Shadow Slave - One Shots

The Nameless Temple stood in defiance of time, an ancient citadel swallowed by perpetual darkness. Carved from what it seems to be black marble, its towering pillars stretched skyward, their once grand reliefs now worn and fractured by time.

The temple loomed at the very edge of a vast abyss, its foundation merging with the jagged stone as if it had grown from the land itself.

The air here was thick with the weight of forgotten history, carrying the scent of a forgotten hero. As if this place was covered with the mist of the Hollow Mountains. Shadows coiled unnaturally within its vast halls, shifting as though aware, waiting.

Nestled between the Song Domain and Sword Domain, the temple lay in the heart of Godgrave, a forsaken land where nightmares of Great rank prowled, where death was not an end but an inevitability. The surrounding terrain was a wasteland of jagged rock and skeletal remains, the aftermath of countless battles lost to time.

Above, the sky churned with storm-laden clouds, casting flickering shadows that breathed with the wind. Nightmare Creatures that ranged through the ranks of a Great Beast littered the ground before the temple's entrance. 

Few dared to approach, and were only left alive not because of the nightmare creatures, but because of the temple's silent sentinels.

A lone warrior clad in eerie, living armor stood at the gates, motionless yet imposing, a crimson glow seeping from the visor of her helmet. Her jagged greatsword rested at her side, darkened by the blood of countless battles, a silent executioner waiting for the next foolish intruder.

Yet even more unsettling was the other guardian, a hunched, slithering figure that moved along the temple's ruined halls. Its elongated limbs scraped against stone with a grating sound, its too-wide, too-sharp grin stretched in twisted amusement.

It watched, patient yet restless, like a predator toying with its prey, waiting for the moment to strike. This "predator" for some reason kept staring at the lone warrior who stood watching motionlessly, almost as if he was trying to… impress her...

*************************************************

In God Grave, hidden from the temple's view, a group of travelers from the Song Domain stood frozen in place. Their only purpose was a simple offering to the new Saint, for the Saint to join hands with Song for the upcoming war. Their journey had taken them dangerously close to the cursed lands of Godgrave, but the sight before them was not one they could have ever prepared for.

A dark figure moved through the battlefield of dead nightmare creatures, his blade carving through the monstrous flesh like it was paper. The ease with which he fought was terrifying, his movements fluid yet efficient, not a single wasted strike. Each strike coordinated, as if he was dancing. 

The creatures, fearful and filled with strength, stood no chance. They were not weak, if you consider Great Beasts weak. But, they fell like mere insects before the shadow clad warrior. His odachi severed limbs, bisected torsos, and ended lives with ruthless precision.

The ground beneath his feet was slick with blackened ichor, the remnants of his latest victims steaming as their unnatural essence was extinguished.

A traveler, no younger than 60, with silver-streaked hair, trembled as he whispered,

"A monster… No, worse. He is something beyond human."

The others remained silent, unable to look away. Their eyes drifted to the towering temple behind him, its black marble walls looming over the battlefield like a specter of doom. And then, they saw them, the two figures watching from the temple's entrance.

The armored knight and the grinning fiend. They did not interfere. They did not move. As if they knew the outcome was already decided.

The traveler beside the old man shook in fear as he struggled to get his words out. 

"I-Is that..?" The old man nodded.

The warrior finished his slaughter and stood amidst the carnage, his armor glistening with the blood of nightmares.

He did not turn toward the travelers, did not acknowledge their existence, yet they felt his presence settle over them like a suffocating weight. 

"Lord of Shadows..."

Then, as if the shadows themselves obeyed his will, he stepped back toward the temple, vanishing into its black embrace without a sound. 

*************************************************

Nephis stood at the edge of the ruined causeway, her silver eyes narrowing as she studied the Nameless Temple in the distance. It was a place of secrets, of a presence that had randomly appeared with no information over. And within it waited the man… or woman she had come to see.

Behind her, the Fire Keepers stood in quiet formation. Their armor bore the scars of countless battles, their weapons tempered by blood and fire. The long dreadful fight of the abominations in the death zone caused this, after all. 

["You're sure about this?"] - Cassie's voice brushed against her mind.

["He's a factor we can't ignore. If we're going to survive what's coming, we need him."]

Nephis exhaled slowly

["And if he refuses?"] There was a pause before Cassie responded.

["Then we make sure he understands he has no choice."] Nephis's fingers tightened around her sword.

A few of the Fire Keepers muttered among themselves. One, named Sid frowned.

"This is a mistake. He's not like us. He's something else."

"He's a survivor," another answered. "And we need one of those."

They reached the threshold of the temple, and the Fire Keepers hesitated. Some ancient force seemed to press down upon them, as if the place itself was aware of their intrusion.

Nephis, however, did not stop. She had fought various nightmare creatures, some ranks above her own. She would not falter now.

Inside, the temple was silent. The hall stretched before her, its vast emptiness swallowed by the dark. And then, from the depths of that darkness, stood a figure.

Sunny sat upon a fractured throne of blackened stone, one leg propped up lazily, his form draped in layers of obsidian armor that seemed to drink in the dim light. The segmented plates bore the marks of countless battles, yet they moved with unnatural fluidity, molded perfectly to his every motion.

In his grasp rested a massive black odachi, its blade impossibly dark, as if it were a sliver of night itself given form. Even at rest, the weapon seemed to hum with restrained menace.

The Weaver's Mask was more than a mere accessory, it was a relic, a thing of dark artistry woven from Weaver himself. Forged from an obsidian-like material, its surface was covered with intricate, almost organic patterns that seemed to change its users appearance at times. Twin, curved horns arched backward, lending it a regal yet menacing silhouette with a short one in the middle.

He did not speak. He simply watched, waiting.

Nephis took another step forward, unflinching. "We need to talk."

Sunny tilted his head. "Do we?"

She met his gaze, her silver eyes unyielding.

"We need you."

Silence stretched between them, thick with unknown history. Then, with a smirk, Sunny stood up from the throne and walked towards her.

"Then let's talk."

*************************************************

Their blades sang coordinated symphony, steel kissing steel through the cold.

Nephis moved like a storm, relentless, consuming. Each of her attacks carried the weight of purpose, a promise to win the Lord of Shadows over to her side. White Flames trailed behind her sword.

But Sunny met her with shadows following his every move, his odachi an extension of his will.

She knew his strength, hearing a lot about the Lord of Shadows. But facing him now, she realized something.

He was better. Far better than Changing Star.

She swung at his side, her blade a streak of silver fire. He twisted at the last moment, his black odachi deflecting her strike in a blur of motion.

The impact sent a shudder through her arm, but she pressed forward, stepping into the attack, using her weight to push him back. He yielded just enough, turning her force against her.

Her instincts screamed. A flicker of shadow, his foot hooked behind her ankle. She barely wrenched herself free before he could send her tumbling.

Sunny grinned beneath the Weaver's Mask.

"Close."

Nephis ignored the flash of frustration curling in her chest. 

She drove her knee toward his ribs. Shifting his free arm slightly, he caught it with his forearm, then lashed out with his pommel, forcing her back.

She took a measured step away, leveling her blade.

For a moment, only the whisper of the wind filled the temple.

"You're holding back," she said, her voice quiet but edged with certainty.

Sunny chuckled, resting his odachi at his shoulder. "Am I?" His cold, indifferent voice boomed through the temple.

Her grip on her sword tightened. "Don't insult me."

The flames surrounding her flared brighter, while the shadows beneath Sunny deepened, as if intertwining with each other.

And then, they charged.

She struck first, her sword an arc of blinding white flame. Sunny ducked beneath it, moving with the effortless grace of someone who had fought for many years.

His odachi swept upward in a merciless counter, forcing her to deflect. The force sent her staggering back a step.

A single step too many.

He stepped inside her guard before she could recover.

A blur of motion. His pommel slammed into her ribs. Pain exploded through her side, her balance breaking. Before she could react, his foot hooked behind her leg again, this time, she couldn't escape.

She fell.

The Changing Star fell beneath a Treacherous Shadow.

The world spun as she hit the stone floor, the breath driven from her lungs. Before she could move, the cold kiss of an odachi's edge pressed against her throat.

Silence.

Sunny loomed over her, his shadow swallowing the firelight. He tilted his head.

"Far too weak, Changing Star." His voice carried a tint of arrogance.

Nephis stared up at him, chest rising and falling, the fire in her silver eyes still burning. Then, after a long pause, she let out a quiet breath.

"Looks like I won." He stared at her through his mask.

A smirk tugged at her lips.

"For now."

Sunny laughed. He stepped back, lowering his blade. "Yeah. For now."

The Fire Keepers released the breaths they hadn't realized they were holding. The battle was over. The tension, however, was far from gone.

Nephis stood, dusting herself off, her expression unreadable. But as she met the Shadow's gaze once more, something flickered in her eyes, something between acceptance and challenge.

She understood it now. 

She understood why people called him...

"The Lord Of Shadows".