Tessai quickly composed himself as the ship came to a halt below. He was barely scratched, while all the powerhouses of the Forgotten Shore lay battered and broken. This… this was his chance.
Gunlaug's massive frame was half-buried in rubble, his golden armor cracked. The once-invincible Bright Lord was unconscious and helpless. And that was what Tessai had always wanted most.
He raised his blade, eyes burning with greed and ambition. With one swift thrust, steel punched into Gunlaug's exposed chest where the armor had split.
The path was clear in his mind: kill Gunlaug, then blame Medici. After that, strike Medici down as well, earning Harus's loyalty in one stroke. When the battle ended, Tessai would stand as the righteous savior… the new Lord.
Yes. At last, his wish would finally come true. This was the moment he had been waiting for all these years, and now-
"What do you think you are doing?"
Medici's cold voice cut through the air. He tilted his head, expression hard with unmistakable displeasure at the dirty trick Tessai was pulling.
Tessai's eyes widened with disbelief and hot hatred. His plan was destroyed before it even really started. Medici had appeared and spoiled everything. He needed Medici dead now, before anyone could see him.
But Medici only smiled provocatively. A faint crackle followed as he activated Armour Breaker's enhancement, stored kinetic energy was released in a single, controlled blast that swept the dust away. Surviving sleepers looked up, first seeing Tessai's blade lodged in Gunlaug's chest, then turning inevitably to Medici who was grinning at Tessai mockingly and finally to man who betrayed bright lord, now his face burning with hatred.
Tessai spat and pulled the sword from Gunlaug's body. He rose, voice ringing with forced authority.
"I'm Tessai, leader of the castle guard and one of the strongest Sleepers of the Forgotten Shore. The lord is dead and i will take his place. And you, arrogant bastard, I will freeze your blood and shatter your bones. Who are you to challenge me?!"
A new duel for the throne was about to begin. Tessai abandoned any hope of winning Harus to his side; exposed, with no choice left, he resolved to seize the castle by force or die trying. Now Harus would never support him after learning that he killed Gunlaug... Which meant Tessai needed to kill not just Medicu, but Harus now too. And if Luna and Nephis survived... Than he would kill them both as well. After Amon's ship had destroyed the castle, there was no more pretense of order. Only power decided who would become the next lord.
Medici remained still for a moment. Then the corner of his mouth twitched into a laugh at Tessai's bravado. How laughable...
He flexed his hand; bone cracked like a knuckle in the quiet. A longsword shimmered into being at his side. It was plain and brutally simple, but ridiculously durable. He rested the blade on his shoulder and took a step forward.
When he spoke, the tone was wild and arrogant, each word wrapped with a rising, feverish energy.
"I am the one the Spell named Blood Son of Heaven."
Flames licked along the blade. The silver metal glowed as if burning; Medici's body was slowly engulfed in the same crimson fire. He advanced, voice growing louder, the hall hanging on every syllable.
"My sword will cut through your bones. For my strikes are absolute. I see fear in those vile eyes of yours. You fear my flames, and deep down... You fear death..."
He spread his arms; his crimson hair whipped like a banner in a storm of embers. His eyes, the color of spilled blood, widened with crazed glee.
"Deep down… I do not."
Tessai froze, every instinct screaming at him to run… to get as far away from this madman as possible, or die. The urge clawed at his chest, primal and absolute. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that, in this moment, Medici had stepped beyond the realm of mere men. To the eyes of those who watched, he had truly become the strongest.
The survivors gazed at him with wide, fearful eyes, their pupils catching and reflecting the blazing inferno that cloaked his form. Blood Son of Heaven stood tall, broad-shouldered, arms spread wide in a declaration that needed no words. His very stance radiated absolute belief in himself, a flames of ambition that could not be extinguished.
He did not need to proclaim himself ruler of the Dark City. The people did it for him.
Rodrick broke the silence first, laughter rolling from his chest. He stepped forward and bellowed, voice ringing with raw energy:
"Hail The Blood Emperor!"
"We have a new ruler!"
His words caught like sparks in dry grass. One by one, voices followed like a rising tide. Those who had clung to the Bright Castle began to falter, their loyalty unraveling as they drifted to stand with the hunters who followed Medici.
And Tessai… Tessai was left paralyzed. Fear hollowed him out until only despair remained. A strangled, nervous laugh escaped his lips as he realized his body would no longer obey him. He could not move.
Medici advanced calmly.
It sounds disturbing, but some people laugh in the middle of their worst moments. Not because anything is funny, but because the brain is trying to keep them alive. It's called the incongruent effect, when your emotional reaction doesn't match the situation.
When the brain is overwhelmed by fear, the amygdala floods the body with panic signals. Most collapse into fight or flight, but sometimes the nervous system short-circuits into a different state: freeze. And in that freeze response, the brain can trigger nervous laughter. A release valve for unbearable stress.
It isn't joy. It's biology.
Survivors often hate themselves afterward, thinking: Why did I laugh? But the truth is, that reaction was never a choice. It was the body's last defense against shattering completely. Even in courtrooms, jurors have condemned victims for laughing while recounting abuse, never realizing they were witnessing trauma physiology, not disrespect.
The truth is chilling. Sometimes, the body hides terror behind a smile.
And so Tessai laughed. His lips pulled back in a grotesque grin even as his eyes drowned in despair.
That was the face he wore when Medici's sword cleaved through his neck. His head flew, mouth still twisted into that nervous smile, before his body collapsed to its knees, blood fountaining across the broken stone and drenching Medici in red.
Calmly, almost idly, Medici caught the falling head. He studied Tessai's frozen face of fear and laughter with cold detachment, the fire in his eyes reflected in the dead man's glassy stare.
"Pathetic..."
Luna lay on the cold stone, still clutching Amon's trembling body as he convulsed in pain. Her expression remained calm, her sharp eyes studying Tessai's corpse. She understood exactly what had happened, how and why. Well, she was a biologist, after all.
Medici swept his gaze across the ruined hall. Raising Tessai's severed head high, crimson hair wild and eyes burning, he looked every inch the victor.
Then, step by deliberate step, he walked toward the throne. Each footfall echoed through the shattered chamber, pulling taut the silence of the survivors. He was exhausted, his body injured and bloodied but beneath it all, Medici was exhilarated.
The once-golden throne stood before him, now drenched and dripping with gore. Its luster had been swallowed by red. Medici gave a faint, amused shake of his head before lowering himself onto it.
Warmth seeped through his armor. Of course it was warm. Tessai's body had bled out right here, turning the throne into a seat of rivers.
Leaning back, Medici propped his chin against his gauntleted fist. He sprawled with arrogant ease, legs outstretched as if the castle and all within it already belonged to him. Perhaps they did.
Blood pooled beneath his boots, flowing outward in dark streams. His blazing eyes dimmed as a grin tugged at his lips. Then, slowly, they slipped shut as unconsciousness claimed him.
And so, in the silence of the ruined hall, the prophecy came to life:
"Rivers of blood flowed from a broken castle. On its throne sat a young man in black armor, crimson hair blazing like fire, eyes burning with madness. With a deranged smile on his face, he held a severed head by the hair."
The first prophecy was fulfilled...
Luna smiled faintly, watching Medici slump upon the throne. He was safe for now, his hunters stood ringed around him like wolves, ready to butcher anyone who dared approach their emperor.
She almost laughed outright at the thought of what would happen once Medici awoke to find himself being called the Blood Emperor. That fraud was definitely crashing out. Amon really had done him dirty by telling Rodrick to give him that title.
But her amusement withered as faint embers flickered to life. She frowned and glanced back, where a dim, struggling flame rose into view.
Nephis's fire no longer burned with its former brilliance. It smoldered weakly, enough only to fuel meager attacks like enhancing her sword or healing her wounds.
Luna's chest tightened. Her faint smile cracked and crumbled as she swallowed hard, eyes darting across the ruined hall. There was no corpse to replenish her flesh and blood. Those who had died lay buried deep beneath the rubble below. Which meant Luna was weakened, with no way to recover her strength.
At the same time, a loud sound of shattering glass echoed through the ruins. The silver mirror, lying broken among the rubble, finally gave way. A pale figure spilled from it, crashing to the ground in a shower of shards. A young man, his skin white as bone, dragged his battered body forward, letting out a ragged breath as he pushed himself upright. Cuts carved across his flesh, and his clothes were soaked in blood.
Yet his eyes burned with desperation, feral and filled with spite. Despite his injuries, it was clear that the Treacherous Shadow was far from finished.
Even in his weakness, he radiated the dangerous resolve of someone who would not go down without killing his enemy.
Luna pressed her lips together, unease gnawing at her chest. Her gaze fell on Amon. His body still convulsed faintly with pain. He had killed around twenty Sleepers, maybe more and absorbed a ridiculous amount of soul fragments. Some of them came from Sleepers who had already saturated their cores. His body struggled to keep up with the influx of essence, drowning his soul.
Was he close to becoming a Devil?
Most likely. Perhaps five hundred fragments short.
Her fingers trembled as she hesitated, then lowered herself beside him. For a moment, she simply cupped his cheeks. A faint, warm smile flickered across her lips before she leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to his mouth. Then she pulled away and wrapped his battered body in a flesh cloak, shielding him from what was about to happen.
When she rose again, two blades awaited her. Nephis gripped her dream blade firmly, her expression indifferent, though a hint of rage and hatred flickered in her gaze. As for Sunny, he made no effort to hide his emotions at all, burning with anger and bloodlust.
But Nephis's hatred was not hers alone to bear. Her gaze kept straying toward the throne, to the crimson-haired youth slumped upon it.
Sunny's focus, however, was absolute. His entire being was honed on one target: Amon. His stare carried a quiet, murderous promise. To him, nothing else in this shattered hall mattered.
Luna inhaled deeply, steadying herself. She wouldn't die easily, even with her body riddled with wounds. But Nephis… Nephis's fire could burn her to ash, sear her into nothingness. With Sunny beside her, Luna was at a disadvantage. She was weakened and couldn't use large-scale attacks, only moves that didn't consume too much flesh and blood. And with no way to replenish it... that meant… she had to take drastic measures to have any chance of victory.
She glanced at Medici's hunters for support, but Nephis's followers were blocking them. They were locked in tense silence. It was clear: if Medici's hunters fought for Luna, the sleepers from the slums would fight back, potentially resulting in the death of Medici, who was sitting on the throne, motionless and unconscious. The risk was too high for the hunters to gamble on, and the slum dwellers knew exactly whom to target to make the hunters freeze in place.
Luna sighed, her expression hardened, eyes turning sharp and cold as she met their gaze head-on.
For the briefest heartbeat, both Nephis and Sunny flinched.
The memory of being devoured, of flesh melting, of death approaching with quiet inevitability still haunted Nephis, no matter how hard she tried to banish it. Luna's stare clawed at those scars. Who wouldn't be horrified watching a beautiful woman devour their own body?
And Sunny… he remembered the Ashen Barrow. He remembered her hands crushing him, the suffocating horror of almost dying in her grasp. He had escaped her once, barely.
Unwillingly, Luna had scarred them both.
And now... there was no need for words anymore. Luna knew it.
So, she simply raised her longsword and dashed.
Steel clashed in a blinding spray of sparks. Nephis caught Luna's first strike, parried hard, and answered with a brutal kick that slammed into Luna's stomach. The impact sent her staggering, only for Sunny to appear like a shadow, his odachi carving across her back before his boot crashed into her spine, driving her forward.
Nephis was already there. Her blade pierced Luna's chest, hot flames searing into torn flesh. Their coordination was seamless and flawless, just as the novel had described it.
But their opponent was Luna.
And Luna did not fall unless butchered into pieces.
Snarling, she lurched forward despite the Dream blade impaling her, skull smashing into Nephis's with a sickening crack. The radiant flames flickered as Nephis's forehead strained to heal.
Luna pressed harder, forcing the blade deeper into her own chest, then opened her mouth.
Nephis's eyes widened as she jerked her head aside, narrowly avoiding having her neck bitten off. Luna's teeth tore into her shoulder, ripping free a mouthful of flesh. Blood sprayed, running down Luna's chin as she chewed and swallowed, her expression cold and focused on replenishing flesh and blood to recover her strength.
A strangled cry tore from Nephis's throat.
Sunny froze for the briefest heartbeat. What kind of monster…? Before rage spurred him into motion. His odachi aimed for her neck, but Luna noticed and hardened her flesh as if it were steel. She was a dormant demon, and the Soul Serpent a dormant beast, which meant the living sword couldn't cut her flesh.
But it was still painful, and she wasn't able to keep up the hardening of her flesh. Hissing in pain, she lashed out with a vicious kick that sent Nephis reeling. Her free hand clamped onto Sunny's blade, halting it mid-strike.
She yanked, trying to drag him closer to taste how Blood Weave worked. She didn't know if she could handle Weaver's lineage, but at this point, Luna's mind was consumed by madness. Her flaw was already pushing her unstable mind to its limits.
But Sunny was faster. He released the odachi, vanishing back with practiced precision. He let the Soul Serpent dissolve and resummoned it to his grip in an instant.
Meanwhile, Luna's hand moved to the weapon still buried in her chest. With a guttural growl, she ripped Nephis's Dreamblade free. A raw scream tore itself from her throat as she hurled the weapon aside, crimson splattering across the stones.
Staggering, she gasped, blood dripping from her lips. Her body twitched and shuddered… then began to knit itself together. The wound closed slowly from the flesh she had devoured from Nephis. But it wasn't enough to fully replenish her strength, only enough to heal the most fatal injury.
Meanwhile Sunny was ready. His odachi gleamed, cutting a merciless arc toward Luna's staggering head and then froze.
A chill swept over him, primal and suffocating. His eyes dropped to the floor. Her shadow… what the heck was that?!
Five twisted heads rose from the black shape at her feet, its form so dense they seemed more flesh than darkness. The thing pulsed like a living creature, exuding malice. Even Sunny's own shadow recoiled in terror, trembling violently.
An unfathomable dread coiled around his heart, and his grip faltered.
"Sunny! Snap out of it!" Nephis's voice cut through, her sword igniting as she charged.
He grit his teeth, forced himself to move. Together, they struck, steel biting deep into Luna's body. But she didn't resist, didn't even try to heal.
Instead, her flesh tore open with a grotesque snap. Cloaks of writhing meat surged outward, wrapping around them both. In an instant, Nephis and Sunny were slammed against the wall, crushed beneath the suffocating embrace.
Agony tore through them. Nephis's flames roared, searing flesh. Sunny carved desperately with his blade, each stroke spilling ichor. They ripped themselves free, battered and bloodied, yet Luna still stood, swaying, her strength ebbing, but her resolve unbroken as she glared at them with a crazed expression, her flesh squirming and twisting. Then a voice echoed, one that froze every combatant.
"Fuck it, I'm doing it."
Amon was on his feet, pale, blood running down his chin, lips twisted into a deranged grin. His eyes burned with manic clarity, saliva mixing with blood as he spat words that made the air itself seem heavier.
"Lost…"
Sunny's breath caught. His heart seemed to stop for a moment as his eyes went wide with terror.
"…From…"
Cold horror spread through him like Icy water. His worst nightmare was coming true before his very eyes: his true name, the chain around his soul, was about to be spoken.
No… no… please no...
But before Amon could finish, Nephis's voice cut through the silence.
Her face twisted in anguish, her eyes glimmering with sorrow and she screamed:
"Lost From Light!"
***
[A/N: Holy shit, three thousand words! That's crazy. Maybe I was too hyped and didn't notice it, but well, it's still great. Medici has become ruler, that much is clear. And Luna really went crazy. Well… she literally did, because if she can't control her emotions, then she has to deal with mental corruption, as we've seen. And because of the lack of flesh and blood, now she has to handle not just mental but soul corruption too. She's losing control because of the lack of flesh and blood, and also dying. Seriously, this is crazy. Amon will pull the most diabolical prank in the history of SS, hahaha.
Well, I'm interested in how I handled this chapter and also the previous chapters after the battle started.
1. Peak
2. Good
3. Meh
4. Trash
That's it for now. Enjoy the meal… Seriously though, I think this fic has the most corrupted fandom. The only thing I find more diabolical than this is… "nah, I would adapt's" fandom.]
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