Bronya did not hesitate when her boots touched the fractured stone of the battlefield.
Whatever uncertainty had lingered in her expression during the descent was gone, replaced by the cold, decisive clarity of soone who understood exactly what was required of her. The mont she stepped forward, her presence seed to settle over the chaos like an unspoken command, and then she raised her hand.
Her Aspect answered instantly.
An invisible pulse spread outward from her, not as a visible shockwave but as sothing deeper, sothing that slipped into the bodies and souls of everyone present. It was subtle in sensation yet overwhelming in effect. Muscles tightened with renewed strength, fatigue dulled, and reflexes sharpened beyond their natural limits. The Silvermane Guards felt it first, their strained stances stabilizing as their movents beca faster and more precise. The IPC soldiers followed, their disciplined formations growing sharper, their weapons steadier in their hands.
It was a flat increase.
Fifty percent.
No conditions, no diminishing returns, no distinction between weak and strong. The effect applied equally to all.
Sunny felt it imdiately.
His grip on Hail Sorrow adjusted instinctively as his body recalibrated to the sudden change. The difference wasn’t like a burst of adrenaline or borrowed strength that threatened to tear itself apart under strain. It was clean, seamless, as though this had always been his true baseline and everything before had been artificially suppressed.
Bronya did not stop there.
Her gaze shifted quickly between Sunny and Gepard, and in that brief mont, she made a calculation. Then, without hesitation, she activated her Awakened Ability. This ti, the cost was evident. Soul Essence burned within her, a controlled expenditure rather than a reckless surge, and a second layer of augntation settled into place.
Hail Sorrow responded first, a faint vibration running along its length as its already terrifying edge sharpened further. Gepard’s shield followed, its surface seeming to condense, its presence growing denser, heavier in a way that suggested absolute resilience.
Another fifty percent.
Bronya exhaled slowly, her breathing controlled as she stabilized herself. She could have pushed further, could have enhanced more targets, but that would have been wasteful. In a situation like this, restraint mattered just as much as power.
Sunny glanced down at his sword, then at his own hands, testing the weight and balance of his body under the augntation. After a mont, a small smile ford on his face.
Bronya’s Aspect was far more dangerous than he had initially given it credit for. A flat amplification that did not weaken against higher-ranked targets ant that even soone like him — an Ascended — received its full benefit. The sa applied to Hail Sorrow, a Transcendent weapon that should have resisted lesser enhancents.
For soone who was only Awakened, that was absurd.
Sunny exhaled once, then moved.
The long black longsword was elegant in its simplicity, its extended blade reflecting nothing, its edge sharp enough to subtly warp the air around it. It lacked ornantation, but it didn’t need any. Its presence alone carried enough weight.
He held it loosely in one hand, then summoned more.
Two mories ford at his side, attaching themselves to the chain on his belt with a faint tallic click. The first was unsettling in its design — a small iron statuette depicting a young woman holding a spear in one hand and a human heart in the other. Her body was mostly bare, covered only by a crude hide tied around her thighs, and her face was obscured in shadow. From the wound in her chest, blood flowed steadily, as if the heart she held had once been her own.
mory: [Dying Wish].
mory Rank: Transcendent.
mory Tier: I.
mory Type: Charm.
mory Description: [A young woman once wished to be free, but could only find her freedom in death. She called upon it, and touched by her sincerity, death ca. But instead of embracing it herself, the young woman delivered death to those who held her in chains.]
mory Enchantnts: [Death Wish].
Enchantnt Description: [Those who witness the wielder of this mory are compelled; friends to be inspired, foes to seek the wielder out. The power of the mory grows the more enemies they give the gift of death, and can be consud to heal the wielder’s wounds.]
Death Charge: [0/1000].
Sunny didn’t need to examine it. He already knew what it would do.
The second mory appeared beside it, and the mont it did, the battlefield shifted. It was a small lantern, no larger than his palm, its fra resembling the layered scales of a serpent. Its walls were made of glossy black morion that reflected nothing, and a small door rested along its side. When it materialized, the darkness around Sunny deepened instantly, becoming heavier, colder, and more oppressive.
This was not simply night.
This was sothing older.
The shadows stretched unnaturally, pooling and thickening across the ground as if they had gained substance. Colors dulled, sound seed to recede, and even the air felt heavier to breathe. Then, with deliberate control, Sunny opened the lantern.
Shadows spilled out.
Not in an uncontrolled flood, but in a asured release, restrained by his will. He didn’t allow them to blind his allies. He simply let them claim the battlefield, saturating it in a depth of darkness that only he could fully perceive through.
To everyone else, the world dimd.
To Sunny, it beca clearer.
Satisfied, he stepped forward — and vanished.
A ripple moved through the shadows, and he reappeared in the center of the battlefield, surrounded on all sides by the encroaching Nightmare Creatures. His grin returned, sharper this ti, carrying a dangerous edge.
"All eyes on !"
The effect was imdiate.
Dying Wish activated, and attention shifted unnaturally. The Silvermane Guards felt their morale surge, a wave of confidence washing over them as their focus snapped toward Sunny. The IPC soldiers straightened instinctively, their discipline tightening as if anchored by his presence.
The Nightmare Creatures reacted more violently.
Every single one of them turned.
Their movents shifted, their instincts aligning toward a singular objective. Dozens, then hundreds of distorted forms locked onto him, their attention fully consud as they ignored the Awakened soldiers.
Their Dormant minds couldn’t possibly resist a Transcendent mind hex.
Sunny raised his sword.
Then he moved.
There was no gradual acceleration. No visible transition. One mont he stood still, and the next he was gone. The first creature lost its head before it even registered the attack, the blade passing through its neck so cleanly that the body remained upright for a fraction of a second before collapsing. The second was cleaved down the middle, its form splitting apart as though reality itself had been cut. The third lost its limbs in an instant, its body crumpling before it could even complete its motion.
Sunny beca a blur.
His movents were not wild or chaotic, but precise to an almost surgical degree. Every step placed exactly where it needed to be, every swing calculated to maximize efficiency. His pseudo-Transcendent Essence flowed seamlessly through his body, reinforcing each action without excess.
He didn’t slow.
He couldn’t.
The battlefield transford into his domain as he tore through the horde with terrifying speed. His blade carved through flesh and bone alike, leaving arcs of destruction in its wake. Nightmare Creatures of every form — ghouls, rodents, insectoid horrors, twisted beasts—fell without resistance, their bodies collapsing before they could even comprehend what had struck them.
He didn’t rely solely on his sword.
At one point, he caught a lunging creature mid-air, his hand closing around its throat. With a sharp clench, its throat was torn out, and instead of discarding it imdiately, he used the corpse as leverage, sliding across another fallen body as if it was a surfboard while pivoting into a sweeping strike that cut down multiple enemies in one motion.
Blood spread across the ground, then the air, then everything in between.
Sunny moved like a storm, a black streak cutting through a sea of red. The Awakened soldiers could do nothing but watch, their minds struggling to process the sheer speed and brutality of what they were witnessing. This was not just skill or power.
It was overwhelming dominance.
The numbers climbed rapidly.
One hundred. Two hundred. Three hundred.
The battlefield grew unrecognizable, layers of corpses and gore piling beneath his feet. The creatures stopped feeling like individual threats and instead beca a continuous mass to be erased.
Five hundred. Eight hundred. One thousand.
He did not stop.
One thousand two hundred.
Sunny ca to a halt, his sword hanging loosely at his side as blood dripped from its edge. The battlefield, monts ago teeming with Nightmare Creatures, had fallen into an unnatural stillness. The horde was gone, erased so quickly that even the Gate seed to hesitate before producing the Awakened abominations.
He blinked, once, then again, as if confirming what he was seeing.
"...Huh."
’Maybe Sparkle was right. I... I am the protagonist!’
...He was never going to say that again.
He wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand, leaving a faint sar across his cheek, and turned slowly. That was when he noticed the silence wasn’t just from the absence of enemies.
Everyone was staring at him.
Their expressions ranged from shock to disbelief, their eyes fixed on him as if trying to reconcile what they had just witnessed with reality.
Sunny frowned, then his expression shifted into a scowl.
"The hell are you all looking at?"
His voice cut through the quiet, sharp and irritated.
"Has nobody ever told you it’s rude to stare?"
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