Shadow Slave : Shadow Clan

The chamber was vast and ancient, carved deep into the mountain beneath the city. Cold stone walls bore carvings of battles long forgotten—some etched with reverence, others scorched by wrath. Tall pillars lined the circular room like sentinels, and above, a fractured mosaic dome let through slivers of dying daylight.

At the center stood a black stone table, scarred with age and soaked with stories.

There, two titans of the past met again—not as warriors of legend, but as parents, as old friends bearing the weight of what must come.

Olivia, matriarch of the Shadow Clan, stood draped in shadowwoven robes that moved like silk in moonlight. Her silver-streaked hair was tied high, revealing the battle-hardened sharpness in her jaw, the softness that now lived behind her eyes. She looked not just like a leader—but like a woman who had survived everything except her own memories.

Across from her stood Broken Sword.

The man who had once split monsters like paper with a single swing now bore a quiet gravity. His long coat was faded, his blade sealed on his back, and his gaze—hard and weathered—still burned with a father's fire. His hands rested on the table, but they twitched faintly, the echo of battles that still lived in his bones.

"You're really going to the Fourth nightmare Seed?" Olivia asked at last, her voice steady… but hushed.

Broken Sword nodded. "It's the only way."

Her fingers curled slightly. "The Fourth is not a proving ground. It's a graveyard."

"I'm aware."

She stared at him for a long breath, her dark eyes unblinking. "You'll be with Anvil, Ki Song, and Asterion. They were once noble. Now? They teeter on madness. If one of them falls…"

"I'll handle it," Broken Sword said.

"No," Olivia cut in. "Don't lie to me. Will you be able to kill them? Your comrades?"

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut stone.

Finally, he looked up. His voice came low.

"If they stand between me and saving what's left of this world—yes. I'll cut them down. No hesitation."

Her gaze softened. Not with mercy—but with memory.

"They were your brothers," she whispered.

"They were. But Nephis is my daughter."

The name lingered in the chamber like a prayer.

Broken Sword looked away, as if unable to face the weight of it. "If I don't return… someone will have to reach her. To keep her safe. I know she's stubborn. Cold. But she's… she's still a girl. Still learning how to live without a mother."

"I know," Olivia said gently. "I've watched her. I've held her when she couldn't sleep."

His eyes flicked back, startled. She nodded slowly.

"I didn't raise her. But I've claimed her."

He closed his eyes.

"I need a promise," he said, barely above a whisper. "If I fall in there… will you bring her back to your estate? To safety? Even if she runs?"

Olivia didn't hesitate. She stepped forward and placed her hand over his chest.

"Always."

The Nightmare Gate deep below let out a faint tremble—ancient gears groaning as it responded to the command of a Supreme-level candidate.

Broken Sword strapped on his worn gauntlets, steel forged from a forgotten world. His greatsword pulsed softly on his back.

"Do you remember," he said suddenly, "the last time we stood like this? Right before Abel died at the hands of that worm?"

Olivia froze. Her breath caught.

Then she looked down.

"He never came back."

Broken Sword placed a hand on her shoulder. "Then let's not make this another goodbye."

As he turned to go, Broken sword called her.

"And Olivia?"

"Yes?"

"I hope the world never needs our children like it needed us."

She watched him walk into darkness.

And when he was gone, she whispered into the silence, "Then we'd better make sure they're ready anyway."

——

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting flickering light against the dark stone walls of the living room. Outside, snow fell in a lazy dance beyond the wide windows, turning the forest into a hushed white veil. The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

Sunny sat curled on the arm of the sofa, a book left forgotten in his lap. He wasn't reading. His eyes were fixed on the fire, distant and still, like he was trying to read meaning in the flames.

Across from him, Rain lay stretched out on the couch, her little head resting on Olivia's lap. She hugged her stuffed rabbit close, but didn't speak. She hadn't said much for the last few days.

Olivia gently brushed strands of hair from her daughter's forehead. She wore no armor today, only a long dark robe wrapped tightly around her, but even then, her presence was commanding. Yet her eyes were tired—more tired than Sunny had seen in a long time.

One week.

It had been one week since Jet entered the Dream Realm. One week since she'd crossed the veil of sleep in search of a path forward. Her mission: to find a Dream Gate. To escape. To survive.

But the Dream Realm was never kind. And always shifting.

Sunny finally broke the silence.

"Do you think… she's okay?"

His voice was quiet. But Olivia heard the tremble in it.

"I don't know," she replied, just as gently. "But if anyone can survive in that place… it's Jet."

Sunny looked down, clenching his fist. "She didn't even say goodbye."

"She didn't want you to worry," Olivia said, her fingers still stroking Rain's hair. "She thought she could do it quietly. Be strong. Come back before anyone noticed."

Rain sat up a little, her voice barely above a whisper. "But she's been gone so long…"

Olivia nodded, holding her close. "Yes, she has. That's why I've sent word to Julius."

"Julius is… in there too?" Sunny asked, eyes widening.

"He volunteered," Olivia said. "The Dream Realm is vast and cruel, but he knows it well. If Jet is still alive—and I believe she is—he'll find her."

The room lapsed into silence again. A log snapped in the fire.

Sunny looked up at the ceiling. The shadows danced above, restless.

"She said she'd always protect us," he murmured. "Now it feels like we couldn't protect her."

Olivia turned toward her son. Her voice, though low, cut through the weight in the air.

"She is not gone."

"But what if—"

"She is not gone, Sunny."

He stared into his mother's eyes, and for a moment, the child in him fought the young warrior he was becoming.

Rain suddenly reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing tight.

"She'll come back," she said, her eyes firm. "She promised me she'd help me with my school project."

Sunny gave a shaky laugh. "Yeah. She said she'd spar me again when I'm stronger."

Olivia finally allowed herself a small smile. It didn't reach her eyes. But it was real.

"She's probably out there giving the Nightmare creatures a headache."

Sunny nodded.

The snow kept falling. And in the warmth of the firelight, the three of them held onto hope.

Quietly. Fiercely.

Together.

—-

The moon hung low above NSQC, casting pale silver light over the Shadow Clan mansion. All was still. The household slept in silence, wrapped in the comfort of warm blankets and peaceful dreams.

Until the alarm shattered the night.

A shrill, unearthly chime echoed through the halls—low at first, then rising with an eerie, ancient resonance. It wasn't a man-made system. It was older. Deeper.

A memory alarm.

Olivia's eyes flew open.

For a split second, she didn't move. Her heart thundered in her chest like a war drum. And then—she remembered. The memory Broken Sword had left her, like a parting gift sealed in Ki and blood.

"If this ever triggers, it means I'm dying—or Nephis is."

Olivia's breath hitched.

She threw off her blanket and sprinted barefoot down the hall, a pulse of fear pressing hard into her spine. The house was cold, but her skin burned with urgency.

The living room lights flicked on automatically as she stormed in.

Seconds later, Sunny burst in, barefoot and shirtless, hair messy from sleep. Rain followed, still holding her plush rabbit, blinking fast and scared.

"Mom? What's happening?" Sunny asked, voice tight.

Olivia's eyes glowed faintly with Ki as she looked at them. Her words came hard and fast.

"Nephis is in danger. I have to go—now."

Sunny stepped forward immediately. "Then I'm coming with—"

"No." Olivia's voice cracked like thunder. "You stay here. Both of you."

"But—!"

"This is not a fight you're ready for, Sunny." Her tone softened for only a moment. "If something happens to me… you protect Rain."

Rain looked up at her, face pale. "Will you come back?"

"I promise." Olivia knelt down and kissed Rain's forehead. "I'll come back with Nephis."

Then she stood, pulling on her shadow-forged coat. Her badge of the Shadow Clan burned black on her chest. With a flick of her wrist, a comm-crystal formed between her fingers.

"This is Olivia," she said, her voice now steel. "All Black Rings, assemble at the Immortal Flame Clan estate. Now."

A dozen shadowy voices confirmed within seconds.

Sunny stood frozen, fists clenched. He wanted to argue. Wanted to demand she take him.

But the look in her eyes stopped him cold.

This wasn't the composed mother he ate waffles with.

This was Olivia of the Shadows.

The one who had risen from the outskirts to become transcendent.

The one who had survived the Fall.

The one Broken Sword had trusted with Nephis's life.

She gave them one last look, her voice softer now.

"Stay together. Watch the windows. And Sunny… you'll know when it's time. But not yet."

And then she turned, vanished into the night with the gust of a door flung open, her long coat fluttering like wings of midnight.

——-

Nephis POV:

The dream-shard shattered.

It wasn't loud. It was felt. A searing cold rush through her chest, like the memory of a scream that hadn't yet happened. Nephis woke with a start, heart hammering.

Something was wrong. Deeply, terribly wrong.

The moonlight spilled across her room in silver threads, quiet, still—too still. But her instincts screamed. And then—

Bang.

The door to her room flew open.

"N-Nephis, come with me—now!" The voice belonged to one of the household nannies, her face pale with panic. Her voice cracked like brittle glass.

Nephis didn't hesitate. She grabbed the pendant her father had given her and ran barefoot into the hall, her white sleepwear fluttering like a ghost behind her.

The mansion was chaos.

People ran—some she recognized as staff, others masked in black, moving with deadly precision. Shadows and blood smeared across the marble floors.

It wasn't a simple attack.

This was a betrayal.

She skidded behind a broken wall, her lungs shaking. From the cracks, she saw it—members of their own clan… turning their blades on their kin.

And worst of all—

"Where is the girl? The daughter?"

"Find her. Broken Sword is gone."

"We need her alive."

Alive.

Not safe.

Nephis felt a sob rise in her throat—but she swallowed it. Now wasn't the time to cry.

But gods, she was terrified.

Where was her father?

She looked down at the shard she had kept with her—a fragment of a dream memory. It had cracked in her sleep. Her father's emergency seal. A sign he was in danger. Or worse.

That's when it hit her like ice.

He had sent her that memory… because he knew they were coming for her.

The nanny pulled her again. "Move! Now, before they see—"

An explosion rocked the wing, throwing both of them to the ground. Nephis's ears rang. Dust choked the air. She scrambled up, blood trailing from a cut on her leg.

The nanny didn't rise.

"No…" Nephis whispered, crawling over. "Please—no, not you too—"

But the woman's eyes were glassy. She had taken the blast full-force. Her last act… had been to shield Nephis.

Footsteps.

Nephis's head whipped around. Shadows moved through the smoke—three masked figures, blades gleaming in the firelight.

Her body moved before her mind caught up.

She ran.

She ran like her life depended on it.

Because it did.

The firelight danced across bloodstained marble.

Nephis was cornered.

Three masked assassins crept forward like predators, each step silent, measured. Her back pressed against the cold stone, too weak to fight, too shaken to think. Her breath came in shuddering gasps.

"Don't hurt her," one murmured.

"Just bind her. We need her breathing."

Nephis gritted her teeth—she would not go quietly. Her fingers inched toward a shard of broken glass. She would cut them if she had to.

But then—

The ceiling exploded.

A whiplash of silver light tore through the air like a whip from heaven itself. Strings—hundreds of them—threaded through the falling debris, weaving a luminous net that shimmered in midair.

A moment later, the net tightened.

The three masked attackers were sliced apart, their bodies crumbling mid-motion before they even realized they'd been caught.

And from the hole in the ceiling, she descended.

——

Olivia POV

Olivia.

Her cloak billowed like liquid shadow, threaded with glowing lines of silver. Her eyes, normally calm as a moonlit lake, now burned with a cold, righteous fury.

She landed without a sound—except for the groan of the house, which trembled at her presence.

Her hand shot forward—strings like silken spears lanced through the room, striking down every hidden assassin lurking in the corners. They died without a scream, only the whisper of wire and wind.

More came rushing in, alerted by the chaos.

It didn't matter.

She didn't hesitate.

She didn't question.

She didn't care who they were.

Because tonight—ally or not—anyone who raised a hand against Nephis was already dead.

"Olivia…?" Nephis whispered, barely believing it.

Strings wrapped around her waist with gentle care, pulling her up into Olivia's arms like she weighed nothing at all. A mother's embrace—fierce, protective, and unwavering.

"I've got you, little dove," Olivia whispered against her hair, her voice suddenly softer amidst the carnage. "You're safe now."

Nephis clung to her, trembling.

But Olivia was already moving.

Another wave of enemies emerged from the opposite hallway—former allies, corrupted by greed or fear. Olivia's head tilted slightly.

"Traitors…"

Her whisper was full of venom.

And then she moved.

The strings lashed outward like a storm of judgment, slicing steel, shattering walls, and dismembering the betrayers with surgical grace. Her transcendent battle art made her untouchable. The way her form flickered—stretching like shadow, gliding like smoke—she no longer moved like a human.

She was a ghost in a ballroom of corpses.

And she danced for vengeance.

When it was over—when no more footsteps came, and silence reigned—the entire estate's defenders lay broken.

Olivia stood among the wreckage, her cloak fluttering in the embers.

Nephis, still wrapped in strings, was pressed tightly against her side, pale and wide-eyed.

"Why?" the girl whispered.

Olivia didn't answer at first. Then—

"Because your father asked me to."

She closed her eyes briefly, something raw flickering beneath her composure. "And because no child should wake up to betrayal."

She looked down at Nephis and touched her cheek, gently brushing soot from her skin.

"You're not alone, Nephis. Not anymore."

———

Smoke curled into the starless night as Olivia stepped out of the ruined estate, Nephis cradled tightly in her arms.

She barely had time to breathe.

Ten figures stood across the snowy courtyard—shadows cloaked in silence. Each of them radiated power. Enough to shake cities. Enough to turn a battlefield.

Ascended. All of them.

Olivia stopped mid-step.

She didn't need to count. She knew the kind of trap this was. They were waiting.

And at the center of them, leaning against a broken pillar, was a boy no longer a boy.

Frank.

Tall, composed, clad in a sleek red coat over blood-colored armor that pulsed faintly beneath. A strange glow shimmered beneath his chest, forming into the mark of a crimson heart, beating like it was alive.

The mark of Asterion's divine lineage—the long-lost Heart God.

He grinned.

"Well, well… look who crawled out of the shadows." His eyes flicked toward Nephis, almost tenderly. "Going somewhere, princess?"

Nephis tensed in Olivia's arms.

Frank's smile widened. "I'd step back if I were you, Shadow Matron. You're far from your den. And this time, you won't slither away."

Olivia said nothing. Her eyes didn't blink. Her strings shimmered, invisible but poised, curled around her wrists like vipers.

Frank continued, casual, cruel:

"Oh? Don't recognize me? I'm the little rat your son dueled. Six years ago. What a fight." His fingers tapped the hilt of his blade. "You know… I still remember his eyes. All that fire."

Then his smile twisted.

"But even fire dies."

He took a step forward, and the others behind him fanned out.

"I should thank you, really. If not for your son humiliating me, I wouldn't have gone looking. Wouldn't have dug into bloodlines. Wouldn't have found my true inheritance."

He tapped his glowing heart.

"This? This is divine. Asterion gifted it to me himself. I'm more than Ascended now."

He looked at Nephis.

"And I've come to take you, Princess. Your father is dead."

Nephis froze.

Frank tilted his head mockingly. "What, no tears? No gasps? Come now. I'd expected more. You didn't hear? Anvil. Ki Song. Asterion. They struck together. Flawless. Efficient. A new world's already begun."

He smiled as Nephis's mouth trembled.

"Poor girl. The Immortal Flame is ash now. You… are the last ember. And I've come to snuff it out."

The ground trembled beneath his boots as divine pressure radiated outwards.

"Enough," Olivia said at last.

Her voice was cold as mountain frost.

Frank blinked. "…Hm?"

Olivia stepped forward, gently setting Nephis down. "You speak too much."

"I'm giving her closure," he said smoothly.

"No," Olivia said, eyes burning like night stars, "you're giving me a target."

Strings exploded from her body.

Dozens. Hundreds. Gleaming silver threads stretched through the air, catching the moonlight like webbed glass.

"I don't care about your inheritance," Olivia whispered. "I don't care what power you think you've stolen. And I don't care what god you serve."

Her eyes locked on Frank.

"You betrayed your own blood."

She lifted one hand. The strings twitched.

"And for that, you'll pay."

Frank raised his hand—and the ten Ascended around him stepped forward, weapons drawn.

The snow turned to steam under the heat of power.

But Olivia… didn't flinch.

She turned slightly to Nephis. "Stay low. Watch the threads."

Then she moved.

The Spider had no need for a web.

She was the storm.