You ever wonder if mountains hold grudges?"
Auro raised an eyebrow.
Sunny continued.
"Like, all these people climbing them, trampling their rocks, carving tunnels through their insides. At some point, don't they just get sick of it?"
Auro sighed, shaking his head.
Sunny grinned.
"No? Just me?"
They walked further until night descended and sought shelter in a Cave. The cave, dark and deep, nestled against the rock face like a secret carved into the mountain's bones.
Future Sunny felt his breath hitch.
This place—this exact place—was where he and Auro had taken shelter during his first Nightmare.
Familiar.
Unsettling.
Unavoidable.
Sunny hesitated, staring into the darkness.
The wind howled.
The bell in his pocket felt heavier than before.
Future Sunny watched.
Past Sunny stepped inside.
Fate remained silent.
For now.