The barren landscape of the Eastern Quadrant shifted subtly as Sunny approached the coastal regions. Signs of civilization began to erge—distant smoke plus, worn paths cutting through the wasteland, the occasional glint of tal in the distance. He was nearing human territory now, which ant Nightmare needed to proceed with greater caution.
Sunny extended his shadow sense across the terrain like invisible tendrils, mapping every settlent, outpost, and patrol route within miles. They moved carefully around these obstacles—discovery would be catastrophic. After all, the world believed the Lord of Shadows to be dead, and it was best to keep it that way.
He exhaled slowly, a sound that carried both weariness and satisfaction.
The anticipated clash between Saint and Slayer remained unresolved. While this brought a twinge of disappointnt, Sunny found himself oddly at peace with the delay.
Swaying gently with Nightmare's rhythmic gait, he allowed himself a quiet mont of reflection.
*How far I've co, * he mused.
His power had grown beyond all expectations. Supre rank was his, and with it ca command over four Supre Shadows—Saint, Slayer, Serpent, and Fiend. Nightmare would likely ascend to higher ranks soon, and even Mimic had achieved Transcendent status.
The Shadow Legion itself had flourished during their ti in the Burned Forest, now boasting Sacred-tier shades among its ranks.
Such overwhelming power...
It was the kind of strength typically reserved for divine beings, not mortals. There was no point in false modesty—he possessed enough raw force to level entire worlds. If that didn't qualify as godlike, what possibly could?
"But that's missing the point entirely," he murmured to himself.
Destruction alone didn't create divinity. Any fool could tear down what others had built. True godhood lay in creation—the miraculous ability to bring new worlds into existence. And despite all his power, Sunny couldn't create worlds.
He could, however, craft extraordinary things.
His fingers brushed against his chest as mories of the Dark City's forge flooded back. Those grueling weeks spent creating his first shadowbound mory had nearly broken him. The process had been so taxing that he still hadn't fully recovered, yet the results filled him with quiet pride.
"Worth every mont of suffering," he whispered.
The achievent would have been impossible without Mind Weave's assistance.
The ruined cathedral's great hall lay shrouded in unnatural quiet. After a full year of constant hamring from the King of Swords’ shade, the silence felt almost oppressive. The Shadow Legion had withdrawn into Sunny's soul during his unconscious recovery from Mind Weave's integration, leaving the sacred space eerily vacant.
Sunny barely noticed the stillness, his attention consud by the intricate model suspended above him—a vast spellweave that stretched from floor to ceiling, its complexity staggering to behold.
"Nearly complete now," he said, studying the shadowwork patterns.
This weave represented years of dedicated effort. The initial concepts had ford shortly after he'd forged the Blessing, evolving and refining over countless iterations. Most of the foundational work had been completed before his recent collapse, but Mind Weave had provided the key to resolving the final theoretical conflicts. Of course, this shadowy model remained purely hypothetical—theory and practice were often cruelly different.
still, Sunny sensed this was as ready as he'd ever be. Waiting for perfect conditions was a luxury he couldn't afford.
Shadowbound mories operated on entirely different principles than ordinary ones. Their weaves needed to be dynamic, capable of growth and adaptation. This required patterns that balanced rigid structure with organic flexibilty—a paradox he'd learned to navigate while creating the Blessing.
Watching the Spell improve upon his original design had given him the confidence to attempt his own shadowbound creation.
«Ti to begin.*
The approaching Dreamspawn threat and the remaining Weaver's Lineage fragnts created an urgency he couldn't ignore.
The intricate shadow tapestry dissolved at his command, flowing back into darkness. Three figures erged from the shadows monts later, moving toward the forge with purposeful strides.
His own incarnations, naturally. One remained in the Burned Forest while two worked alongside Nephis south of the Hollow Mountains. Four pairs of hands would have to suffice.
Even the Dark Lord of the Forgotten Shore had abandoned his throne for this endeavor, leaving Aiko to manage the Shadow Clan's affairs alone.
The Shadow Forge's great anvil stood empty, the King of Swords" shade waiting silently behind it. Each incarnation placed their collected materials on the weathered surface with reverent care.
The final component landed with a clear tallic chi that shattered the cathedral's silence. Sunny examined the gathered ingredients.
Shadows preserved in eternal frost from the Winter Beast's death. A polished ivory fragnt—bone from the colossal Soul Serpent whose remains he'd discovered in the Shadow Realm and later used against Slayer.
A spool of Nether's diamond thread, recovered from the Ebony Tower's depths. Strands of midnight silk, woven by the Puppeteer's own hands.
And finally...
Seven iron rings.
Not rely rings, but links from an ancient chain—the very bonds the Sun God had used to imprison Hope, which Sunny had claid in the Ivory Tower's Gateway Hall
One crucial ingredient remained.
His own blood.
sunny looked toward Anvil's shadow and managed a weary smile.
"I hope you're ready for this."
This work would demand everything from both of them.
Soon, flas roared to life in the forge, and the ancient rhythm of hamr on anvil echoed through the cathedral once more.
The creation of a shadowbound charm had begun.
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