Sunny narrowed his eyes, even if he was never one to deny free gifts, this was suspicious.
'There's no free lunch in this world after all!'
Who had slain the mountain king?
It couldn't be mere strings— or could it? Actually, he couldn't even answer that! Who knew what other surprises were hiding in plain sight?
Thump, he could feel his heart beat, this… was dangerous.
A chuckle almost slipped from his throat— when had his nightmare ever been safe? This was no different! The stakes were just… higher.
He didn't know anything about them; while he knew the Mountain King—large, savage, monstrous. But blind.
Yet, these strings… they held a secret, sharp teeth hidden behind their placid look. And they bite—the abomination had died because of them after all.
These 'harmless' strings could kill him before he uttered a single word.
But really, what is this? Sunny shivered, his eyes flickering onto the threads shifting around the temple.
They were twisting, moving around the hall, almost invisible. The only indication that they existed was the occasional shine of light from the sun; not that it helped much, with the freezing cold this high up even a glimpse of the sun was a rare sight.
So he waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Nothing happened—as if the strings were waiting for something to… happen.
Whatever, He thought, as his whole body trembled under the weight of winter. Even in the relatively warm temple, the cold was still here, just unnoticeable among all this.
Now that whatever high he had while clawing for survival was gone, the cold truly caught up to him. In fact, he could barely feel his fingers!
Clawing for survival?
That would imply he thought he was… safe. But—
"You know what? I don't even care anymore!" He muttered, his voice echoing around the chamber.
Those shifting, turning strings were just burning for his attention, so… why not? Even if the Mountain King had died, even if he could live for just a few seconds more—
What difference would it make?
He was still dead. So why not satisfy his curiosity right now?
"Really, I must have gone mad," Sunny laughed, "Who would have thought that I would voluntarily risk myself?"
Cautiously, he moved—placing his hand atop the altar, he sat up, a frown on his face as it burned. Every vein, every nerve, every muscle screamed in pain as he moved, longing for the solace of the rest he just had.
But that can't stop him.
Hesitantly, Sunny reached his hand forward, brushing past a piece of the string—
His breath hitched.
It was warm—burning heat coursing through it.
He melted in a single grasp.
No, Sunny! You can't give up so easily! What if there's some danger hidden within… However, his legs had a different story to tell—they touched the floor, moving towards the string, until he was basically enveloping it in a hug.
Damn it all! So what if this might be dangerous, he's freezing, and there's heat coursing through it—warm and comforting. Was it a sin for him to want warmth? Wow Sunny, who would have thought that you would fall so low to hug a… string.
He shivered as heat pulsed through him. Maybe… this nightmare wasn't so bad.
It was so comfortable that he could feel his eyelids closing, his thoughts slowing to mush.
Yet distantly, he could feel it, the whisper of the shadows all around here—heat wasn't the only thing pulsing around the temple. The strings themselves were moving, constantly turning, dancing, multiplying and all that.
Eventually, he felt it—a brush against his leg.
Immediately, his eyes flashed open.
Right behind him there was another string, warm, gold, shining—it's heat was burning, intense; yet it was rejuvenating.
It was different. No string in the temple shone as bright, as all consuming as it.
However, that wasn't what caught his attention: for right below it, its shadow moved, he could feel it, a single nudge, a still.
What's happening? Sunny thought, involuntarily forced awake. The previous lively movement of the threads disappeared in a single blink, and it was… strange.
Their shadows moved, twisted, gathered in such an unusual way that couldn't possibly be following the laws of reality; while the strings themselves… did not.
But how?
Even a outskirts rat like him knew that shadows didn't behave like that. They were a copy of their owner, following each of their movements like a, well, a shadow.
All around the room, grey danced: swirling together into a giant pool, merging, becoming one.
His eyes widened.
The shadows took on a humanoid figure—a demon of shadows—a fearsome, cruel mask adorned its face. And at the gaps where its eyes are supposed to be… was black. Black as in the abyss, black as in deeper than the hues of midnight, black as in the ones in his own eyes.
He couldn't help but be awestruck.
The strings reacted. An eternity later.
They were dancing, twirling, catching up with the shadow, floating in the air without a care of the laws of this world.
The one he was gripping too flickered, and Sunny jumped away immediately, his leg which was supposed to be caught in the web behind it. But it didn't.
(When he looked back, that golden, burning string was gone.)
He stumbled with a scream, crashing onto the altar.
Sunny grimaced, yet he looked onwards, forcing himself to burn the memory of whatever this was into his mind—beautiful, the scene was; ethereal even. These threads were something, something insane. Part of a weave he'll never know.
And the shadow followed it, each step, each stop; each jump, each twirl; each flip, each somersault.
Whoever that was, they were great, exemplary even! Their dance, it was… beautiful.
It felt… free.
Like the weight of the world no longer mattered to them; like in the grand scheme of things, what mattered were themselves—their plans, their wishes, their goals.
Nothing else mattered.
However, as he looked, the threads themselves… had a goal.
They were unwavering, twisting turning—with purpose and clarity. Their only goal? To contain, to restrict the shadow who was slipping away, who had turned this into a dance of light and shadow, a desperate fight against something… impossible.
It was ethereal. Yet this can't last forever.
And… the shadow wasn't winning.
In just a blink of an eye, the strings tightened, wrapped into them, trapping the shadow in their embrace—just like that, it was gone.
This… This doesn't feel like someone like me should be seeing, He thought, as he couldn't help but stare with wide eyes, not daring to miss a single moment.
[...You have offered yourself as a sacrifice to the divine.]
The spell howled, its voice… small, soft—
As if it were… scared.
[The gods are dead, but their legacy lives.]
But that was impossible! The Spell? Scared?
[Your soul bears the mark of defiance.]
Besides, what was happening? This all feels… strange.
[You are fated.]
The Spell continues.
[The legacy deep inside you stirs from its slumber.]
And with each sentence said, the world around him began to fade;
[He sends a blessing from beyond the grave.]
The threads surrounding the shadow beginning to move.
[Child of Fate, receive your blessing!]
The last thing he saw was a burst of white light, as an angel of flame erupted from the havoc of thread and strings.
With a flap of its wings, the entire weave before him burned—burned with the intensity of a thousand flames.
But what intrigued him the most was its shadow—dancing, fighting, clashing with those countless threads, as the angel faced off against the ones from the skies.
And for just a moment, the temple was but light and darkness.
The Angel raised its blade—and Sunny felt like he shouldn't be seeing this and he was just an outskirts rat and why was this happening in his nightmare—a burst of light enveloped the temple.
Then they were gone, with a burst of imaginary flame and light, they extinguished any sort of shadow left in the area. All around him, was a reflection of a twisted world—a wreckage, if he had to summarize.
Unnatural, it was. Sunny shuddered.
And yet, he couldn't move past what he had just seen: for just a fraction of a second, right before the angel and her shadow disappeared completely—Sunny saw it—a smile.
It was a gentle, welcoming one; but that was what made it all the more strange, uncanny. A smile like this, one without any intent was dangerous.
…
[You have obtained an Attribute.]
[Attribute: Anomaly.]
[Attribute Description: You are an anomaly in the grand scheme of things, and the world rejects your kind—Nightmare Creatures are more attracted to your unlikely scent.]
Sunny blinked once, twice.
His eyes widened as realization dawned.
"How?!" He screamed, "Why?!"
Didn't he suffer enough?
However as he was stuck processing the weight behind whatever this was, Sunny missed whatever happened next:
A single shadow appeared from the wreckage, or to be more precise, it never appeared, and so, it never left.
A gust of wind blew past him.
Uno.
Dos.
Tres.
Something pierces his heart.
He screamed.