Shadow Oath

Chapter 46: Tanu

“Tanu was the youngest among the children born to the supreme god Raham.

However, since his elder siblings had already taken over the world, there was nothing left for him to do.

I say ‘he,’ but no one knows if Tanu was male or female.

The story varies depending on who tells it.

With no purpose, Tanu wandered without even a place to stay, eventually demanding a task from his father, Raham.

Raham, having already distributed all responsibilities, had nothing left to give.

After much thought, Raham assigned Tanu the task of ruling over shadows.

Tanu willingly accepted the role of the god of shadows, intending to govern them.

However, shadows merely followed whatever they were attached to and couldn’t do anything on their own.

The other sibling gods mocked Tanu.

They laughed at him for accepting a meaningless task, calling it a fake role.

Tanu became enraged.

In his anger, he took back all the shadows.

Living beings, now devoid of their shadows, lost their vitality and became incapable of doing anything.

Raham, furious, led the siblings to kill Tanu.

It was Crena who intervened, persuading them.

To a mother, after all, Tanu was still her child.

Even Tanu couldn’t resist his mother’s persuasion.

In return, he agreed to give back the shadows but demanded a price: life itself.

It was a kind of rental fee.

Thus, when the rental period equivalent to the value of a life ended, the shadow had to be returned to Tanu.

That is death.

All beings with shadows are destined to die someday… That’s the essence of our mythology.

For that reason, Tanu became not only the god of shadows but also the god of death.

The problem lay with the gods’ own shadows.

Since gods also had shadows, they too had to return them to Tanu eventually.

However, the gods didn’t want to relinquish their shadows.

For the immortal gods, death was an unacceptable condition.

Raham wove threads from the flames of Akamantum’s fire and the ice of Ablim’s river, stitching his shadow to his body.

Seeing this, the other gods followed suit.

Tanu waited.

He thought that with time, the gods would return their shadows to him and join him.

He hoped that when that time came, he would have family to share his feelings with.

But no one came.

Perplexed, Tanu eventually realized the truth.

He was furious.

Immensely so.

All he had ever wanted was a family, but he believed they had betrayed him.

Imagine the depth of that anger.

Tanu began tearing pieces of his shadow and placing them into snake eggs to nurture them.

As the god of shadows, shadows were infinitely generated to replace those he removed.

He repeated the process of taking new shadows, placing them into the eggs, over and over.

Eventually, the eggs became full of shadows and cracked open.

From them emerged snakes made entirely of shadow.

The name of the snake was Malarrhatu.

Since it was born by consuming Tanu’s shadow, the snake craved shadows, especially those of gods.

This was exactly why it was created.

The snake grew underground, devouring humans who had lost their shadows.

It kept growing, and when it became large enough to consume even the shadows of gods, it would emerge and devour them.

A world without gods would collapse.

That’s how we believe the world will end…”

Ram asked the question he had been holding back the entire time.

“So, does that mean Tanu can only continue living if someone dies?”

Although Ram spoke in the southern tongue, Jedric responded in Geran to maintain the flow.

“Tanu was born when Raham had an affair with a human woman, so he did not inherit the power of immortality.”

Jedric stared at the crackling flames spreading across the dry wood as he continued.

“That’s why he’s so determined to collect shadows.

The more shadows he gathers, the longer he can extend his own life.”

“But didn’t you just say Crena called Tanu her child?

Doesn’t that mean Tanu isn’t actually Crena’s child?”

“Crena forgives all.

She accepts all things in the world as her children.

Even if Tanu was born from her husband’s affair, she treated him no differently.

Of course, she punished Raham for his infidelity.

Still, she raised Tanu as her own child.

Without Crena, Raham and Tanu would have gone to war.

Tanu would have lost, but the aftermath of the war would have destroyed humanity.

Crena foresaw this and prevented the war.”

Jedric’s eyes reflected the firelight, appearing both deep and radiant.

Unlike the other Gerans, his face was smooth and unblemished, his neatly braided hair immaculate.

Even his attire, befitting a chieftain, looked surprisingly appropriate on him now, despite seeming more suited for someone older.

Compared to Ikahm, who looked like a warrior born and raised on battlefields, Jedric seemed like a noble lady raised delicately indoors.

Jedric continued speaking in Geran.

When he spoke his own language, his voice resonated with greater depth than when he used the Triton tongue.

“You look troubled.

What did Olga tell you?

Is that why you went to Terrdin?

And because your doubts weren’t resolved, you’ve come to ask me these questions?”

He was astute, though not boastful about it.

Even the villagers’ attitudes made it clear.

Despite being a chieftain, Jedric was disregarded by the people.

For them, the rightful heir to Adian Mantum was Ikahm, not ‘Jeje.’

Ram thought Jedric’s beautiful features were admirable, but for the Gerans, they were seen as weak.

Even his clear, resonant voice, which Ram found pleasant, was deemed too soft to suit a warrior.

Ikahm intended to place his younger brother in the chieftain’s position while continuing to rule the village himself.

He would command his brother to die, forcing him to sacrifice himself for the village without a shred of guilt.

As an elder brother, he would see it as his rightful authority, while Jedric would accept it as his duty as the younger sibling.

“No.

I just wanted to tell someone, and you’re the only one I could talk to.”

“You just wanted to talk?

Interesting.

To think I’ve become someone you feel close enough to confide in.”

“I know.

I shouldn’t feel that way about you.

I have no right.

I… I killed your father…”

“Stop!”

Jedric’s expression hardened.

Ram defied him for the first time.

“Why didn’t you tell Ikahm?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Forgive me.

I overheard your conversation with him.

I know why you surrendered, what you’re trying to uncover, all of it.”

“You have sharp ears.

We weren’t exactly being discreet, I suppose…”

“You know who the ‘person’ Ikahm is looking for is.

Why didn’t you tell him?

Why did you say you didn’t know?”

“I said don’t talk about it!”

Jedric looked around cautiously.

Even though they were speaking Geran, and the guards were posted outside the hall, there were ears everywhere.

Ram spoke softly.

“If you had told Ikahm and taken me to him, I would have gone.”

“You would’ve died.”

“If my death could save you, then it would have been a worthy death.”

“You think I would’ve lived if I said nothing and you died? Don’t spout nonsense.

And don’t talk about ‘worthy deaths!’ Every life has worth.

So…”

“Not every life has the same value.

I’m nothing, anyway…”

Ram chuckled bitterly.

But it was awkward, so he didn’t truly laugh.

“Olga says I’m Tanu.”

“Olga called you that?”

“Yes.

And so did Maraka.

The King of Shadows?

It’s ridiculous.

I’m just General Terrdin’s shadow.

The Prince’s shadow.

One day, Tanu will collect my shadow, and if that improves your life, Jedric, it will be enough.”

Jedric let out a dry laugh.

“What do you know about me to say that?

Do you think I’m better than you?”

“Yes, you are a good person.

For your village.

For protecting your brother.

You’ve sacrificed yourself for others, and that makes you a good person.

Far better than someone like me.”

Jedric’s face filled with disbelief.

“Why would you think that?”

“It’s simple.

Even though I don’t fully understand Geran customs and hierarchy, I know ‘Elhorn’ isn’t a low position.

It’s high.

But the villagers don’t treat you that way.

Even the other Ehodins who likely supported your position as Elhorn don’t show you respect.

Geran etiquette may differ from ours, but basic conduct should be similar.

Yet that’s entirely absent here.”

Jedric casually added more firewood to the flames.

It was unclear if he wanted to make the fire larger or mask their voices with the crackling.

“You said it yourself, didn’t you?

You came to see who killed Mantum and how they died.

But after that, you stopped asking about who died or how.

If you were following Ikahm’s plan, you should still be searching for that answer, but you aren’t.”

“…That’s true.

I haven’t been.”

“You came here to die.

You surrendered to buy Ikahm time to rebuild the village and rally the tribes while General Terrdin focused on you.

Am I wrong?”

“You’re not entirely accurate, but you’re close enough…”

Jedric looked at Ram with a startled expression, as if realizing something.

“Why… are you crying?”

Ram hadn’t noticed until Jedric pointed it out.

He didn’t bother to wipe away the tears.

“You’re a good person, Jedric.

If I die and you live, that’s enough for me.

In my Geran, I can only say it like this: I like you, Jedric.

As much as I like Prince Demion and General Terrdin.

I want you to live.”

Jedric reached out and wiped the tears from Ram’s face.

“You still have things you want to say to me, don’t you?

But you can’t, can you?”

Ram nodded.

“Then don’t say them.

Even if you were the one who did ‘that thing’ I’m thinking of, I wouldn’t blame you.

I like you too.

I like Demion.

I like Charlon.

But we’re not supposed to talk about these things, are we?

Let’s never speak of this again.”

Jedric closed his eyes tightly, then opened them.

“Go to sleep. We have much to do tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

That was Ram's reply, but he had no intention of sleeping.

If something were to happen, it would happen tonight.

He couldn't afford to fall asleep at such a time.

He deliberately sat in front of the fire, trying to resist sleep, but it was futile.

The warmth of the fire contributed to his drowsiness.

Ram eventually fell asleep sitting up.

In his dream, Ram's hands were covered in blood.

The familiar sensation of holding a knife told him what he had done.

He had killed someone.

But who had he killed?

He couldn’t remember.

Was there an assassination order?

Who gave the order?

Ram groped through the darkness.

He felt the cold body of a corpse.

Had he killed them?

He couldn’t even tell who it was.

He heard wet footsteps squelching closer.

Someone was approaching with a lantern.

Barefoot, they left muddy footprints with each step.

A rotten stench filled the air.

A ghoul?

There was a legend in the north about evil spirits that rose from the dead to devour the living.

To prevent this, cursed corpses were to be burned instead of buried.

However, Ram had recently buried someone who might have been cursed without burning them, fearing the smoke would draw attention.

The figure approaching Ram turned out to be Zenri.

His eyes had been eaten by insects, leaving dark hollows, and worms wriggled out from a hole in his cheek.

Though Zenri had no tongue, he spoke.

“You did well, didn’t you?”

Zenri shone the lantern downward.

Ram looked down.

It was Demion, his throat slit.

There was another corpse.

It was Jedric.

And another.

It was Charlon.

The clean, precise cuts on their bodies were unmistakably Ram’s handiwork.

Ram tried to scream, but no sound came out.

Zenri laughed.

“The next target is Terrdin.

Then Ikahm.

Then King Gallant.

But it doesn’t end there.”

Zenri grabbed Ram’s shoulders, his rotting stench overwhelming as he shouted.

“You’re my slave.

Even in death, that doesn’t change.

You’ll work for me forever.”

Zenri began to chant.

“Tanu.

Tanu.

Tanu.

You must kill someone to keep living.”

Ram woke from the nightmare.

Although he had screamed so loudly in his dream, he hadn’t made a sound in reality.

Not even a breath.

It was a habit of his.

Especially now, as someone was approaching.

Looking ahead, he saw Jedric, also asleep with his arms folded, curling up as though he too was having a nightmare.

His face contorted in pain, and his body twitched.

Ram closed his eyes, pretending to sleep, while focusing on the sound.

He sharpened all his senses to distinguish between dream and reality.

Someone was definitely approaching.

Two guards were stationed at the main entrance, and there were also two more at the door used for serving food.

Additionally, ten knights patrolled the area around the banquet hall.

Who could possibly slip past all that and come in?

Could it just be a patrolling knight inspecting something?

The footsteps sounded suspicious.

It wasn’t the soft tread of someone trying not to disturb sleepers.

Rather, it was deliberate, as if the person was intentionally suppressing the sound of their steps.

To Ram’s trained ears, the difference was obvious.

Ram reached for his dagger.

His longsword had been confiscated by the knights, but Maraka’s dagger had been left untouched, placed within reach.

However, he didn’t grab it immediately, wanting to gauge the intruder’s intent.

“If the intruder draws their weapon, I’ll grab mine then.”

Then he realized his mistake.

What if the intruder already had their weapon drawn?

He had been planning to react to the sound of a weapon being unsheathed, but if the attack came silently, he would be too late.

The person quickened their pace when they were just three steps away from Ram.

They didn’t run but moved faster, still minimizing their noise.

“An assassination.”

In that case, the target would be his neck.

The torso, protected by leather armor, wasn’t a likely target.

The assassin wouldn’t use a large sword to decapitate him but would aim to stab or slice the throat with a dagger.

If it were an assassination, the first move would be to cover the mouth.

There were two methods.

First, covering the mouth before stabbing.

Second, stabbing first and then covering the mouth.

A skilled assassin would choose the latter.

As the intruder reached right behind him, Ram suddenly turned to the side.

His prediction was correct.

The attacker had intended to stab the back of his neck but missed and stumbled forward.

Quickly recovering, the intruder reversed their grip on the dagger and swung it toward Ram’s throat.

Ram blocked the attacker’s wrist with his forearm.

At the same time, he grabbed Maraka’s dagger, which he had picked up during his sidestep.

Ram drove his dagger into the attacker’s neck.

Only after the attacker collapsed did Ram realize how much of his actions had been instinctive, performed in a half-asleep state.

He hadn’t even identified his opponent.

He had focused solely on surviving, reacting on reflex without considering calling for help.

The attacker staggered, clutching the dagger embedded in their neck, before collapsing to the ground.

Ram knelt as well, exhausted.

The attacker tried to say something, their single visible eye wide open.

Ram noticed now that the other eye was covered by a black bandage.

The attacker couldn’t speak and soon fell forward, twitching a few times before going still.

Ram had seen people die like this countless times.

Not once had anyone survived in this state, even with immediate treatment.

The attacker was dead.

Though the fire had dimmed, Ram recognized who it was.

He had to confirm it.

If he was right, it would be a serious problem.

Pulling the body to check the face, he confirmed it.

“Your Highness! Prince Demion!”

Ram shouted, not knowing what else to do.

Jedric was the first to awaken at the sound.

He, too, was startled to find the dead body.

One of the guards stationed outside also entered upon hearing the commotion, gasping in shock at the sight of the corpse.

It took longer for Demion to arrive, and until then, no one in the room spoke a word.

The person Ram had killed was Captain Clave, the commander of King Gallant’s Royal Guard.