Chapter 28: Saint-I
I leaned against the cold, rough stone of the outer wall, the wind tugging at my clothes. The
usual chaos of the Outskirts was a distant murmur below. In my hands, several sheets of
coarse, homemade paper rustled softly. My focus was there, eyes narrowed on the tip of the
feather quill in my hand.
It was a strange thing, this quill. It had no inkpot, and its tip was clean. Yet, as I moved it
across the page, dark, crisp words appeared. A green gemstone, no larger than my fingertip,
was set into the feather's shaft, pulsing with a faint, internal light. The words it wrote weren't
in English, but in a script from my Earth which seemed to have died out by now./ Well, it was
dying back then anyways, so I would be survived if it was still around today.
I was making a list. It was a catalogue of names, locations, and objects, a private map of my
ambitions here. Two entries at the top had clean lines struck through them—Moonlight and
Starlight. Two more, further down, were marked with a careful star: Midnight and Blood
Weave. And one, a single name at the very bottom of the page, was now circled with a slow,
deliberate stroke: Saint.
I was so absorbed in staring at that circled name, contemplating the path to acquiring
everything like a scavengers hunt, that I almost didn't notice his approach.
"You look like a general plotting a campaign," Sasrir's voice murmured, low enough that the
wind almost stole it. He didn't look at the paper, his gaze instead scanning the horizon, ever
the watchful shadow.
I didn't jump. I was too used to his sudden arrivals by now. "Something like that," I replied,
my voice quiet. I didn't try to hide the list from him. He was the only other piece on the board
who knew it existed.
He finally glanced down, his shadowed eyes flicking over the script. "You're actually using
that? I thought you hated learning it in school?"
"I did. But it's even deader here than in our homeland, and I don't know any other language.
Unless you want me to leave it lying around in plain English."
"You could just burn it when you're done looking at it."
"And have to redo it every time I want to add something? No thanks, too much effort.
Besides, consider it a sort of memento from Earth."
Fine. But why are you using the Quill of Alzuhod to do it?"
I looked down at the quill in my hands, the green gem shimmering brightly. "Well, I figured it
was only fitting. Besides, ever since I reshaped the Visionary Uniqueness I haven't actually
taken it out of my Soul Sea. I might as well use it for something, or else what would be the
point?""How very philosophical of you."
"Yeah yeah, enough of the ribbing. So, where do we go from here?"
Getting serious, Sasrir unveiled a map from within his cloak and showed it to me. "We go
north for about ten minutes, then northeast for fifteen. I've heard people say there are stone
monsters in the area, and it's still within a certain range of the Cathedral."
"So within Sunny's hunting range" I added. "Alright then, let's set off. I just hope we're
actually lucky enough to get the Echo. Imagine after all this planning, the Spell just decides
to fuck with us?"
"If you're that worried, write a prophecy with that Quill of yours. What's in the rest of those
pages anyways?"
I flicked them over with a grin, showing Sasrir the words "fuck, marry, kill" written on top
followed by a long list of names. Sasrir read through them quickly before fixing me a blank
stare.
"Rain, Tyris, Jet...even Song? Seriously?"
I was quick to defend myself. "I'd wait until Rain's an adult of course, what do you take me
for?"
Sasrir rolled his eyes. "Right, so you're just a necrophile, not a paedophile. Much better."
"What?"
"Jet and Song are corpses, remember? The Queen of Worms got one of Anvil's swords
through her heart and Jet is literally a zombie...or would a vampire be more fitting actually?
Anyways, just don't."
"Damn" I scrunched the paper in my hand in frustration, before carefully smoothing it out
again. Getting good paper on the Forgotten Shore was a pain in the ass, as the Artisans don't
really prioritise making it. I didn't want to waste any.
The northern road was a graveyard of rust and shattered concrete, just as we'd planned. The
first few monsters we encountered were little more than target practice. A scuttling thing with
too many legs, a floating orb of acidic gas—they never stood a chance. Or rather, Sasrir never
gave them a chance.
I didn't even have to lift a finger. He'd simply gesture, and the shadows at the creatures' feet
would twist and coil, solidifying into inky black hands that wrapped around throats or
crushed carapaces. There was no sound, no struggle. One moment they were there, the next
they were just… gone, leaving behind only a faintly glowing Soul Shard. I collected them,
the warmth of the shards a familiar sensation in my palm. It was efficient, almost boring.
We reached the next intersection, a wider plaza where several broken streets converged. And
that's where our easy stroll ended. The crossroads was occupied. It looked like a large, grey-
furred monkey at first glance, but its movements were all wrong, jerky and uncoordinated. Asit turned, I saw why. Its back was a seething mass of pale, worm-like parasites, their bodies
buried deep in its flesh, their heads writhing in the open air.
An Awakened Devil. I felt a familiar thrill, the arrogance of foreknowledge. A mere
Awakened Devil, I had killed two Fallen Tyrants-this was nothing to me. "I've got this," I
said, my tone a bit too confident. I summoned the Unshadowed Crucifix, its holy light flaring
to life.
I lunged, aiming to purify the wretched thing. But the monkey-devil moved with a sudden,
shocking speed, dodging the Crucifix's glow. The worms on its back didn't just writhe; one of
them detached, shooting through the air like a pale, fleshy arrow. I barely twisted aside, the
worm slamming into the wall behind me with a wet thud where my head had just been.
My arrogance evaporated, replaced by a cold jolt of fear. Sasrir was already moving, shadows
lashing out to bind the creature's limbs. But the worms were a separate entity, lashing out
independently, forcing him to divide his attention. This wasn't a target practice dummy. This
was a fight.
"Team up!" I barked, the command sharp, all pretence of easy superiority gone. I stopped
trying for a grand, purifying blow and focused on distraction, using the Crucifix's light to
herd the creature, to blind the writhing parasites. They sizzled and shrieked, writhing on the
ground as they cooked. Sasrir, freed from defending against the projectile worms, intensified
his assault. The main shadow-tendrils tightened, and a dozen smaller, sharper ones formed,
stabbing into the monster's body like needles.
It was over in seconds after that. The creature collapsed, the light in its eyes dying, the
parasites on its back going still. I stood there, panting, a thin, stinging scratch on my cheek
from a near-miss. It was nothing, a tiny injury. But it was a warning.
We absorbed the larger, brighter Soul Shard it left behind. The power was a welcome surge,
but it couldn't wash away the cold lesson. Just because I knew the future didn't mean I could
control the present. Just because I held a transcendent Memory didn't make me invincible.
This place, the Forgotten Shore, was filled with things that could kill me before I even
realized I was dead.
I could feel Sasrir's eyes on me, a silent, judging pressure. He didn't say a word, just kept
glancing over as we walked. After the third time, I couldn't take it anymore.
"Alright, alright," I huffed, my cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and residual
adrenaline. "I got cocky. It was a stupid mistake. I let the foreknowledge go to my head." I
kicked a loose piece of rubble, watching it skitter across the broken pavement. "It won't
happen again."
He gave a single, slow nod, the shadow over his face seeming to lighten just a fraction. It was
the closest I'd get to an "I told you so." Satisfied, he pointed with a gloved hand down a
narrower, less-damaged path. "This way."
We took the new route, moving with a renewed, sharper caution. The easy confidence from
the start of our trip was gone, replaced by the grim focus the Dark City demanded. Forseveral minutes, we travelled unobstructed, the only sound the scuff of our boots and the
distant, echoing wail of some unseen creature.
Then, we arrived at the edge of an open square. It was vast, bordered by the skeletal remains
of towering buildings. Sasrir's arm shot out, stopping me in my tracks. His whole body went
still, the way a predator does when it senses something unseen.
"Wait," he murmured, his voice barely a breath.
I froze instantly, my hand tightening around the Crucifix. "What is it?" I whispered, my eyes
straining to pick out a threat in the expansive, empty plaza. I couldn't see anything. But I'd
learned my lesson. If Sasrir said wait, you waited. "Is this where the Stone Saints are?"
"More or less...but I have a bad feeling. I think it's my Listener powers acting up again, give
me a second to tune it."
He then closed his eyes, becoming as much a statue as the thing we were here to hunt. I said
nothing, letting him work his magic. The abilities of a Listener were truly bizarre, and Sasrir
had struggled to convey the feeling to me. According to him, it was like listening to music
while passed out on a psychedelic trip-whatever the hell that means.
After around a minute, Sasrir moved again. "Alright, they're here. One block down, currently
just having finished fighting something else: I heard their death gasps. There's just one
problem."
"What?"
"Saint wasn't alone in the original work, remember? There were six of her guarding this
place."
"Oh, shit" I cursed, the memory finally making itself apparent in my mind. Six Stone Saints?
That posed a bigger threat than the Bone Tyrant, a bigger threat then the Spire Messenger,
bigger than the Steel Golem. They were Awakened, but could contend with Fallen and were
far more intelligent than their Class would indicate. Could we beat them? Not a chance in
hell.
My Unshadowed Crucifix wouldn't be useful unless I use it's Sequence 4 heat to melt them.
Sasrir's degeneration and coldness would be pretty ineffective against them, if at all. I could
try and use Notary and Bard to boost his power as much as possible, and then have him
smash them with a shadow hammer, but it would be pretty rough even then.
"Well, what do you want to do?" Sasrir looked at me, willing to follow my lead wherever.
"Do we try it anyway, or leave and come back when we've recruited Effie or Gemma?"
I licked my lips and didn't answer straight away, pondering as I looked up at the grey sky.
"Hmm, I think I have an idea."Chapter 29: Saint-II
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
I crouched low on the rooftop, the rough stone digging into my knees. Below, the six Stone
Saints had moved back into the center of the square. One of them was still covered in
partially dried, dark blood, a stark reminder of whatever they'd just butchered. The fact that
the other five were mostly clean was a terrifying portrayal of their prowess. They hadn't even
broken a sweat.
They looked just like the novel described. They were humanoid statues carved from dark
grey stone, shaped like ancient knights. Four of them had a male build, broad and powerful,
while two were more slender and female in form. They stood in a relaxed formation, five of
them just staring off into space, completely still. The sixth, the one covered in blood, was
standing off to the side, meticulously inspecting the edge of his stone sword.
My heart was thumping a steady, nervous rhythm against my ribs. This was insane. Sasrir had
already gone on ahead, his form dissolving into a patch of living shadow that slid silently
down the side of the building. His job was to find some particularly nasty monsters and lure
them back here. The plan was simple, the same one that had worked in the story.
We'd let a third party do the heavy lifting. We'd let the monsters and the Saints tear each
other apart. Then, when the fight was over, we'd swoop in and finish off the survivors. It was
a classic ambush predator move. If one wave of monsters wasn't enough to soften them up,
we'd just send in another. And if that didn't work, we'd try a third.
Staying here all night wasn't a problem for me. I had multiple Soul Cores humming with
power inside me, each one a little battery of essence. I could keep this watch for days if I had
to. Patience was a weapon, and right now, it was our best one. I just had to sit here and wait
for the show to start.
The waiting was the hardest part. The Saints didn't move. They were like part of the scenery,
eternal and unmoving. I found myself holding my breath, half-expecting them to all turn their
heads and look right up at me. But they didn't. They were utterly oblivious to the shadow
slinking through the ruins on their behalf.
I thought about what we were risking. These weren't mindless beasts. The novel said they
were intelligent, capable of strategy. What if they saw through the ruse? What if they didn't
fight the monsters, but just let them pass? Or worse, what if they decided to hunt down the
source of the disturbance? My palms felt a little sweaty. I wiped them on my pants.
Finally, I felt it. A low, rhythmic thumping through the soles of my feet. Something big was
coming. A minute later, I saw them. Two massive, bear-like creatures with metallic hides and
glowing red eyes burst into the far end of the square. They must have been what Sasrir found
first. They looked tough, but I wasn't sure they were tough enough.The Stone Saints reacted instantly. The five who were staring into space snapped to attention,
their stony faces turning in unison toward the new threat. The one cleaning his sword didn't
even look up; he just tightened his grip on the hilt. They didn't charge. They just stood their
ground, a solid wall of living rock, waiting.
The two metallic bears didn't hesitate. They roared, a sound that scraped against the ruins,
and charged. The Saints moved with a speed that was shocking for things made of stone.
They flowed into a defensive formation, two of the male Saints stepping forward to meet the
charge head-on. The sound of impact was like a car crash, stone fist meeting metal hide.
It was brutal and efficient. The bears were strong, but the Saints were unyielding. One bear
managed to rake its claws down a Saint's chest, but it only left shallow gouges in the stone,
causing the ruby dust that served as their lifeblood to leak.. The Saint it attacked didn't flinch.
It just drove its own blade through the bear's metallic skull. The fight was over in less than a
minute. One Saint had a few new scratches, that was it. Two Awakened Beasts down.
I let out a low breath. Okay. One wave down. They were as tough as advertised. We needed
to wear them down.
About ten minutes later, a new sound echoed through the streets. This one was a high-
pitched, chittering screech. A swarm of creatures that looked like giant centipedes with
jagged spikes poured into the square. There were dozens of them. This was more like it. The
Saints formed a tight circle, their stone swords now sweeping in wide, devastating arcs.
This fight was longer and messier. The centipedes were faster and tried to attack from all
sides. I saw one of the female Saints get several of them latched onto her back, their stingers
trying to find a weak point in the stone. She just fell backwards, crushing them beneath her
immense weight. The Saint with the blood-stained sword was a whirlwind of destruction, his
blade cutting two or three of the creatures down with every swing.
When it was over, the square was littered with twitching centipede parts. Two of the Saints
now had deep cracks showing in their stony skin. One had a chip missing from its shoulder.
They were finally taking damage. It was working. We just had to keep the pressure on. I
settled in to wait again, my eyes fixed on the damaged Saints. The plan was crazy, but it was
starting to look like it might actually work.
The Saints weren't stupid though. The injured two were moved back, the remaining four
coming together in a protective formation. They didn't seem to consider that someone was
guiding the other monsters here, maybe thinking they were just attracted by the blood. Or
maybe they didn't think about it at all, only killing whatever cam near. It was a tricky thing on
our part: we needed strong monsters to destroy all but one Saint, but how to achieve that
precise result was troublesome. Perhaps, as I said earlier, it all comes down to luck.
The ground began to tremble, a deep, resonant vibration that was entirely different from the
heavy footfalls of the bears. This wasn't a charge; it was a slow, inevitable approach. I
gripped the edge of the rooftop, my knuckles turning white. What fresh hell had Sasrir
found?Then I saw it, and my breath caught in my throat. It wasn't a swarm. It was a single entity. A
serpent, but one woven from living, translucent crystal. It was colossal, the size of a whale
and twice as long, its body reflecting the dull grey sky in a thousand fractured facets. Despite
its apparent rigidity, it moved with an impossible, fluid grace, gliding over the rubble as if it
were water.
The most horrifying part was that you could see inside it. Trapped within the crystal, like flies
in amber, were the shadowy, contorted forms of its yet-undigested victims. It was bizarre,
beautiful, and utterly terrifying. This was no Awakened beast. The sheer pressure rolling off
it told me everything. This was a Fallen Devil. A whole rank and two Tiers above the Stone
Saints.
The Saints, who had been standing firm against the previous waves, now shifted their
stances. This wasn't the relaxed readiness from before; this was pure, defensive tension. They
knew. The crystal serpent didn't roar or screech. It simply opened its maw, a void of
shimmering darkness within the beautiful crystal, and glided forward.
The lead Saint, one of the males with a cracked chest, met the charge. He braced, his stone
sword held high. The serpent didn't bother to bite. It simply flowed around him. The crystal
body slammed into the Saint with the force of a landslide. There was a sound of grinding
rock, and when the serpent moved past, the Saint was gone, completely absorbed into its
crystalline interior, his form now a new, struggling statue trapped forever. The bloody thing
could liquify itself, and I had no doubt its insides were corrosive.
My blood ran cold. One of them, gone in an instant. This wasn't a fight; it looked like a
harvest. The remaining five Saints didn't break. They scattered, realizing a direct defence was
suicide. They began moving with coordinated, flanking attacks, their stone feet pounding the
ground. The blood-stained Saint lunged from the side, his sword aiming for the serpent's
"neck."
The blade connected with a sound like a thousand bells shattering. A web of fine cracks
spread across the crystal surface, but the sword didn't penetrate. The serpent's body rippled,
and the section where it was struck lashed out like a whip, sending the Saint flying through
the air to crash into a building wall. He slid down, but slowly got back to his feet, his stone
body now covered in a spiderweb of new fractures.
The other Saints pressed the attack, hammering at the creature's sides and tail. Chips of
crystal flew through the air, glittering like deadly rain. It was working, but it was like trying
to demolish a mountain with pickaxes. For every chip they knocked loose, the serpent would
flow over one of them, its immense weight and strange, fluid physics crushing them against
the ground or simply absorbing limbs.
One of the female Saints was too slow. The serpent's tail, moving with that same liquid
speed, wrapped around her legs. We (both the other Saints and myself) watched, helpless, as
she was dragged, struggling, into the main body of the beast. She disappeared into the crystal,
her form joining the gallery of the damned within seconds. Two down.
The fight became a desperate dance of attrition. The Saints were incredibly durable and
strong, but the Fallen Terror was on another level entirely. They couldn't stand against itsdirect force. Their only hope was to dodge its crushing bulk and chip away at it, over and
over, aiming for the existing cracks. The blood-stained Saint was their best warrior,
constantly darting in to strike the damaged section on its neck, widening the fissure with
every blow.
The serpent seemed to recognize him as the primary threat. It focused its efforts on him, its
crystalline head striking at him like a viper. He was impossibly fast for stone, rolling and
weaving, but a glancing blow from its snout sent him tumbling again, shattering one of his
arms at the elbow. He rose, now one-armed, and kept fighting.
It was a brutal, grinding process. Another male Saint was caught by a full-body slam and
shattered into a pile of gravel and dust. A third lost its legs to a sweeping pass of the serpent's
body and could only crawl, useless. Soon, only two Saints remained: the one-armed leader
and one of the initial, undamaged females.
But the monster was showing real damage. The crack on its neck was now a deep crevice,
and a large section of its midsection was hazy with fractures. Its movements were slightly
slower, less fluid. The Saints' sacrifice was not in vain. The Crystal Snake seemed to be
wavering, uncertain whether to flee or stay and fight. The Stone Saints probably weren't very
nutritious anyways, or maybe they actually were-as the creation of Nether, who knows what
value they hold for other "mundane" monsters?
Perhaps seeing the monster wavering, the female Saint created an opening, leaping onto its
back and hammering down with her blade, drawing its attention. Seizing the moment, the
one-armed leader gathered all his remaining strength for a final, desperate leap. He didn't use
his broken sword. He launched himself, a living projectile, directly into the deep fissure on
the serpent's neck. He jammed his own body into the crack, a stone wedge.
The effect was immediate and catastrophic. The serpent thrashed, a silent scream of agony
seeming to vibrate through the air. Its fluid movement seized. The crystal around the lodged
Saint began to spiderweb violently, the cracks racing across its entire body. With a final,
convulsive shudder, the colossal creature froze, its inner light dying. Then, with a sound like
a continent breaking, it shattered.
Shards of crystal exploded outwards, raining down over the entire square like deadly hail.
When the dust and glittering debris settled, the square was a wasteland. Of the six Stone
Saints, only one remained standing—the female who had drawn the final attack. She was
heavily damaged, missing part of her head and leaning heavily to one side. The one-armed
leader was gone, consumed in the final explosion that killed the beast.
The serpent was a field of broken crystal, its victims now freed into nothingness. The silence
that fell was deeper than any before. The plan had worked, the survivors were down to one
crippled Saint and a mountain of glittering, Fallen-class shards. The remaining Saint lay
slumped against a wall, its torn face scattered in ruby dust. I actually felt it was a pity, seeing
such a beautiful thing be so badly scarred. Well, if it became my Echo, those wounds would
recover. Speaking of which, it was time to move, before something even worse than that
Serpent showed up.Just as I was wondering how to get down, I saw a shadow come up over the ledge and
materialise beside me. Sasrir stood up, his shoulder and chest bloodied but covered by a strip
of shadow. "You alright?" I asked in concern, touching his wound gingerly. He didn't flinch,
but removed my hand. "I'm fine, this isn't even from any of those monsters, I got this while
on the way back."
"What did you do to provoke them so badly?"
"The centipedes had a nest I invaded, broke a couple of their eggs. As for the bears, I just
kept stabbing and running. To lure over the snake though, I had to entangle with its' soul. The
pain must have really truck a nerve, because it was the most rabid while chasing me.
Probably collapsed a whole block over to the left."
"Entering the shadow of a Fallen monster is too risky, don't do that again" I scolded him with
a serious frown. "If needed, just look for something slightly easier to lure over."
"Alright, I don't need you of all people telling me to be careful. You try to hide it, but you
can't fool me-you love taking risks and gambling more than anyone I know. If it wasn't for
the fact the Curator gave you Spectator, you definitely would have gotten Marauder or
Monster."
"Hey now, don't go saying I'm a worse gambler than Nephis!" I countered, feigning hurt.
"How many times has she nearly led her Cohort to their deaths?" He gave a slight chuckle in
repones before grabbing my waist and turning back into a shadow, carrying me down the way
I got up. Once we hit the ground, we walked over the the last Stone Saint with a leisurely
gait. Up close, it was even more finely crafted than I thought, and I felt a new level of respect
for the Prince of the Underworld. Seeing us approach, the Saint tried to stand again, but it had
only taken a step before falling back down. While I don't think it could "bleed" to death, in
this state, it would be finished off by the first scavenger that comes across it.
"Consider this a mercy" I said, summoning the Unshadowed Crucifix. Under Sasrir's gaze, I
held it aloft and chanted softly: "God says all fortunes are more effective here! God says all
shadows are strengthened here!" Then I quickly swapped over to the Quill of Alzuhod and
began writing in the air: "Sunny acquired Saint with the halo of the protagonist, while Adam
and Sasrir are both protagonists and therefore have twice the halo. Thus, acquiring Saint is a
very reasonable event!"
After going through my little ritual, of which I was aware probably did nothing but still felt
cool anyways, Sasrir summoned a shadow longsword and raised it above his head.
Strengthened by my Notary powers, the blade seemed to hold an even deeper darkness, and it
cleaved through the Stone Saint's skull with only a small amount of resistance. The monster
stiffened and then stilled completely, one last layer of ruby dust floating down to the ground.
Sasrir hefted the sword out, letting it dissolve into nothing. I licked my lips nervously as I
looked at him, waiting for either confirmation or denial. After about ten seconds, he turned to
me and spoke.
"We got her."Chapter End Notes
Just noticed we past 100K words lol, what a surpriseChapter 30: Growing Shadows
Echo: Stone Saint.
Echo Rank: Awakened.
Echo Class: Monster.
Echo Attributes: [Battle Master], [Stalwart], [Mark of Divinity].
Battle Master Attribute Description: [Born on the battlefield, the Stone Saint is proficient in
all forms of combat.]
Stalwart Attribute Description: [The Stone Saint is highly resistant to all forms of damage, as
well as being fully immune to mind and soul attacks.]
Echo Description: [Deep in the cavernous halls of his dark domain, the last child of the -
unknown- had created them from stone to quell the fire burning in his resentful heart.
However, that fire only grew hotter. Designed to bring peace, they were instead born into an
endless war.]
***********************************
The description for Saint was the exact same as in the novel. proving there was no difference
between this one and the Saint that Sunny had acquired. The fact this one was female as well
was a strange coincidence, but I didn't really care much about it. The only difference between
us and Sunny was...
"There's no Shadow Counter," Sasrir informed me, eyes downcast as he read the Runes. "This
means we can't evolve Saint by consuming other Memories or Echoes like Sunny did.
However, she may still be able to become a Demon by consuming the heart of the Dark
Knight in the Cathedral."
"Damn," I cursed and kicked the ground in annoyance at the revelation, before perking up as
I thought of something. "Maybe you can transform her into a Shadow after becoming a Black
Knight! At Sequence 4, you gain deeper control over shadows and souls, so that might allow
you to evolve her!"
"That's still a long way off," Sasrir dampened my enthusiasm. "If we go by comparative
advancement, I'll be a Transcendant and Saint will just be Ascended. What use will she hold
for us then? It's not like we can hold onto the upgrade materials until she's ready, we don't
have a storage space."
"Alright, alright, I'll figure something out."
I sighed and waved my hand, instead focusing on admiring the Echo standing before me. She
wasn't extravagantly tall, and was even "medium" in height, but she carried herself with anunnatural aura that only a killer could-or something inhuman. And Saint just happened to be
both.
I stood there, staring at the Stone Saint. She was… impressive. Even with the chunks missing
from her shoulder and the crack running down her stony face, there was a noble, powerful
grace to her form. The fight was over, the binding was complete, and she was just… standing
there. Waiting.
"Well," I said, shoving my hands in my pockets and rocking back on my heels. "You, uh…
you certainly know how to make an entrance." She didn't respond, of course. Her blank stone
eyes just stared ahead.
I took a hesitant step closer, circling her slightly. "And, you know. The, uh… the form. It's
very… sculpted. Solid." I reached out a hand, pausing just before I touched her stone-plated
arm. "May I? Just… checking the craftsmanship." I gave her a pat on the bicep. It was cold
and unyielding. "Yep. Very sturdy. Good… good proportions."
From behind me, I heard a long, pained sigh. I glanced back to see Sasrir pinching the bridge
of his nose, his entire posture radiating second-hand embarrassment. "Are you quite
finished?" he asked, his voice flat.
"Just appreciating our new asset," I said defensively, turning back to the Saint. "It's important
to build a good rapport. Right, girl?" I gave her another awkward pat, this time on the
shoulder. "We're gonna be great friends. You smash things, I'll… provide moral support and
witty commentary."
Sasrir just shook his head, the shadows around him seeming to ripple with his disdain. "You
are attempting to flirt with a statue."
"I'm not flirting!" I insisted, my voice cracking a little. "I'm being… appreciative! It's called
being a good superior. You should try it sometime." I looked back at the Saint, feeling a flush
creep up my neck. "Don't listen to him. He's just jealous of your… structural integrity."
I decided to stop while I was behind. "Right. Okay. So. Saint. That's your name. Let's, uh…
let's get you cleaned up." I gestured vaguely toward the path home, and Sasrir dismissed her
back into his Soul Sea. It was going to be a very long, very quiet walk back to the castle. And
I had a feeling Sasrir wouldn't let me hear the end of it.
But what could I say? Saint was the first actual character that I had met from the story.
Gemma didn't count, he barely had five lines in the whole arc, but Saint? She was there
throughout basically the whole book. Her shenanigans as Mongrel, beating up Sunny and
intimidating Morgan were hilarious to read. Anyways, I was smitten, but not in a romantic
way. It was more like...finally meeting an idol, I guess.
I'm not weird.
"Alright," I said, clapping my hands together and trying to sound businesslike. "Let's see
what the cleanup crew can find." With the nearest monsters either wiped out or scared off bythe Fallen Terror's presence, we had the rare luxury of time. We started picking through the
aftermath, a grim but necessary harvest.
We ignored the shattered remains of the Stone Saints for now; their value was already
secured. Instead, we focused on the glittering crystal shards of the Fallen Terror and the
smaller, dimmer soul shards from the metallic bears and centipedes. I pocketed the smaller
ones, feeling their familiar warmth seep into my palm as I absorbed their essence, a trickle of
power refilling my own reserves.
I was kneeling, prying a particularly large crystal shard from the ground, when Sasrir
suddenly went still. He'd been quietly absorbing shards himself, but now he stopped and
looked directly at me. His usual calm demeanor was replaced by a focused intensity.
"I've nearly filled my Core," he stated, his voice low and serious. "These last few should do
it." He held up the final, faintly glowing shards in his hand. "We need to stop. Let's find a
place to hunker down, somewhere defensible."
The meaning of his words hit me a moment later. My eyes widened slightly. "Right. Now?" I
asked, a flutter of nervousness in my stomach. "You're going to… become a Monster."
He gave a single, sharp nod. "The transformation isn't instantaneous, and I'll be vulnerable.
We can't be out in the open when it happens." He looked around the ruined square, at the
countless points of entry. "This is too exposed."
"Okay," I said, my mind already shifting from scavenger to protector. "Okay, we need a
bunker. Something with one way in, one way out." I scanned the perimeter of the square, my
gaze settling on a half-collapsed building on the far side. It looked like an old guard post, its
front wall mostly intact with a single, narrow doorway.
"That one," I pointed. "We can barricade the door from the inside. It's the best we're going to
get."
Without another word, we moved. We gathered our remaining loot quickly, stuffing the
unabsorbed shards into our packs. The short sprint across the square felt longer than the
entire fight, every shadow feeling like a potential threat. We slipped into the dark, cramped
interior of the guard post. True to my guess, it was a single room with no other exits, littered
with dust and rubble.
Together, we shoved a heavy, rusted cabinet in front of the doorway, creating a crude but
effective barricade. It wouldn't stop a determined assault, but it would give us warning. Sasrir
immediately settled into the farthest corner, his back to the wall. He took a deep, steadying
breath and finally absorbed the last few soul shards he held.
A visible tremor ran through him. "It's starting," he said, his voice already sounding strained.
"The process… it's not pleasant. Don't be alarmed."
I drew the Unshadowed Crucifix, its warm, steady glow pushing back the oppressive
darkness of the small room. I positioned myself between him and the barricaded door, myheart thumping a steady, determined rhythm. "I've got the door," I said, my voice firm. "You
just focus on… on whatever you need to focus on. I've got your back."
He didn't answer. A low groan escaped his lips as he curled in on himself, the shadows
around him beginning to churn and writhe as if alive. The air in the room grew cold, and I
tightened my grip on the Crucifix.
The choked grunts from Sasrir's corner quickly escalated into ragged, muffled screams of
pure agony. He was trying to stifle them, but the pain was too much. The shadows in the
room, once still, were now alive. They danced and contorted, twisting in ways that defied
physics, slithering up the walls like black oil.
Directly behind him, cast onto the rough stone by the Crucifix's light, his own shadow began
to warp. It ballooned in size, its edges becoming a seething, unstable mess. The human
silhouette lost all form, shifting and bubbling like a bundle of frenzied worms. It was a
horrifying, abstract depiction of his internal torment.
Then, the shadow sprouted heads. Four of them, erupting from a single, distended neck on
the wall. They were malformed and grotesque, their features indistinct but undeniably
monstrous. I felt a sudden, psychic pressure, a sensation of being watched by a multitude of
hostile, unseen eyes. The gaze felt like it was drilling into my back, cold and alien.
Despite myself, I swallowed deeply, my throat suddenly dry. My knuckles were white where
I clenched the Crucifix. I'd been unconscious for my own Soul Core formation, blissfully
unaware of the process. Seeing this raw, unfiltered display made me dread the day I would
have to advance to Devil. This was a glimpse into a suffering I had narrowly avoided.
The air grew thick with the scent of ozone and something else, something ancient and rotten
—the smell of degeneration. The writhing shadows seemed to suck the warmth and life from
the room, leaving a spiritual chill that seeped into my bones. This was the true face of the
Hanged Man Pathway, a power born from depravity and self-mutilation.
Sasrir's physical form was now obscured by a churning vortex of darkness. I could hear the
wet, tearing sounds of transformation, the crack of bones realigning under duress. The four
shadow-heads on the wall thrashed and snapped soundlessly, a silent chorus to his very vocal
suffering. It was a battle not just of power, but of will, a fight to remain himself as his very
essence was remade into something more removed from human. As Sunny had once said,
Humanity was not meant to possess more than one Soul Core-that was the domain of the
Mystical.
After several more minutes of wet, tearing noises and choked gasps that belonged in a horror
movie, the chaotic energy in the room finally began to recede. The twitching, multi-headed
shadow on the wall collapsed in on itself, the separate forms melting back into a single,
cohesive silhouette. The seething tendrils of darkness withdrew from the corners of the room,
flowing back toward the center like a reverse tide.
They coalesced, clumping together to slowly reform Sasrir's familiar shape. He was kneeling
on the floor, head bowed, his chest heaving as he drew in ragged, deep breaths. His skin,what little was visible at his neck and hands, glistened with a cold sweat and seemed even
paler than before, almost translucent.
He slowly lifted his head, the shadows that perpetually clung to his features seeming darker
and more substantial. He looked exhausted, utterly drained by the ordeal. Yet, his presence in
the small room wasn't reduced in the slightest. If anything, it was significantly improved. It
felt deeper, more layered, like a well that had just been dug past a new, unexplored aquifer.
There was a new, intriguing depth to his silence, and a noticeably sharper, more potent threat
radiated from him. This was the qualitative change the novel described, the stark difference
between a sole-Core Beast and a dual-Core Monster. He had crossed the threshold.
"How d you feel?" I asked tentatively, stepping closer. He took another few deep breaths
before answering, his tone back to its usual flatness. "I feel...like I've significantly digested
my Secrets Suppliant and Listener Potion...like a weight has been taken off my chest." He
looked up at me.
"It seems there was an aspect of our progression we didn't consider. Apart from the
bottleneck of our current Rank, our Tiers also determine our upper limit. Becoming a
Monster gave me the same power boost as assimilating the Potion, so it seems we have an
easier method of increasing strength."
"So even if we the Acting Method down, we still need a certain number of Soul Cores to
properly digest the Potion?" I muttered to myself.
"But we probably don't need to digest it to advance: I could have become a Rose Bishop even
as a Beast, but my foundation would have been weaker. It seems in this world, sanity isn't
effected, but your power will still lag behind, just like in Lord of the Mysteries."
It was a strange system put in place, but at least we had discovered it now. And Sasrir had
become a Monster, making him a far greater foe. At this rate, he might still be able to contend
against Nephis despite his terrible compatibility against her flames. And that was important,
because Autistic Star definitely wouldn't like what I have planned for the Forgotten Shore.
"Alright, let's head back then."