The time had finally arrived; its shadow stretched long and thin across the fabric of the dying world. Beyond the fragile confines of reality, a presence approached with the weight of an inevitable collapse. The host who was tethered to this era remained destined for subjugation, a vessel waiting to be filled. As for the entity who had once transcended that very host, he found himself dissolving into the white noise of the void.
Had this been his quest from the onset? Never.
He sought only a reunion with those he cherished. Perhaps, in a cruel sense, that wish had been granted. One billion times and more, he had witnessed them from behind the veil of his divinity. Yet, he was condemned to observe, never to share their existence or feel the warmth of their recognition. Eventually, he chose to avert his eyes from everything.
It was comedic. A terrible, gut-wrenching comedy to ascend to the status of an Outer God, only to be enslaved by a different kind of Fate.
Therefore, he incinerated Fate once again. His fury consumed her entirely — his own past, his own path, and the very Worldline that would follow. He would never know if the subsequent world would live or die. Their voices would never grace his ears again.
His singular recourse was to entrust the future to 'him.' He prayed with the diminishing essence of his soul that the words of the Song of the Fallen held the truth: that this other version would witness the Miracle and grasp a different Conclusion in his stead.
The Shadow seemed to falter, appearing wobbly and unstable against the backdrop of the workshop. Nether realized the gravity of the situation quickly. The Indescribable Shadow — his body and his pale, white feathery coat — fractured into countless white lines. Letters and symbols streamed forth from the cracks, only to be drawn back within like a tide.
Nether observed with a start. The great King of Outer Gods — the shadow who had purged the Dream Realm and faced the Arch-Angels — now appeared as a pathetic existence, desperately clinging to his own cohesion.
Lethe spoke, her voice sharp with sudden surprise.
「 Your own Story... it is being diminished? 」
The Shadow shook his head slowly, the motion causing more fragments to flake away.
「 Not exactly. It is being pulled elsewhere, and someone is rewriting the ink as it flows. That Indescribable Distance is finally closing the gap between us. 」
The Shadow gazed upon his right hand. He could perceive the grain of Nether's workshop floor through his own translucent form. Nether grasped the meaning of it all.
「 He is coming, then. What a pity. I had grown fond of our meetings, even with my siblings around to ruin the peace. I suppose this is where the road ends for us. 」
The Shadow looked up, his onyx eyes reflecting a deep fatigue.
「 "I" apologize for what comes next. "I" don't think "I" will enjoy dragging you and your sister back into the Nightmare Spell. 」
Nether sighed, his expression one of weary resignation.
「 Don't bother. Even if I fought against it, the frequencies from that Nightmare are already too strong; they would wake me regardless. I don't have a choice in this, and neither do you. I accept your request because there is no other path to take. 」
Lethe tilted her head, her divine composure unphased by the encroaching end.
「 Choice or not, he has a reason to see that Angel destroyed. That thing did more than just wound him; it took Abaddon. For that alone, the creature deserves to die. 」
Nether turned a harsh glare toward the Shadow.
「 And you are the one asking Abaddon to rejoin that repulsive existence. Do not mistake this for a favor. I only want to rip Abaddon out of that Chalice of Want as quickly as possible. If 'he' is the one meant to kill it, I will give him every tool I have to ensure he doesn't fail. 」
Nether shifted his stance, his eyes burning with an old, cold indignation.
「 I made a promise to end Avaritia for what was done to Abaddon... but the Sun God locked that monster away before I could strike. 」
A dark, sharp laugh escaped Nether's throat.
「 How ironic. Because of your meddling, I finally get to finish that conversation. Does that not strike you as a bit funny, Sunless? 」
The Shadow regarded him with an expression of intense spiritual agony. This was the torment of a being who possessed many Giant Stories and Myths, being forcefully re-woven into a new narrative.
「 It doesn't. 」
If the Sunkiller was the one who unleashed hell during the Doom War, then the Sunslayer served as the title for Avarice — an Angel of the Void who had contended with the Sun God in the Age of Gods. The Observer understood then that Abaddon, born of divine blood and angelic heaven, had bound himself to that horror using his own unnatural gifts.
The Shadow chuckled, the sound thick with pain.
「 Good. That... that is good. I have one less thing to worry about now. 」
Lethe watched him, her golden-black eyes devoid of warmth.
「 I fail to see the good in any of this. I won't pretend to understand how your mind works, but to drag a Sunless from another world into the nightmare of your own past and call it 'good'... I suppose this is why those of the Flame and those of the Void were never meant to understand each other. 」
The Shadow offered a small, fractured smile.
「 You're right, Lethe. The desires of the Void aren't really desires at all. They are just a mutable chaos that changes with the wind. "I" can barely keep this form together as it is. But enough talk. "I" need to send you both on your way. 」
He glanced at his fading body, a frown etched upon his face.
「 One task remains. A final safeguard to ensure he can find his way back home. The Etheric Sea is a jealous thing; it will try to stop "me." As if the Nameless Mist wasn't a big enough headache. 」
Nether approached the Shadow, his movements hesitant.
「 The Etheric Sea? I understand now. 」
Nether shook his head, his voice filled with a grim realization.
「 You are a madman. Stretching your Nightmare across different Worldlines creates a bridge. You had to know the things living in that sea would notice the connection. You are practically inviting them to watch. Those are entities that none of us — not the Daemons, not the Gods — could ever hope to contend with. 」
The Shadow shrugged, his form flickering like a dying candle.
「 It was the only way. You know that. This entire Nightmare is built to turn him into a bridge between the Flame and the Void. He needs to hold my Conclusion. The millennia he will spend becoming strong enough to carry a world on his shoulders... that is just a side effect. 」
Suddenly, the Shadow convulsed. A torrent of blood erupted from his lips, and white cracks like lightning tore through his chest. It was not mere energy; it was the very Divine Law he had established to guard the logic of existence. He was being assaulted by the safeguards he himself had built as a Divine-Titan to prevent this very scale of meddling.
Lethe looked at him with an expression of genuine concern.
「 The Law of Plausibility... your own 'Mysteries' are devouring you? 」
The Shadow fell to his knees, but he was laughing through the blood.
「 It is! It means it's working! This is brilliant! 」
He raised his hand and drank his own blood back, conjuring the Nightmare Spell in his other hand.
「 If the laws "I" made when "I" was a god can still hurt me now that I am an Outer God, then the foundation is solid! This wasn't for nothing! 」
Nether looked down at him, his expression darkening into one of pure condemnation.
「 You are absolutely insane. 」
The Shadow went silent for a moment, his breathing ragged.
「 You're right. "I" lost my mind a long time ago. Every Outer God is a monster of incomprehensible madness. "I" am just the only one that can admit it. 」
The King of Outer Gods rose to his feet. Suddenly, the wounds were gone, though it was a hollow illusion; the damage dealt by the Indescribable Distance was already permanent. He looked at Lethe and Nether.
Lethe spoke with a somber tone.
「 Being a part of this is better than being absorbed by the God of Corruption, I suppose. I would thank you for the freedom if you weren't just locking me in a different cell. 」
The King of Outer Gods offered no reply. Nether, however, stepped forward for one final question.
「 Tell me before we go. Why go through the trouble of the Nightmare? If you want him to have your power, why not just give him your memories? This whole charade would be unnecessary. 」
The Shadow looked at Nether with a hollow, empty gaze.
「 Because "I" was the reason for the failure. Every one of those billions of cycles failed because "I" was the one living them. "I" need a version of me that holds the power of Eternity but is unburdened by the spirit of who "I" was. If he regains my memories, he becomes "me." And if he becomes "me", the cycle starts again. 」
Lethe's expression was masked in confusion.
「 So you are fashioning a vessel for the Conclusion without the weight of the journey? You are granting the divinity and profanity of a god to an existence that has no foundation in the blood that paid for it? 」
The Shadow shook his head.
「 Yes. "I" am giving him the Aspects, the Blessings of the Gods, and my own gifts. "I" am too far gone to save myself, so "I" am forcing another version to succeed where "I" died. And his world is...already different. It was untouched by my cycles until the Seed picked it. It appears someone else has already interfered with his fate. And though "I" will still burn even that Worldline's fate away, it still makes him the perfect wild card. 」
Finally, the King of Outer Gods stretched out his hand.
「 Farewell, Lethe. Farewell, Nether. You won't remember this when you wake, but remember the goal. He must master everything. Weaving, Runic Sorcery, the strength of will. He must become a being of both Flame and Void — incorruptible, yet already corrupted. A being who can lead his world to a dawn that I never saw. 」
The King of Outer Gods chuckled softly.
「 This is my final experiment. "I" am betting my entire existence on a version of myself that was given every advantage "I" never had. If a Sunless with the fragments of every God and the mastery of two sorceries still can't find a different ending... then there never was one. But at least I'll die knowing "I" tried everything. 」
The dream was severed in an instant. The memory was veiled and locked away in the deepest recesses of the Observer's mind as the world returned to him. He opened his eyes, the weight of the King's final wish lingering like a phantom ache before the Dream Realm claimed his focus.
—
Unexpectedly, motion roused Sunny. This movement was steady. Each step vibrated through the surface he occupied, each impact followed by the scrape of stone.
For several long seconds, he kept his eyes closed. He drew a breath.
Dust. Metal. Water.
These scents registered, familiar now.
His eyes cracked open. The multi-hued furs of Silvershade Harrow filled his vision.
A minute passed as he gathered his thoughts. A weak, breathless chuckle escaped him then, a sound that brought more pain than it should have, a testament to his injuries.
"Still here, huh…" his voice was rough, his throat parched.
He shifted slightly, regretting the decision instantly. Agony flared through his right arm, merciless. He opted instead to turn his head with care, assessing his surroundings to confirm his return.
He lay sprawled across Silvershade Harrow's back. His Echo, against all odds, had survived the battle.
It walked, foregoing flight.
Radiating determination, its stride carried them onward. The ruins of the Dark City passed beneath its hooves, its remaining wing tucked close, the other dragging uselessly at its side. Even from his prone position, Sunny saw the damage clearly. The silver feathers were shredded, matted with darkened blood, their pristine sheen ruined. The membrane beneath had been torn in a jagged line.
The source of the damage was apparent. Something had carved through it mid-flight.
His gaze ascended.
A black crack split the mask obscuring Silvershade's true visage. It forked downward, a stark fissure against the pale surface.
Sunny studied it for a long while. The thought occurred that a creature of corruption had inflicted this harm.
Luck had played no part in the events that transpired in the sky.
He tried to recall the encounter. A storm cloud, appearing from nothing. Crimson lightning flashing within. A silver shape streaking past, too swift for his eyes to follow, too sudden for his mind to process.
One wing, burning red. A presence so overwhelming that even the Lord of the Dead seemed insignificant next to it.
He remembered his thoughts then: 'it was Corrupted.'
Yet, something was distinct about the creature. It held an aberrant nature, transcending a mere Corrupted abomination.
The proof? It had not finished him.
The strike had not targeted him directly. It had merely grazed Silvershade, rupturing its left arm through sheer proximity. The creature, if it had desired his demise, would have required less effort than swatting a fly.
Instead, it had veered away, shifting south, then vanishing.
Sunny frowned, burying his head into the fur. He felt a sting that he had not been deemed worthy of a killing blow.
For now, he settled for gratitude.
He rested his head fully against Silvershade's back, listening to the steady rhythm of its steps. Each stride carried them farther from the lake, and more importantly, farther from that ominous sky.
"...You did good," he murmured quietly. "Seriously."
The Echo offered no response, yet its pace held constant.
Moments later, Sunny forced his thoughts toward matters he could control.
The Iron Key.
He lifted his hand with care and drew the key forth. He had observed its nature: it was not a Memory. The metal felt cold against his fingers, deceptively ordinary for an object that had twice brought him to the brink.
Only one last 'light' remained.
Beneath the Cathedral.
Guarded by… the Black Knight.
Sunny grimaced.
He pictured confronting that towering figure again in his current state and almost laughed. His chances were practically nil, even at full strength.
But he had journeyed this far. He intended to see it through.
Before he fully comprehended the transition, the scenery around them began to shift. The broken outskirts yielded to familiar ruins. Silvershade stepped once more into the plaza of the Dark City.
Sunny lifted his head slightly, scanning the area. It was empty. His shadow sense detected nothing.
Where were all the Nightmare Creatures?
They had previously swarmed this place relentlessly.
A strange unease settled upon him.
Almost absently, he glanced upward — and froze.
The strings of divinity still stretched across the sky, luminous as always.
However, threads of shadow now intertwined through them, along with silver. These strands converged unmistakably toward the Cathedral. Sunny slowly raised the Iron Key, observing how the nearest threads shifted.
It was imperceptible, yet undeniable. The very winds seemed to acknowledge the key's presence.
His heart skipped a beat. He understood then. The act of claiming the key had fundamentally altered the strands.
Silvershade continued its forward movement.
Then, without warning, a brilliant light flared at the distant horizon.
Sunny hissed, squeezing his eyes shut, overwhelmed by the sudden brilliance after such a long time beneath the starless night sky. For a moment, he believed it to be another attack.
Warmth touched his face then.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and sat up.
Silvershade paused, lifting its masked face toward the light.
Far in the distance, beyond the ruins, something burned bright once more.
Sunny exhaled in disbelief.
"I… I can't believe I'm saying this, but… I missed the sun."
The Nameless Sun shone once more.
Dawn had returned.
And the Crimson Terror had recovered.
—
"It's been a while."
Sunny stood before the grand gates of the cathedral. Silvershade Harrow waited directly behind him, his only true defense, considering Saint remained in recuperation. As Sunny entered the Cathedral, the changes were immediately evident.
The strands of divinity that streamed through the skies were potent within the interior.
They possessed a captivating quality. Each strand — golden, silver, and shadow — was magnificent. They converged upon a single point. Situated somewhere beneath the grand hall, opposite his current position.
Moreover, the Darkness itself—
Sunny found himself staring, disbelieving.
The Black Knight, typically guarding the entirety of the Cathedral's grounds with vicious duty, cowered.
It stood in a corner, fear radiating from its form. Not precisely cowering, for it maintained its imposing stature, sword in hand, poised for defense.
But the Darkness itself was being torn apart. This was an impossible sight, yet before his eyes, it happened.
The Knight was forced against the far wall of the Cathedral. Each attempt it made to approach Sunny resulted in the strands thrashing out, pushing it back.
Sunny's inclination was to approach and seize the opportunity to dispatch the towering figure, a dark thought. But he hesitated, unwilling to test if those strands would extend their protection to him.
He continued his path. If the Black Knight could not approach him due to the source of all this light, then he would not squander the opportunity.
He had never entered this place before, kept at bay by the living darkness and the Black Knight. Now, with the adversary cornered, Sunny would finally witness what lay hidden within.
He moved through the chambers and passageways, once occupied by the cathedral's clergy, assessing his surroundings but discovering nothing remarkable. Much of the place lay in ruins, reduced to rubble and decay, with only a few ordinary objects left undisturbed.
One would expect nothing of importance here. Yet—
Sunny stopped abruptly before a wall and tilted his head.
The wall appeared completely ordinary, devoid of visible markings or irregularities. Yet beyond its surface, he sensed a dense concentration of pooled shadows.
A hidden passage.
"Huh. A secret passage in a creepy ancient cathedral. How… interesting!"
After searching for a time, he discovered a hidden lever and attempted to press it.
The ancient mechanism, rusted and disintegrated over thousands of years of neglect, resisted.
"Of course it did. Such things are never easy."
With a quiet sigh, Sunny summoned the Midnight Shard. He leaned forward, inspecting the hollow section of the wall, finding the faint seam where the stone segments met. He slid the tachi into the narrow gap. Then, without ceremony, he braced himself, using the unyielding blade as a pry bar, forcing the mechanism to yield under the full weight of his inhuman strength.
With a terrible scraping sound, a part of the wall slid inward. The air rushed past Sunny, entering the dark maw of a narrow corridor.
Behind it, a set of stone stairs descended.
Deep underground.
"...Of course it goes down. It always descends. Never ascends. Never 'here's a nice sunny balcony with a view.' Always a descent into the creepy, murderous basement. Damnation!"
With a resentful grimace, Sunny flourished the Midnight Shard, shaking off the clinging dust, then placed it upon his shoulder, entering the secret passage.
The hidden passage led Sunny underground, winding through the mass of stone. Despite cautious movement for several minutes, Sunny felt he remained beneath the cathedral. By his estimation, he approached its center.
The strands of divinity strengthened here. He felt them pulling at him, guiding him forward with an insistence that was almost physical.
"Great. Not only am I walking into certain doom, but fate itself drags me there by the collar. Wonderful."
Indeed, precisely beneath the spot where the goddess statue should have stood, the narrow passage opened into a larger room. Within it, a deep well led even further down, a winding staircase spiraling into the darkness.
Sunny frowned.
"What is it with this place and creepy dark wells?"
Further descent would place him perilously close to the catacombs. He recalled the danger previously: his last venture into the maze of ancient tunnels below the city had ended in a narrow escape.
"Then again, I've barely escaped alive from almost every location on this cursed shore. At least I maintain consistency. Effie would be proud…"
After hesitating for a while, he stepped onto the staircase and began his descent. Deep, ancient shadows surrounded Sunny, offering a small measure of comfort.
At least he was among his own kind.
The strands of divinity grew brighter as he descended, weaving through the darkness like luminous threads. Golden, silver, and shadow — all pulling him deeper.
"Right. Because nothing suggests a 'good idea' more than following mysterious glowing strings into an ancient underground chamber. Surely certain this will end favorably."
Even as he formed the thought, he knew he would not turn back.
His intuition — that damned, persistent intuition that had preserved him through countless torments — screamed that this held significance. Whatever lay below was important.
After a minute or so of descending the stairwell, Sunny entered a large chamber, seemingly carved into the bedrock, rather than constructed by human hand.
There, on the opposite side, stood a large door forged from black steel.
Illuminated by two burning torches.
Sunny stopped.
The torches burned with colorless flames. They were pale, ghostly, devoid of heat.
Upon consideration, the torches appeared peculiar. They emitted light, but it was cold and lifeless. And the shadows they cast…
The shadows cast by the ghostly flames were profoundly disturbing. The movement of the fire should have caused them to dance upon the floor. Instead, the shadows remained absolutely motionless. It was as though the torchlight had somehow trapped and paralyzed them.
"That's… unnatural."
Sunny pondered for a moment before instructing his shadow to maintain its distance.
It offered no argument. If anything, it displayed gratitude.
With a few overly dramatic steps, the shadow retreated, melting into the dense darkness pooling at the chamber's entrance. It lingered there, half-hidden, casting uneasy glances toward the strange, motionless shadows clinging to the walls.
"Even my shadow experiences fear. By the Spell… why is nothing ever simple?"
Sunny advanced toward the black door with measured steps, raising the Midnight Shard defensively, his body braced for any emerging threat.
…But nothing attacked him.
The only occurrence was a sudden chill that permeated Sunny's body as he entered the circle of light cast by the two ghostly torches. It sank into his bones, cold and invasive, a touch ancient and aware.
"These torches are… they are definitely a form of protective charm. I feel certain their power can harm even shadows."
The question he faced was this: were the torches designed to prevent something from entering the space behind the black door…
Or were they meant to contain something within?
"Well… there is only one way to learn the truth. And with my luck, it must be the latter."
To an outside observer, Sunny's actions would have appeared as pure madness. Yet, no recklessness marked them. He had not descended into these depths out of idle curiosity, nor had visions of hidden riches lured him here.
'Though to be honest, treasure would be magnificent! I am deserving of a reward after all my tribulations!'
What had led him here, compelling him to scrutinize the black door, was his intuition.
By now, Sunny acknowledged that his intuition was more than a mere manifestation of his subconscious. It had proven accurate far too many times.
Especially since he had consumed the drop of ichor.
From that moment, the presence of the divine had become impossible to ignore. It brushed against his awareness, and on rare occasions, guided his steps without his consent — first toward the cathedral, and earlier, toward the secret entombed within the Lord of the Dead. A pattern existed, whether he liked it or not.
And Sunny felt he was about to discover its nature and purpose.
But his intuition possessed other capabilities.
In his perception, this sensation was distinct from the dim ember of divinity he carried. It felt far more like the influence of [Fated]. Since the ichor had remade his body, that Attribute had grown keener, allowing him, on rare occasions, to discern faint disturbances rippling through the strands of fate — strands that, disturbingly, seemed coiled around him.
'Like a noose. A very persistent, very annoying noose that constantly drags me into dreadful situations.'
The transformation of his eyes, coupled with his unwelcome intimacy with those invisible threads, granted Sunny a faint sensitivity to fate and moments of revelation — an echo of Cassie's gift, albeit diminished to the point of near insignificance.
It was enough to guide him to this door and to compel him to open it.
As Sunny approached the towering black monolith, he studied its seamless surface, comprehending that few things could breach it.
The metal from which it was forged appeared familiar: disturbingly so. Dark, lusterless, impossibly dense. The same alloy that composed the Black Knight's armor.
"Great. So this door is made of the same material as the bastard who nearly killed me…"
A small keyhole, however, lay hidden on its dark surface.
Reaching for the thread at his throat, Sunny drew out the small metal key resting against his chest, closing his fingers around it.
The key glowed faintly with golden light. It was warm, almost alive..
"Here goes nothing. Or everything. Probably everything. Why am I talking to myself? Does isolation breed this internal monologue?"
After a brief pause, he guided the key toward the lock and slid it in with deliberate care.
It seated without resistance. The moment the metal met its counterpart, the dim radiance of divinity clinging to it swelled, then throbbed softly — once, twice — as if acknowledging a presence beyond the door.
Sunny sighed, then readied himself and turned the key.
Something disengaged within the black metal. The door moved in utter silence. On the other side, pale, corpse-like flames shuddered, bending to a current that felt like a passing presence.
Every strand of divinity — golden, silver, and shadow — vanished without a trace.
'That's… probably bad.'
Sunny felt his blood run cold.
Behind the door, a small room was carved into the rock.
And in it, a corpse in a dark mantle was chained to the floor inside a circle.
Sunny could not discern whether the corpse belonged to a man or a woman, for a strange mask covered its face.
The mask was carved from black lacquered wood. It resembled a ferocious demon, its teeth bared, four fangs protruding from its mouth. The mask was crowned with three twisted horns.
Within the black chasms of its eyes, there was nothing but utter darkness.
No.
Not darkness.
Light. Overwhelming, brilliant, blinding light. And shadow. Both at once, writhing together in those hollow sockets.
The corpse itself was covered in golden cracks. Deep fractures ran along its limbs, its torso, and neck. No inch of it remained unbroken.
The moment Sunny laid eyes on it, his entire being recoiled.
His breath caught. His pulse hammered in his ears. Every instinct screamed for him to flee.
But he could not move.
'What… what is this?!'
And all at once, multiple phenomena occurred.
The overwhelming divinity that had flooded the Forgotten Shore vanished instantly. Across the land and sea, Nightmare Creatures suddenly lost their hunger for the blessed light. The Lord of the Dead forgot its purpose for surfacing. Each of the Disasters froze in place, utterly bewildered.
And before Sunny…
The Spell began to speak.
[The Attribute 'Regressor' has begun to open its eyes.]
The fog that had clouded Sunny's memories — from the time of his First Nightmare to this precise moment — was ripped away in an instant.
He recalled everything.
Everything.
And he also recalled why the Attribute was so important.
He remembered then. He remembered what the appraisal of his First Nightmare had mentioned.
It had mentioned that he turned back this world.
The fog had lifted, receding like a tide to leave the shore of Sunny's mind bare and exposed.
All of it.
He stood before the chained, golden-cracked corpse and the ferocious demon mask, and for the first time since awakening on the Forgotten Shore, his thoughts were not a chaotic storm but an icy, diamond-clear stream. He was no longer a boy playing a role he didn't understand.
He remembered.
He remembered the winter solstice night, the feeling of the soft mattress beneath him — a luxury he had once been foolishly grateful for. He remembered reading the appraisal of his Nightmare, turning the word over in his mind until it felt like a jagged stone.
Regressor.
The persistent, crawling incorrectness of his own life finally made sense. The choices at the Academy had not been choices at all, but echoes. He hadn't chosen Wilderness Survival merely because of Master Jet; he had chosen it because he already knew he would need it. He hadn't sat by Cassie at breakfast out of chance; he had sat there because a ghost within him already knew her. Looking at Nephis hadn't been a first meeting; it had been a reunion.
Both sets of memories now flowed into his skull, converging like two rivers meeting the sea.
He remembered the "other" months in the Dark City. He remembered the cold black water of the sea and Nephis standing at the prow, her calmness a lighthouse in the dark. He remembered Cassie's small, beautiful laugh — how it always managed to surprise him, no matter how many times he spent hearing it. He remembered the foolish, precious moments: Nephis failing to understand a joke only to smile a minute later, or the way he felt a debt to Cassie that could never be settled with soul shards or memories.
His chest caved with the weight of it.
His future self — the one who had walked to the very end of the world — had reached a conclusion.
And then he had sent a Seed backward.
Sunny stood in the underground chamber, the ghostly torches casting flickering shadows across the mask's hollow eye sockets. His intuition, that nagging, fate-adjacent impulse that had driven him to swallow divine ichor, had gone silent.
Its task was finished. The remainder fell to him.
Sunny inhaled, the air cold and sharp in his lungs.
The golden-cracked corpse twitched. A tremor ran through its broken, ancient limbs — not the movement of life, but the final shudder of a vigil that had lasted too long.
He felt no fear.
It was a strange thing to catalog. No dread. No urge to retreat. Only a clarity so absolute it felt physical. He thought of the people on this cursed shore — the ones he pretended not to care for, yet had bled for regardless. He thought of Nephis and Cassie, existing somewhere out there in the dark, performing their own struggles. He hoped they were safe.
He genuinely, sincerely hoped his "angelic" girlfriend and his "oracle" were well.
He took the final step.
The golden cracks in the corpse pulsed one last time, brilliant and desperate. Sunny reached out. His fingers brushed the cold surface of the mask.
The world went silent.
Not quiet. Silent. The torches, the stone, the dark — everything folded into a single, seamless point of nothingness.
He stood above black water.
His reflection gazed back, undisturbed and perfect. He knew this place. Its particular depth resonated with the part of his soul shaped by a god's dead blessing. He held the mask up, looking at the ferocious demon face — its four bared fangs, its three twisted horns. Light and shadow churned in its eyes, intertwined.
The Spell spoke then, its voice taking on a tone unlike ever before.
[The Iron Key has fulfilled its purpose.]
[The lock has found its key.]
[The Unholy Miracle 'Regressor' is trembling!]
[…Lost from Light, would you like to witness the past of the True Worldline, to comprehend the full power that was yours, the suffering that was accounted for, and the future left behind in the dark, restored to your hands?]
Sunny's breath caught. He almost said yes instantly. But the Spell continued.
[I must warn you, Lost from Light. If you choose to reclaim it, no return exists. From this point forward, fate will be — ■■■]
The silence stretched.
Sunny stared at the mask. He considered the offering: knowledge, power, and the weight of a life already lived. He would know what approached. He would know the past that didn't belong to him.
'Why?'
Why had his concluded self returned? What was so fundamentally wrong with the end that he had chosen to unmake it?
He needed to know.
He lifted the mask and put it on. The fit was perfect. It had always been destined for him.
'Yes.'
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the Spell's voice returned — distorted, warped into something else entirely.
[The Outer World Covenant is activated!]
'…huh?'
What the hell was an Outer God Covenant—?!
[Your True Name will disappear from this 'Worldline.']
['Viceroy's Dimensional Door' has been…!]
'Come again—?!'
[The Outer World Covenant is protecting your existence.]
[Dreamer! Prepare for your '???' Trial…]
[Welcome back, ■■…]
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[Dreamer! Prepare for your '???' Trial…]
[Welcome back, ■■…]
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[Dreamer! Prepare for your '???' Trial…]
[Welcome back, ■■…]
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[Dreamer! Prepare for your '???' Trial…]
[Welcome back, ■■…]
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—
The world faded to black. The world was gone.
Sunny dreamt. He dreamt of silver light and deep sorrow. He dreamt of a woman whose light had guided him, only to find her standing in a field of snow, looking at him with eyes that held no recognition at all.
Sunny dreamt of the origin and the conclusion.
[Welcome back to the Nightmare Spell, ■■.]
[Your treachery truly knows no bounds.]
He was an observer now, hovering outside a body that was once his. He watched the tapestry of a tragedy unfold.
Asterion had been defeated, stripped of his domain by the Song of the Fallen. He lay on the glass-strewn ground, powerless. But as he died, the Dreamspawn shuddered.
"Avaritia… Avaritia… Chalice of Want… please, take sustenance in me…"
The words were a death knell. The skies, the ground, the very fabric of the world went silent. The Seal had shattered. The long-imprisoned monstrosity was free.
In one moment, Nephis and Mordret looked toward Godgrave. In the next, Godgrave was gone — devoured. A vast mass of True Darkness spilled forth from the Seal.
[All shall bid farewell to you, and that you alone will witness the miracle…]
[I'm… I'm sorry… Sunny…]
Those were Cassie's final words.
Then came the end of everything.
He watched the flames being plucked from Nephis's domain. He watched the reflections in the glass being swallowed by the black. He watched "Sunny" let out a wail of tectonic sorrow as Rain's life was snuffed out.
The Darkness surged, overwriting the Law of War. Mordret offered a final, mocking farewell before perishing. Nephis embraced Sunny, her eyes filled with a terrifying despair. She commanded him to live, her kiss the last warmth in a dying world.
He watched himself lose his mind, desperately clawing at the glass to gather the pieces of her — her silver hair, a torso, a delicate hand. He tried to make her whole, but she was gone.
[Light Bringer] permeated his being. He was now a creature of both Shadow and Light. He was now a being who possesses two Aspects, two confluences.
He was incorruptible. He was alone.
The Sky was devoured. A long, swan-like neck emerged from the abyss.
An eye opened — a solar furnace wrapped in angelic rings, dwarfing the Ivory Tower. Hundreds of eyes followed, turning the sky into a living constellation of despair. Wings spanning the heavens unfurled, feathers of radiant blood and blackened gold. Chains of flame crawled along the edges of the horizon.
It was an Unholy-Titan. Avaritia had descended. It was free.
The world faded to black once more.
[The Unholy Miracle 'Regressor' is realizing what needs to be done.]
[Regressor <2nd Turn> (???)]
Sunny watched through cycles of absolute slaughter. For four regressions, "Sunny" could not even move before being crushed.
On the seventh, Sunny finally took control. He stepped into the role of a Supreme Titan — a rank he shouldn't have possessed as a Dreamer, but the Nightmare had no rules here.
It was a hell of eternity.
On the sixty-third regression, he escaped to the Shadow Realm to find ten years of peace and death.
On the ninety-eighth, he began to weave, attempting to refine his skill in it.
On the one hundred and twenty-fifth, he began to make small progress.
He lived through one hundred and twenty five lifetimes. He recalled Rain, Nephis, and the cohort die a thousand times over. He inherited their deaths. He inherited the loneliness.
Standing in the lifeless expanse of the Shadow Realm alongside six incarnations of himself, Sunny looked up at the silver brilliance of the sky. He felt the Soul Essence he knew not how to wield — a reservoir the same size as his own Shadows.
He had Avaritia to slay. He had a weapon made of memories and spite.
Sunny laid back on the cold ground and let out a sharp, jagged laugh. His incarnations looked at him, their expressions varied but their thoughts identical.
"I'm going to die another thousand times before I complete this Nightmare, aren't I?"
He was.
"Haha!"
He grinned at the Silver brilliant sky.
"Well… at least "he" didn't send a cockroach to do a god's job. Just me."
'…'
'Oh wait. I am a cockroach!'
Fortune favored the bold, and Sunny was feeling very, very bold. He had an entire eternity to get this right, and he wasn't planning on wasting a single second of his suffering.
The playground was ready. And the Lord of Shadows was just getting started.