Fate's Slave - Shadow Slave X Honkai Star Rail

There was a deafening silence after Mongrel revealed the motivation that drove him to become a Stellaron Hunter. For a few moments, Sunny just stared at him in astonishment. He squinted his eyes.

"Yeah... I might have believed that if my slaver wasn’t another Stellaron Hunter. Speaking of, is SAM a boy or a girl? I’ve been having trouble figuring that out..."

Mongrel chuckled, not deigning to answer the question. After all, their Flaw didn’t work when they were talking to themselves.

"That? Well, you can think of it as security. Besides, attaining true freedom takes a lot of time. My chance simply hasn’t come yet."

Sunny frowned for a moment, before sighing.

"Alright. Let’s say that I do become free. What about the consequences? Sparkle and SAM know my True Name. If I end up free again, what if they decide to use it?"

Mongrel tilted his head, dryly asking:

"Why are you asking me? Shouldn’t you be asking yourself?"

Sunny huffed, the corners of his mouth curling up.

"Well, if you insist... basically, I think I’ve grown past simple murders. Instead, I believe that the punishment should fit the crime."

A knowing smile appeared on the Stellaron Hunter’s face.

"And? What would that be?"

Sunny grinned, dragging a finger across his throat.

"If I make them mutes, then there wouldn’t be any problems, right?"

Mongrel dramatically clapped, an amused grin on his face.

"Ten out of ten. You’ve reached the best possible outcome."

They both ignored the fact that simply trusting them with their True Name was an option that was completely lacking of violence. Paranoia was the only reason they were alive after all.

Pausing his applause, Mongrel leaned back on his elbows. He stared into the starlit sky of the strange space.

"Fortunately, that wouldn’t be necessary. The freedom I... we long for isn’t something so incomplete. Instead of simply severing Shadow Bond, we would become an existence that is able to make choices without the influence of the machinations of higher beings."

He straightened up, looking directly towards Sunny.

"Escape Fate. That’s the route to true freedom. With it, Shadow Bond becomes obsolete. We would become a Shadow Slave that cannot be enslaved... if I didn’t know any better, I would have thought Shadow God would smite us from the grave..."

As Mongrel laughed in amusement, Sunny’s eyes were wide open.

Fate was something that influenced everything in the world — both worlds, in fact. Sunny even had the [Fated] Attribute, which caused it to affect him even more.

He was both extremely lucky, and horrifically unlucky. Fate’s machinations were biased towards him, being it’s favored subject to toy with.

"Are you crazy?!"

Sunny words blurted out of his mouth quicker than he could blink.

Speaking of blinking, Mongrel blinked in confusion.

"...Huh. That’s not the reaction I was expecting. I would have thought that you’d be all for it."

Sunny shook his head.

"No, not that! I mean, what kind of idiot would trust a terrorist group to help him obtain such an abstract concept?!"

Nodding in understanding, Mongrel replied:

"You’ll figure it out soon enough. Anyways, I guess absolute freedom doesn’t really exist. Everyone’s a slave to their desires. People eat when they’re hungry, and sleep when they’re tired. What I want is to be controlled by my desires alone."

He smiled.

"Besides, the two of us want the same thing. A peaceful life. Whether that includes becoming so powerful that nothing can bother you, or becoming free of the threads that dictate this world, don’t they both serve that purpose?"

Although he was annoyed by the fact that his question went unanswered, Sunny agreed. Even the strongest of beings can be controlled by Fate, while a person that escaped it might be crushed by an unfortunate encounter if they were too weak.

Having both would give Sunny the greatest sense of security.

He sighed. Not only was he dead, but he was discussing hypotheticals with himself.

How far he has fallen.

Speaking of himself...

"So... I have one last question."

Mongrel shrugged.

"Sure. Just don’t ask about classified information. That will throw everything off."

Although Sunny wondered why a dead person’s knowledge would matter, he stared directly into the identical visage before him.

"What are you?"

Mongrel raised a brow.

"Uh... I’m you. Who else?"

Sunny rolled his eyes.

"If you really are me, then that implies that I’ve lost my mind. Even though insanity isn’t something that the plagued are able to sense for themselves, I’m confident that I’m still sane. I don’t think that I’d have a tendency to hallucinate conversations with myself. While dead, if I may add."

Sunny narrowed his eyes.

"I’ll ask you again. What are you?"

Mongrel stared back at him with an expressionless face for a moment, before smiling.

"That wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m impressed."

Sunny would have tensed up in preparation for a fight, but he was already dead, so he couldn’t be bothered.

The being who claimed to be Mongrel sighed.

"To put it simply, I’m a reasonable occurrence."

Seeing Sunny’s baffled expression, he continued.

"I technically am you; the you of the past. However, I’m not a seperate personality, or the lingering of your lost memories, or a hallucination. I’m a tangible being that was derived from your past identity to serve as an alter ego."

He looked towards the amber beacon surrounded by a whirlpool of an unknown substance.

"This place is the Path Space. I guess you can think of it as the plane of existence that most Aeons and Paths operate in. Whenever a Pathstrider or Emanator draws power from their Path, they get it from here."

He paused for a moment.

"Outside of a few, most Aeons don’t directly interact with the real world. Directly looking at THEM would bring about insanity and mutations, and minor conflicts could easily destroy galaxies. Some of THEM; like IX of the Nihility, stick around. THEY don’t care much about distancing THEMSELVES from fragile humans."

Sunny didn’t find it hard to believe that. He had struggled to handle the strain of witnessing the simulated version of the Aeons in the Simulated Universe. It wasn’t unreasonable to think that the real deal was exponentially worse.

Mongrel sighed.

"Anyways, the point is that this place is where Paths exist. As you already know, even if you’re not insane, your decisions and thoughts can be considered insane. Since it’s a stretch, it wasn’t considered a ’reasonable outcome.’ However, in the Path Space; a higher plane where the past, present, and future intersect, the specific abilities required were able to achieve something they couldn’t have otherwise."

He stared down at the black laquerwood mask in his hands.

"They created life."

He paused for a moment.

"Well, almost. Could you hold out your hand?"

Sunny was having a very difficult time comprehending what he was hearing. Somehow, someone out there had the ability to do anything as long as it’s a ’reasonable outcome’. That sounded absolutely ridiculous!

’One of the Stellaron Hunters? I don’t think any of them would have that kind of ability... no, even if they did, doesn’t that sound too powerful for a Saint?’

Filing away this information for later, Sunny did not hesitate to comply with Mongrel’s request. The latter stood and walked forward until he reached Sunny’s outstretched hand. He took another step, but Sunny didn’t feel anything on his palm despite the fact that they should have been making contact.

Instead, his arm passed through. Mongrel smiled.

"In the end, I’m still a hallucination. It would be more reasonable for me to be a figment of your imagination than actually existing as another Sunny. Of course, a hallucination would only know as much as you know yourself. But because of factors like your memory loss, I was able to remember things that you don’t."

As Sunny’s hand was stuck within the intangible copy of himself, he sighed before pulling it back.

"Doesn’t that kind of suck? Staying here the whole time seems pretty boring..."

Mongrel shook his head.

"Remember, I still function under the laws of a hallucination. One that only exists in the Path Space. Ever since my birth, the only things I’ve experienced personally was whenever I talked to you. Like when you came here after Nanook gazed at you."

He looked up in contemplation.

"So... I’m not even an hour old? Well, I’m derived from you anyways, so I guess I’m mentally older than you. Plus, I have your memories to add on to that..."

Sunny scowled. Why did this have to be so confusing? Sure, he couldn’t see the full picture, but would that really change anything?

"...Wait. If I’m dead, why am I here?"

The Path Space didn’t sound much like the afterlife.

At his question, Mongrel stared at him for a moment, before laughing.

He had the audacity to laugh.

"Heh, it took you a while to ask that. Of course, that was probably because you were too busy thinking about the complexity of my existence... which wasn’t supposed to happen, but whatever. Nothing would change."

It seemed like Mongrel had specific expectations for their conversation, as if he was following a script.

He walked past Sunny towards the warm amber light that stretched into the cosmos. Sunny blinked.

The person before him changed. There was now a figure with a black lacquerwood mask, carved with the ferocious face of a three-horned demon. His head was covered with snow-white hair, and ominous onyx armor covered his body. In his grasp was a lusterless black odachi with glowing white runes on it’s blade, casually slung over his shoulder.

Mongrel stared at Sunny with an endless darkness in the eye sockets of Weaver’s Mask. He cocked his head in the direction of the amber beacon.

"Let’s go. Did you really think we’d die to something like this? Compared to a literal sun, I don’t think Chest-For-Brains would be able to put us down."

Sunny blinked a few times.

"So... I’m not dead?"

Mongrel’s voice was unrecognizable compared to Sunny’s own — an enchantment of Weaver’s Mask. Although it wasn’t the real deal, the effects seemed to replicated through the Path Space.

"No, you definitely died. But don’t worry. You’ll get better."

With that, he turned and walked away. Although he was disoriented, Sunny stumbled to his feet, walking along the invisible platform as he caught up to Mongrel.

As they walked to the amber light, something materialized near them. There was a transparent image of two blonde figures. As Sunny looked closer, he realized he recognized them.

Gepard and Cocolia!

Suddenly, Mongrel spoke:

"The Path Space contains the past, present, and future. Naturally, you’ll see some strange things here."

Sunny attempted to listen in on the echoing voices of Cocolia and Gepard. The latter had a downcast and ashamed expression as he spoke:

"The Commercial District has fallen. We’ve transfered the residents to the Outer Municipal District for the time being. The Garrison lost twenty-six fighters... but I..."

He trailed off, causing Cocolia to sigh.

"...Go on, Gepard."

The captain of the Silvermane Guards seemed to be in pain as he spoke.

"I... I’m not sure that they’re dead... I saw their broken figures lingering in the Fragmentum..."

He paused for a moment, collecting himself.

"What happened back there defied all reason... it was madness. Madam Guardian, if this continues..."

Cocolia gazed at him for a moment, before speaking without inflection.

"...I know well the consequences, Gepard. You may leave."

Meanwhile, an alien whisper was heard — by both Cocolia, and Sunny, the viewer.

"...We know well the consequences."

Directly hearing the whisper of the Stellaron, Sunny became sure. It was a parasite that controlled the Supreme Guardians by whispering to them. With a constant voice like that, it wasn’t ridiculous for one to believe that the voice belonged to themselves, which would allow them to be easily controlled by it.

Furthermore, Sunny’s theory over how Fragmentum monsters were born was proved correct. The more humans that die within it, the more monsters that spawn.

After a few more steps, they saw a pair of blonde women; Cocolia and Serval. The latter seemed to be wearing a complete labcoat, rather than the tarnished scraps of one that she presently wore.

"...Why do you hesitate, Cocolia? Isn’t this what you’ve always been hoping for? Get out of this cage and take a look at the city. What is there to lose!? The efforts of our predecessors... their unfinished research... we can finally see them come to fruition! Give me some soldiers and I’ll locate the Stellaron and find out how to save our world—"

She was cut off by the Supreme Guardian.

"You need to come to your senses, Serval."

Serval’s brows furrowed, a perplexed expression on her face.

"Come... to my senses? What are you—"

Cocolia turned her head to call out to something — or someone.

"Guards! Miss Serval is tired, take her to rest. Sequester her lab and detain the researchers — their work is illegal."

Serval’s lips parted for a moment, before she grit her teeth.

"Why Cocolia... Why have you grown so cold...?"

She seemed to be dragged away by some unknown force — the guards, presumably.

After a few moments, Cocolia solemnly whispered:

"Serval Landau... you were my most cherished friend."

The Stellaron joined her:

"...But there is no place for her in the promised new world."

Sunny’s gaze lingered on the transparent silhouettes for a moment, before looking onwards. Right before they reached the amber light in the center, another pair appeared, featuring the Supreme Guardian and Bronya.

"Mother... I still don’t understand. The Fragmentum corrosion has already spread to the Underworld. How will those below ground fend for themselves if we withdraw every guard?"

Cocolia shook her head.

"The automatons will ensure their safety. The most important defensive position is here on the surface. If our lines crumble, the underground will vanish in an instant. Our defenses here must be maintained at all costs. These are the choices we make, Bronya... As a leader, you must harbor the courage and foresight to choose."

Her tone suddenly grew distant.

"You, me, and every Silvermane Guard in the city, all of us must carry out a higher mission. There will come a day when you must make your own choice. Do you understand?"

Bronya gazed at her mother in confusion. She seemed slightly disturbed.

"Higher mission...?"

She turned around, walking away as her figure slowly disappeared.

"It is too early Bronya... still too early. You will understand when the time is right."

Sunny and Mongrel stopped walking. They had reached the amber light.

Before the light was a child. As Sunny gazed at them, he realized that he couldn’t find any distinctive features. It made him feel uneasy.

The child was gazing at the source of the amber light.

The lance exuded an aura of refined power, dominated by a gleaming amber blade that caught the light emitted by the stars in sharp, radiant facets, its hue rich and warm like solidified sunlight. Though jewel-like in appearance, the blade radiated an unmistakable sturdiness, as if forged from compressed flame and tempered for war. Its shaft contrasted with dark, polished metal, reinforced with silver accents and intricate plating that suggested both precision and durability. Every element — from the angular head to the coiled base — spoke of a weapon built not just to dazzle, but to endure.

Sunny recognized it as the Lance of Preservation; the weapon that Cocolia had impaled him with.

’Why is it here...?’

It’s edge pointed downwards, seemingly the source of the spiraling substance around the amber light — which also came from the lance.

The child began to speak, their voice even.

"The city is drowning in tears... The power of the Preservation is fading. We could not defy the will of the Stellaron after all..."

Sunny looked towards Mongrel. The masked man spoke:

"The Guardians’ Will. It’s an amalgamation of their desires, guided by the Preservation."

Seeing that he had no more to say, Sunny turned back to the child. They simply stared at the Lance of Preservation with their featureless face.

"...You were just unlucky, is all. It’s a miracle Belobog lasted for so long under these conditions."

With only a few Masters and Awakened, it was almost impossible to maintain a civilization while under the constant threat of the Fragmentum. Of course, there was Clara... but Sunny still wasn’t sure what to make of her situation.

The child sighed.

"The Fragmentum had been expanding for the past seven hundred years. There is no faith nor wealth left for our successors... only despair. To see the home we vowed to preserve wither away... that in itself is torture. Not to mention the haunting whisper of temptation..."

Although Sunny couldn’t tell what features were on the Guardians’ Will’s face, he could tell that they were looking at the Lance of Preservation with longing.

"The day will come when even the strongest of wills cannot help but give in to such influence. It is only a matter of time before the Amber Lord forsakes us. In the end, Destruction triumphed over Preservation."

The child paused. They turned towards Sunny, staring at his left hand.

"That glove..."

Sunny blinked. Why had the Ghastly Hunger caught their attention? How were they able to see it under the Mantle of the Underworld?

The child’s gaze lingered for a moment, before turning away. Sunny looked towards Mongrel, who simply shrugged.

’Why do I have to do everything myself?’

Ironically, he was complaining about ’himself’ not assisting him.

Sunny took a few moments to formulate his words.

"...Honestly, I think that relying on an Aeon for survival is stupid. THEY don’t think like us, and THEY can decide to turn their backs on humanity whenever THEY desire. Nobody could stop THEM then. Hell, I don’t even think that relying on other humans is much of a good idea either..."

Sunny sighed.

"Even so, I don’t have much of a choice left. I want to live, so I have to rely on you. Since I’m not completely dead, then there should be a way for me to come back to life, right?"

Seeing that the child had turned to face him, Sunny grinned.

"In exchange, I’ll try my best to save Jarilo-VI. By extension, that includes Belobog."

The Guardians’ Will spoke in astonishment:

"You... you are but a stranger to us. And yet you seek to bond your destiny to ours..."

They shook their head.

"It won’t change anything. Unless your will can draw Qlipoth’s gaze, then you won’t be able to resurrect. Even if you succeed, your life will only be preserved for a few seconds. Before long, you will succumb to your wounds."

Sunny had his hopes crushed. He gaped stupidly.

"Ah."

Suddenly, another voice interjected.

"Actually, as long as you succeed in resurrecting, you’ll live. After all, being healed after coming back to life is a ’reasonable outcome’."

After hearing Mongrel’s reassurance, Sunny resisted the urge to complain over the ridiculousness of that ability.

The Guardians’ Will paused for a moment. They seemed to be able to see Mongrel, despite his existence as a hallucination.

"So be it. What is there to lose when so much has already been lost..."

’What a cynical mindset... did they really lead a city through despair, cold, and endless monsters?’

As Sunny lampooned to himself, the child pointed towards the Lance of Preservation.

"Touch the light of the Amber, Shadow. See if your will can attract THEIR gaze."

With that, the Guardians’ Will disappeared, as if they never existed in the first place. Unbothered, Sunny turned towards Mongrel.

"Any advice?"

The masked man seemed to be in thought for a moment, before shrugging.

"Don’t die a second time. That would be anticlimactic."

Sunny snorted.

"I won’t make the same mistake twice."

Mongrel nodded. After blinking, Sunny found that he was gone.

Sunny breathed a sigh of relief now that he was truly alone. In reality, he was horrified by the existence that was behind Mongrel’s creation. If his past self was aware of what was going to happen, then didn’t that mean that everything up until this point was orchestrated? Even worse, Sunny didn’t even know who was behind the strings.

The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest fear is fear of the unknown.

He had no choice but to continue onwards. Stepping towards the Lance of Preservation, he felt a warmth surge from it.

Taking a deep breath, Sunny reached out with his right hand. He grabbed the handle, but startled back when he felt a searing sensation on his palm, as if his hand was being burnt. However, there was no burn marks.

Clicking his tongue, he forcefully grabbed the handle, growling as the burning began to intensify until it was unbearable. However, Sunny did not let go.

If it is just pain, Lost From Light will not stop.

Amber flames began to flicker in and out of existence, circling Sunny and the Lance of Preservation as if they were at the center of the world. Those same flames began to light up from within him, starting from his unbeating heart. They spread along his arteries, veins, and capillaries, burning them without leaving behind any damage.

Then, the endless darkness that made up Sunny’s lightless eyes began to part like a curtain of shadows, revealing the molten glow of amber.

"Move...! You damn... lance!"

As if abiding by his will, the lance dislodged itself from it’s imaginary constraints. The flames within Sunny’s veins stopped spreading, returning to his still heart. They condensed, turning into a ball of plasma.

Then, Sunny burned.

As the flames consumed him, he felt a gaze fall on him from afar. A barrier was placed on Sunny’s mind from an outside source, as if protecting him from what he was about to witness.

A titanic form of molten stone and trembling light emerged from the thinning veils of existence. THEIR shape was not THEIR true essence, but a mercy — a fragile echo shaped into forms the mortal mind could endure. Claws of ancient rock, cracked and glowing with golden fire, hovered in open defiance of gravity. THEIR core, a roiling mass of broken stone and endless flame, pulsed with the heartbeat of an age before all memory. Deep within that molten heart, impossible geometries shifted and churned, whispering truths too vast for any human tongue to speak.

Qlipoth watched Sunny, not with eyes, but through the full weight of inevitability itself. The world bent under THEIR attention. It was not judgment, nor kindness. It was the cold patience of earth awaiting the slow creep of time. It was the solemn vow of mountains standing silent beneath the sky.

Preservation.

This was not the kindness of protection, nor the comfort of shelter. It was the brutal, sacred truth that some things must endure beyond ruin. It was the refusal of existence to be unraveled. It was the law written in stone, in roots, in the last defiant breath of dying worlds — both of them.

Not mere protection, not idle shielding from harm — no, what Qlipoth embodied was far more sacred. It was the unspoken promise of the Universe to endure. It was the unyielding resistance against entropy itself. It was the sacred vow that some things must never be lost, no matter how cruel the storm, how long the dark, how inevitable the decay.

Without a word, THEY bestowed THEIR gift to him. A fragment of THEIR boundless Will — distilled into pure Preservation — lanced through the veil of mortality and sank into his very soul, absorbed by Sunny’s Monster Core. His body bent, nearly broken under the burden of it, but his spirit grasped it with desperate reverence.

Above him, the great and incomprehensible form of Qlipoth faded, returning to whatever deeper place THEY called THEIR home. Yet THEIR presence did not vanish. It remained within him, heavy and silent and unbreakable.

When he rose from where he knelt, flaming lance in hand, he was something more than boy. He was a foundation. A monument. A living declaration that though the stars might fall and the seas might turn to dust, there would be something left that refused to yield. Two shadows looked upon him — one Gloomy, the other Happy.

Deeply breathing, a small smirk rose on Sunny’s face. His molten gaze radiated haughtiness and arrogance, as if the world revolved around him like he was the main character.

He laughed, his voice echoing for nobody to hear. The elusive gods watched with THEIR incomprehensible consciousnesses as a single boy dared to defy death, his will smoldering as it spread through the Path Space.

Despite the numerous entities that gazed upon him with unknown intents, Sunny couldn’t care less.

He was Sunless, the treacherous Lost From Light, and he would never bend to the world’s whims.

For he is no mere slave.

***

’What...?’

Seele’s mind froze as she watched Sunny get impaled by the frozen lance. Soon after, spears of ice gruesomely sprouted out of his body.

He fell.

To Seele, the entire world was a intersecting nexus of death. Each crimson line spoke of a way to kill someone, or something. However, the lines between living beings and inanimate objects were instinctively different to her.

The lines engraved into the falling figure were dull, showing that there was no life within it; no soul to destroy. No matter how much she tried to deny it, she already understood the haunting truth.

Sunny was dead.

An intense dizziness assaulted her. Almost instinctively, she leaped off the arm of the Engine of Creation. Crashing into the ground — kicking up a cloud of snow — she attempted to use her Aspect to quickly flutter to the point he was going land at.

It didn’t work. She had completely run dry on Soul Essence.

Even so, she ran as fast as she could, stumbling and slipping as she repeatedly lost her footing on the uneven, battle-scarred surface of Everwinter Hill.

’If... if I catch him, maybe...’

A false hope rose in her chest.

Understanding the truth and accepting it were two different things.

...She didn’t reach him in time. Sunny’s body sunk slightly into the snow, his fall cushioned by the white flakes. As she approached the corpse, she raised her hand.

She froze.

’Wha— what if... he falls apart?’

When Seele’s Aspect was active, any line she traced would cause damage. She didn’t get to choose if a cut would appear or not. As such, Veliona was always careful to always keep her hands in one place when making physical contact with others.

In her current state — one that was both Seele and Veliona — the same rule applied.

However, she irrationally feared that her hand would slip when holding or carrying his corpse causing him to shatter into countless pieces.

She couldn’t even bring herself to touch him.

She just looked.

His gray hair and golden eyes had mysteriously turned black. The latter were wide open, displaying them during his moment of death. His lips were slightly parted, revealing a trickle of blood due to his destroyed organs.

A glacial lance was lodged in his chest, stained with his blood. The red liquid slowly moved, seemingly returning to his body due to gravity. Right next to it was a spear of ice, gruesomely tearing out of his sternum. Another spear poked out his side, and his shoulder, and his thigh.

If one were to look closely, there were numerous spikes of poking out of his skin, revealing that there was even more carnage within him.

Seele found it disgusting.

Veliona found it regrettable.

The crimson claws began to shatter into butterflies as their thoughts began to conflict with each other.

However, a single thought stood out among the rest.

"I’ll kill her.]

Seele mumbled under her breath. This desire was not her own, but one that belonged to both her and Veliona.

The claws began to reassemble themselves, returning to their previous state. Looking towards the sky she saw a floating figure; she became expressionless, only one visible emotion within her mismatched eyes:

[Hate].

Just as she was about to step forward to unleash her wrath, a massive ice spear was already in the sky. The process of forming it was almost instantaneous, and before she knew it, it had already launched towards Seele at an insurmountable speed. She could have dodged if she had Soul Essence left, but...

Suddenly, a calming warmth was felt by her. Seele shivered in confusion, her murderous state being ruthlessly broken as her claws faded away once more. An excruciating pain welled up within her eyes, causing her to shut them. At the same time, she helplessly waited for the spear to crash into her.

Blinded, disarmed, and drowning in the depths of despair, Seele could only wait for death.

Something violently exploded, causing her footing to become unstable. With her eyes being shut tight, she couldn’t keep her balance. She began to fall.

She felt someone’s arm hold her up, wrapping behind her back.

’Who...?’

Enduring the pain, she opened her bleeding eyes. The figure before her was blurry, but she could barely make it out.

Her breath hitched.

A pale, porcelain face came into view, framed by black hair. She stared in disbelief at the pair of eyes before her; dark irises surrounded glowing amber pupils, creating the effect of a stalwart light in the darkness. Paired with the infuriating smirk, he not only seemed to feel like the center of the world, but Seele almost thought he was.

In his other hand was an amber lance, stabbed into the snow. Looking up, Seele saw a translucent barrier that was reminiscent of Geomarrow, a molten glow radiating from it. The barrier was just large enough to cover the two of them. Seele...

And Sunny.

"Tears of blood, huh? Should I be flattered?"

Sunny’s voice brimmed with haughtiness and self-importance. Seele’s lips trembled as she struggled to speak.

"You... you’re dead."

Somehow, he seemed even more sturdy than before he was seemingly killed. As he kept her from falling, a strange emotion rose in Seele’s chest.

She felt... protected.

Sunny raised his chin.

"That? Well, I suppose I did die..."

He shrugged as if it was a normal occurrence.

"I got better."