[I should remind you that the simulated personas will not recognize that you are not who you should be. Unfortunately, that only applies to your bodily appearance. We wanted to accurately simulate their personalities and intellect, so if you make anything obvious, then they will notice.]
***
The first thing Sunny noticed was the world quaking around him.
He couldn't see anything, and he suddenly felt amazingly irritated and groggy. There was loud banging echoing all around him, coming from a source he couldn't quite acknowledge.
'W-What...?!'
"...ke up!"
His thoughts moved slowly, at a pace that was even slower than mundane. Sunny felt disoriented from the shocking changes in his situation. Even so, his mind quickly rushed to trying to decipher all that was happening around him. At the same time, his eyes opened...
'That noise... am I under attack? Knowing my luck, that's definitely possible.'
Moreover, someone seemed to be telling him to wake up. Perhaps he was in an army — no, that wouldn't make sense. A dancer — that was the role he had chosen — shouldn't be in such a position. He should be out there shaking ass for scraps, not waiting to get his ass beat by enemy soldiers!
...Actually, neither outcome sounded right.
Perhaps there was a veiled connection between it all that made it make sense?
"...eeloader!"
Sunny grunted into a soft, plushy object. A pillow, he presumed. An assumption that was proven true when his eyes finally took it in.
Who did these mongrels think they were? Didn't they know who he was? Why, he was—
"I swear to 'His' Mercy, I will break down this door and bludgeon you with it myself, you useless waste of my womb!"
An angry, feminine voice shot through the air.
Sunny flinched as he pulled himself completely out of unconsciousness. His head shook in every direction as he got himself accustomed to his surroundings.
He was in an unimpressive room by more luxurious standards. It was small, the floors and walls carved from what seemed to be marble. It was furnished with a haphazardly put together wooden cupboard, an open-air window that revealed the skies outside, and the surprisingly comfortable bed Sunny found himself in.
He also noticed that he was having a breathing problem. And that he smelled... strange. Oh well.
More importantly, he was pissed.
With a hateful growl, he rolled out of the bed with some regret, the faint, floral scent of some deathly flowers making their way into his blocked nostrils. He stomped over to the wooden door, unlocking it with a sneer on his face as he flung it open, the air hitting his body in such a way that it felt as if he was naked.
Sunny had a full barrel's worth of things to say to the deplorable creature who thought it fitting to rouse him from his slumber. Even if the sky was falling and hell managed to find its way into this realm, he'd rather sleep it off than be bothered.
Of course, said logic only made sense to him because he was asleep only a few seconds ago. In a state of complete wakefulness, devoid of irritation and annoyance, he would certainly not agree with himself.
Sunny was not completely awake, unfortunately. So, his wrath was yet to completely simmer down.
Sunny opened his mouth, ready to verbally strike down whomever dared to disturb his slumber—
Just to halt in his tracks. A cold feeling, colder than even ice, washed over him as he took in the figure standing before him.
It was a young woman... no, a woman who only seemed to be young, her figure slender and her sneering face exquisitely beautiful. Her pale skin was carved from flawless porcelain, long raven hair braided into a bun. Her eyes were of a deep onyx, hardly a shade lighter than Sunny's own. The lissome beauty was dressed a flowing silk tunic that left her delicate neck and shoulders exposed.
A black, serpentine tattoo was inked into her arms and neck, something that was both deeply familiar... and different. Its scales were so intricately tattooed that the scales seemed to almost move... but of course, they did not. For it was not a Soul Serpent that marked the woman's beautiful skin, but the representation of one.
A collar and its matching shackles.
A Temple Slave.
Sunny...
Sunny was shook to the core.
It wasn't the realization of where he was. It wasn't the serpentine tattoo inked into the woman's skin. No, it was something far more uncanny, a truth that was far too unnerving.
It was the woman's face. It was too personal. Too familiar.
The woman... her Soul Core was Awakened. She was no young lady, and although she was certainly not some ancient elder, the signs of aging that should have been apparent were not.
She was an Ascended, so... Sunny tried to imagine the woman not Ascended, but Awakened. The ravishing perfection of her visage was slightly less perfect, but was completely lacking of imperfection. Then, he tried to envision what she would look like if she had been a normal, weak, mundane little human.
Sunny inhaled deeply, the smell of flowers and whatever odor was currently being sucked through his nostrils reminding him that this was not his past.
She...
She looked like his mother.
When Sunny appeared through the door, the lookalike gave him a once over, nose crinkling in disgust. In particular, her eyes darkened as she took in his face.
"Chernobog, you lecherous ingrate!"
...Sunny was quickly knocked out of his sorrowful nostalgia.
That was... a very particular choice of words.
He believed that he made a sound of confusion, but quickly realized that it was muffled. That was when he noticed the feeling of soft fabric over his numb face, particularly his mouth, nose, jaw, and the sides of his head. His eyes were clearly free, considering that he could see normally.
What was he wearing?
Sunny had his shadows look at him, using their eyes as a mirror.
His eyes widened in horror.
There he was, completely naked. A sight that would surely ruin his social standing with a method so clean that his reputation could go into the negatives in an instant.
But... that wasn't the worst part.
It was the fact that he had a pair of undergarments over his head.
Not just any pair, no, not at all.
But that of a woman's...
As the Temple Slave before him pinched her nose at whatever strange aromas were exuding from his room, she let out a deathly chuckle.
"Cherny, Cherny... I will give you sixty heartbeats both dress yourself and to return... that... to whichever poor girl you decided to bother this time. Then, you will grovel on your knees, and plead to not be exiled. Then, if I find myself in a better mood, you might be allowed to freeload just a little longer, and you will understand that is only because the Hollow Maiden will be arriving soon, and I do not want to cause a ruckus for the temple. Am I clear?"
Sunny came to three startling, instinctive realizations.
The first... was the identity of the woman.
She was his mother.
Not Sunny's, of course. Rather, she was the mother of Chernobog. Cherny?
That led him to the second realization. It was like a spark of inspiration, one so sudden that Sunny could not tell whence it came. It was as if something deep inside of him stirred awake at the call of that name, before falling back into a deep, endless slumber.
He was the original Temple Slave.
The [Child of Shadows] he had inhabited in his First Nightmare.
The thought was astonishing... yet, paradoxical.
The original Temple Slave couldn't have possibly survived that mountain. Sunny doubted he survived the Mountain King's arrival, much less managed to prevail against the betrayals of Auro, Shifty, and Scholar.
That was assuming either of the three managed to survive without Sunny's plan.
The timeline of events only grew worse.
At the time of the slave caravan's Destruction, the Temple Slave must have been about the same age as Sunny had been at the time. At thirteen, Sunny had been skinny and weak, looking far younger than he actually was. The same could be said for the Temple Slave, who was definitely not well-fed by the slave traders.
This temple should have been destroyed by the followers of War God before then...
The room he was in, Sunny reluctantly understood... reeked of sex.
He had to assume that the Temple Slave — Chernobog — was sexually active?
But, based on his mother's scorn, such a thing was frowned upon in the temple? It was a holy place, after all, devoted to the worship of Shadow God.
Sunny was forced to guess that Chernobog was of a more acceptable age for such acts, considering that his mother threatened to kick him out. Then again, perhaps she would have done so even if the Temple Slave was far younger?
But if the Temple Slave really was older than he was in the First Nightmare, shouldn't that be paradoxical? This temple was destroyed, and the odds of the slave surviving past that point were unlikely. And yet, the evidence before him told Sunny otherwise.
Was the Simulated Universe just innacurate? What were the odds of being put into the Temple Slave's position, anywa—
...Actually, [Fated] was probably to blame for that.
Sunny found himself with more questions than answers. He sighed.
...The act didn't draw a particularly positive reaction from Chernobog's mother, unfortunately.
Because, a moment later, she slapped his face.
Sunny felt bad for her hand.
That was his third realization.