Shadow Slave : Shadow Clan

The morning sun filtered weakly through the high windows of the mansion, casting long shadows across the black-marble floor. Birds chirped somewhere in the distance, but the silence inside was heavier than stone.

Sunny opened his eyes.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep. The warmth of the bed meant nothing. His body still felt cold—like the night before hadn't truly ended.

For a moment, he hoped it had all been a dream.

The nightmare gate. The screams. Julius's gunfire. The monstrous worm splitting from the earth. His father…

He sat up slowly, swinging his legs off the bed. The motion felt strange—like he was borrowing someone else's limbs. Then he looked at his hand. A thin scar curved across his palm, barely visible now. It had been healed by someone during the night.

His breath caught.

It wasn't a dream.

He dressed in silence. The usual black tunic with its high collar. The soft pants. His boots. Everything as it always was—but it felt different, foreign. Like he was dressing for a funeral he hadn't known he was attending.

He stepped into the hallway.

The mansion was quiet. Too quiet. No chatter from the kitchen. No footsteps from the staff. Just the distant ticking of an old wall clock.

Sunny made his way down the stairs.

Each step echoed like thunder in his ears.

He reached the main living room… and stopped.

There she was.

Olivia.

His mother sat on the couch, back slightly hunched forward, arms limp in her lap. Her cloak had slipped from one shoulder. Her long black hair was disheveled, clinging to her cheeks. She didn't even seem to notice.

Opposite her sat Broken Sword.

His armor was half-peeled, blood dried along the seams, eyes sunken with exhaustion. His expression was unreadable, but his hands were trembling.

They were speaking. Quietly. In tones too low for Sunny to hear.

But none of it mattered.

Sunny's legs moved on their own.

He rushed toward his mother and fell to his knees beside her, wrapping his arms around her waist, burying his face into her lap like he used to.

Olivia flinched—just barely. Then her hands slowly came down, brushing through his hair.

"My sweet boy," she whispered, forcing a thin smile.

But Sunny looked up—and he saw the tears.

They ran down her cheeks, quiet, slow, but endless. And she was shaking.

He blinked. His chest clenched.

"Mother," he said, softly. "Why are you crying?"

She didn't answer.

He waited.

"…Mother?"

Still nothing. Her fingers tightened slightly in his hair.

He turned toward Broken Sword.

"Why is she crying?"

Broken Sword looked up, startled—like he hadn't realized Sunny had even entered the room. His jaw tensed. His eyes flicked toward something… behind Sunny.

A low, cold wind passed through the room. Sunny felt it crawl down his spine.

Slowly, he turned.

And he saw it.

A body. Long. Still. Covered in a white blanket. Resting on the long table near the hearth.

No words were needed.

His breath hitched. He staggered to his feet.

"No…"

His legs carried him forward even as his mind screamed for him to stop.

"Please no—"

He reached the table. His hands trembled as he touched the edge of the sheet. He stared at it for what felt like years.

He knew. Deep down, he already knew.

But knowing wasn't the same as accepting.

He lifted the sheet.

And the world fell away.

His father lay there, pale and still, eyes forever closed, his face peaceful in the most terrible way. The man who had laughed with him days ago. The man who had swung him through the air, who had read him stories of ancient warriors, who had taught him the way of the blade.

Gone.

"Dad…" Sunny whispered. His throat closed. "Dad, wake up."

No response.

Tears welled in his eyes. Hot. Furious. Endless.

"Please. Wake up!"

His voice cracked. He slammed his hands on the table. "You promised! You said we'd spar after the trip! You said…"

He broke.

Sunny fell to his knees beside the table, sobbing uncontrollably, fists clenched against the cold stone floor. His shoulders shook. His cries were raw, unfiltered, primal.

Behind him, Olivia watched her son unravel, and more tears flowed from her tired eyes. She couldn't speak. She had no words left. Only pain.

Only grief.

Broken Sword turned away, unable to bear the sound.

The boy screamed again. A single, broken sound that shattered through the quiet halls.

And then silence.

The kind that only comes when the world stops making sense.

Sunny stayed there, curled beside the body of the man who had once been his world, his protector, his father.

His fists clenched tighter.

He didn't feel like a child anymore.

He felt hollow.

And yet, deep in that silence… something stirred.

The first seeds of a vow.

But that would come later.

For now, there was only mourning.

The door creaked open.

Footsteps echoed softly across the marble—hesitant, uneven. Julius stepped into the room, the flickering hallway lights casting him half in shadow. In his arms, wrapped in a little lavender blanket, was Rain.

She was crying.

Not a fussing cry. Not the kind Sunny had heard before when she was hungry or sleepy.

This was deeper.

Raw. Hurting.

Her tiny sobs echoed across the wide chamber like glass shattering in the silence. Her cheeks were soaked, her eyes wide and puffy, as if she'd been crying for a long, long time.

And then her gaze fell on the table.

On the body beneath the white sheet.

She stopped.

Her eyes locked on the face that had once lifted her high above the clouds. The face that had kissed her forehead every night. Her tiny hands curled into fists.

Then she screamed.

It was a sound no child should ever make. Julius flinched, visibly shaken. Even the Black Ring soldiers outside paused at the doorway, unable to look in.

Sunny turned, still kneeling by the table, his eyes red and hollow.

He saw her. Rain. His little sister. His baby sister.

She was crying for their father. And somehow… she knew.

She always knew.

Even without being told. Even before she could speak in full sentences. Rain had always been more perceptive than a child her age should be.

Sunny stood and ran to her.

He gently took her from Julius's arms and cradled her close to his chest. She clung to his shirt with tiny fingers, sobbing into him.

"Don't cry," Sunny whispered through his own tears, his voice hoarse and breaking. "Please don't cry, Rain…"

But she did.

Because she had seen him. Their father. And she understood.

Olivia rose from the couch with trembling legs. Her eyes were swollen, her lips bloodless. She crossed the room, knelt beside her children, and wrapped both of them in her arms.

She tried to stay strong, her grip firm. Her chin high.

But then Rain let out a trembling sob again.

And the mask cracked.

Tears slid down Olivia's cheeks, and she held her children tighter, burying her face in their hair.

"I'm here," she murmured. "I'm here, my loves…"

Across the room, Broken Sword sat beside the table. He hadn't moved since Abel's final breath. His shoulders sagged, his blade laid across his lap like a weight he could no longer carry. The steel of his armor still hummed faintly, but the man inside was silent.

Sunny looked up at him.

His voice was small. But it carried across the room.

"…How did this happen?"

Broken Sword didn't answer at first.

Then, slowly, his gaze lifted to meet Sunny's. The eyes of a veteran—of a man who had seen too much death—met the tear-filled eyes of a child who had just lost his entire world.

"I'll tell you," Broken Sword said at last, his voice low and ragged. "You deserve to know."

He stood, walking over, and knelt beside Sunny.

"Your father… Abel… he was an Ascended. Not quite Transcendent like your mother or me. But don't let that fool you. He was stronger than most of us in ways that mattered."

Sunny clutched Rain tighter, nodding slowly, listening through his tears.

Broken Sword continued.

"His Aspect was called Ghost Blade. It didn't just cut flesh—it bypassed armor, bypassed body… and struck directly at the soul."

Sunny's breath caught. "He could kill monsters that fast?"

"Yes," Broken Sword said bitterly. "But there was a cost."

He looked down at his hand. His fingers trembled.

"Your father had a Flaw. Every time he used Ghost Blade… every time he cut into someone's soul… it cost him his own life. Years. At first just one. Then two. Then four. Then eight. Each strike doubled the cost."

Sunny's heart twisted.

"He… he knew?"

"He always knew," Olivia whispered. "He told me long ago. But he promised he would never use it unless he had no other choice."

Sunny looked back at Broken Sword. "So why didn't you stop him?! You were right there! Why didn't you help him?!"

The words hit like knives.

Broken Sword flinched, his jaw tightening. For a long moment, he didn't speak.

Then, his voice returned—quiet, cracked.

"I wanted to."

He looked away, shame in every line of his weathered face.

"But I couldn't. The creature—the Fallen Titan—was evolving. Right before our eyes. It was becoming something worse. A Corrupted Titan. If that had happened… it would have destroyed everything. Your mother couldn't fight. I was nearly drained. And no one else was strong enough."

His voice trembled.

"Your father didn't hesitate. He looked at that monster… and he ran into death itself. Not for glory. Not for fame. But to make sure you lived. That Rain lived. That Nephis lived. That Olivia lived."

Sunny looked down at Rain, who had cried herself into hiccups in his arms. He brushed her hair gently, his fingers trembling.

"He didn't even say goodbye," Sunny whispered.

"He did," Olivia said softly, wrapping her arms around them both. "He said it through every strike he made. Every second he bought for us. That was his goodbye."

Broken Sword added, his voice deep with sorrow, "He was a warrior, Sunny. But more than that… he was a father. And a father's strength doesn't come from his sword. It comes from his love."

There was silence again. Not the silence of emptiness, but of shared grief. Of understanding something far too big for words.

And then Olivia leaned down, pressing her lips to Sunny's head, then to Rain's.

"I'll protect you now," she whispered. "For him."

Sunny said nothing.

He just nodded… and held his sister closer.

But deep inside him… something shifted.

Not vengeance.

Not anger.

But purpose.

The kind born not of rage—but of love, and loss.

Later That Night

The mansion was still.

The storm had passed, but the silence it left behind was heavier than thunder.

Somewhere in the heart of the Shadow Clan estate, behind thick obsidian walls and blackout-draped windows, Sunny sat on the edge of a velvet-cushioned couch in his room, his head bowed slightly, arms wrapped protectively around Rain.

The fire in the hearth had died down to embers, casting a dim, flickering glow that danced across the stone floor.

Rain lay curled in his arms, a tiny warmth nestled against his chest. She had finally cried herself to sleep. Her little breaths were soft now, slow and steady… but occasionally hitched with the leftover tremors of heartbreak.

Sunny gently rocked her, careful not to wake her, his hand cradling the back of her head. He stared into the dying flames, eyes dull and rimmed red. His face was dry now, but it had taken hours.

He didn't know what he felt anymore.

Grief had settled deep in his chest like lead.

But there was also confusion. Guilt. Anger that had nowhere to go.

And above all, a hollow ache where his father used to be.

The door creaked softly.

Nephis stepped in.

She didn't say a word, just slowly made her way across the room and sat beside him, her black hair still damp from the evening mist outside. Her eyes were swollen from crying, her voice quiet.

"…I couldn't sleep."

Sunny didn't look at her at first. Just nodded.

"I didn't think I could either," he whispered.

They sat in silence for a long while, the only sound Rain's soft breathing and the gentle creak of the firewood shifting.

Nephis glanced down at the baby girl in Sunny's arms, her pale lashes fluttering with every breath.

"She knew," Nephis whispered.

Sunny nodded slowly. "Yeah. She did. The moment she saw him."

"She's just a baby…"

"She's Rain."

That one word—spoken like truth—carried more weight than any sentence could.

Nephis leaned closer. "She's lucky. She has you."

Sunny finally looked up at her.

"You think I'm strong enough for that?"

Nephis didn't answer right away. Her eyes, silvery and calm despite everything, watched him.

"You're holding her. That's more than most people would know how to do after today."

He blinked at that. Then gave a faint, hollow laugh.

"I just… I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. He was there. Then… he wasn't."

Nephis nodded. "I know."

"I didn't even say goodbye properly. I thought we had more time. I always thought…" Sunny's voice cracked. "He was my dad, Neph. I thought that meant he'd always be there."

Her hand found his on the armrest, fingers gently curling over his.

"He was there," she said softly. "Every time he trained with you. Every time he came home late but still kissed Rain goodnight. Every time he stood beside your mother and held this whole city together without anyone knowing."

She squeezed his hand.

"He was always there."

Sunny looked down, fighting to breathe through the tightness in his chest. Rain stirred in his arms, tiny fingers clenching his shirt again. He held her closer, pressing his cheek to the crown of her head.

"I keep wondering if he was afraid," he whispered.

Nephis looked at the fire. "Maybe. Maybe not. But I think… he was more afraid for you. For all of us. That's why he did what he did."

Silence again.

Then she said something so soft he almost didn't hear it.

"…I wish my mother had someone like him."

Sunny turned to her, surprised.

Nephis didn't cry anymore—not like most people did. Her grief was a quiet, deep-cutting thing. It didn't pour—it bled.

Sunny gently shifted, making room, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.

Rain stayed asleep between them.

A broken family, but together.

Just barely holding on.

"I don't want to forget his voice," Sunny whispered suddenly. "Or how his hands felt when he ruffled my hair. Or how he laughed when Rain sneezed."

"You won't," Nephis whispered.

"You don't know that."

"I do." She closed her eyes. "Because I'll remember him too. Every time you talk about him. Every time you protect Rain the way he protected you. He's still here, Sunny. Not in a ghost blade. Not in a flaw or a spell. Just… here."

She touched her hand to his heart.

"Where it matters."

And for the first time since the night began, Sunny closed his eyes, and leaned against her.

He didn't feel better.

But he didn't feel alone.

And in a world so full of loss…

That was enough.

The sky was gray.

Not the soft gray of overcast days, but the hollow, aching hue that hangs above a city in mourning.

At the heart of the Shadow Clan's ancestral grounds—within the stone ring of the Vale of Silence—the funeral pyre had long since turned to ash.

Nothing remained of Abel's body now, only soot, scorched wood, and the lingering heat of a man who had burned brighter than most.

Rows of Shadow Clan warriors stood in silent reverence, each cloaked in black, heads bowed. A few of the Immortal Flame Clan had come, as had members of the city's core factions—those who had known Abel not just as a warrior, but as a man.

The flames had consumed everything but memory.

Rain, too young to understand, clung to Olivia's shoulder. Her little face buried in her mother's neck, eyes glazed but silent now—empty from so much crying.

Broken Sword stood tall near the front, his armor gleaming dully, like a blade left in the rain. His expression was carved from stone, but his eyes were oceans.

Nephis was silent.

Dressed in pure white, she stood beside Sunny.

And Sunny…

Sunny stood closest to the pyre's remains. His hands were clenched at his sides, nails digging crescents into his palms. His shadow pooled beneath him, dark and wide. His black cloak fluttered slightly in the windless air, his eyes red and rimmed with dark circles.

He had not cried since last night.

He hadn't needed to.

The grief sat too deep now. It had rooted into him like a second heart.

After the rites, one by one, those who loved Abel stepped forward to speak.

⸻

Broken Sword stepped forward first.

His voice was low, steady—too steady, like a sword held too tight.

"He was my brother-in-arms.

The man who walked beside me through death and fire more times than I can count.

And even then, I never saw him hesitate—not once—not when it came to his family.

Not when it came to protecting those he loved."

He paused, jaw clenching.

"He taught me how to be a father. And in the end… he reminded me what it meant to be human."

His voice broke. Just once.

"Rest well, old friend. We'll carry your burden now."

He stepped back, his shoulders impossibly heavy.

⸻

Olivia was next.

And when she approached the ashes of the man she had loved, the woman who had never bowed to death itself… crumbled.

"I hated you for leaving me," she whispered, tears spilling freely.

"But I love you more for why you did."

Her voice wavered, trembling.

"You said once, when Sunny was born, that you would give your life for his future.

And you did. You kept your promise.

Even if it broke me.

You were never just the Shadow's blade… you were its heart.

And I will keep it beating. For you. For our son. For Rain."

She kissed her hand and pressed it to the cold stone.

And then she turned away, shoulders shaking silently.

⸻

Nephis walked next.

For a long time, she stood there without speaking.

Then quietly, she said:

"I didn't know how to speak at funerals.

I've been to too many. Lost too much.

But Abel… you made me feel safe."

Her lips trembled.

"Even when I was just a girl hiding behind Sunny.

You smiled like I was part of your home.

I won't forget that.

I won't forget you."

She returned to Sunny's side.

Then it was his turn.

⸻

Sunny stepped forward.

The whole courtyard seemed to still. Even the air dared not stir.

He stood in front of the ashes, and for a moment, said nothing.

The silence dragged.

Until finally—

"I used to think my father was… indestructible," he said.

"He never talked much. Not about what hurt.

But he was always there."

He looked up, his eyes gleaming.

"He trained me like I was glass, but he looked at me like I was fire.

Like I could become something.

Like I was meant to protect what he could not."

His voice cracked then, and the boy inside the warrior rose.

"I didn't get to say goodbye.

I didn't get to hug him one last time or hear him call me his little Shadow.

I didn't get to tell him… I loved him too."

He took a breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was steel.

"But I will say this—"

"I will protect what he died for."

His shadow flickered behind him.

It wasn't just a boy who stood there now.

It was a son who had lost everything.

And found purpose in the wreckage.

⸻

Later that night, as the wind swept the ashes into the cold sky, and the last mourners left the courtyard behind—

Sunny stayed.

Alone.

He knelt beside the grave, Rain asleep in his arms once more.

And with eyes half-closed, he whispered into the dark:

"I will protect my sister. My mother. And Nephis."

"I swear—"

"I will never let this happen again."

"No one I love will fall while I still breathe."

"I'll become strong enough to make you proud, Dad.

I'll become strong enough… to never say goodbye again."

And above him, the ashes of a hero drifted like stars.

END OF VOLUME 1 PART 1 : The Quiet Vow