"How paradoxical.”
The immortals lingered at the edge of the expansive square, their flawless, youthful visages swallowed by the oppressive shadows cast by the towering spires of the Eternal City. Only their eyes shimred—iike frigid silver stars—mirroring the glow of the magnificent towers.
They appeared to watch the Shadow Legion with amused curiosity... yet that was a deceptive facade. Sunny now recognized that their grins were but elaborate disguises— masks these abominations donned to mimic humanity.
But there was not a trace of humanity within them.
With a clearer gaze, Sunny observed details that had escaped him amid the chaotic battle against the demon who had greeted them upon entering the city. From ti to ti, sothing writhed beneath their supple skin as if desperate to break free, and their stunning faces briefly contorted into grotesque snarls.
Previously, Sunny had believed these entities cloaked their dreadful natures beneath human guise. Now, he understood it was the other way around—they appeared human involuntarily.
In truth, these radiant immortals strove endlessly to transform into monsters. Yet every ti their bodies started to warp into loathso aberrations, the very enchantnt that granted them eternal life forced their flesh back to its forr beauty.
Thus, they were not fiends masquerading as humans; rather, they were creatures eternally imprisoned within human shells against their own will.
An eternal tornt.
This unsettling contradiction sent a chill down Sunny’s spine—and given that the skin of these fallen immortals literally writhed and twitched, he felt only greater unease.
Though these ethereal youths seed fascinated by the Shadow Legion, they were in fact biding their ti, awaiting reinforcents.
What began as a handful of figures swelled into a throng, and that throng blossod into a vast horde.
The mass surged across the plaza like an unstoppable tide.
Sunny drew a steadying breath.
"Here we go."
His mind raced in a whirl.
How should he confront these abominations? What strategy could secure victory while maximizing advantage for both himself and the Shadow Legion? After a mont's contemplation, the answer surfaced swiftly.
Ironically, it was almost insultingly straightforward.
In the early days of his awakening, Sunny had depended primarily on his combat skill and tactical intuition to survive. His technique, physical capability, and ntal focus dictated the course of his fights.
But as ti passed and both he and his foes grew stronger, his triumphs increasingly stemd from cleverness and the power of his soul's arsenal. Skill and martial prowess retained their foundational importance, but many victories ca from manipulating obscure enchantnts tied to seemingly inconsequential mories in surprising ways. Lately, the outcos hinged even more on arcane forces. Who wielded greater strength? Whose magic was more adaptable? Whose understanding was keener? In battles between godiike entities, the very essence of their nature often determined the fight.
Facing the wave of corrupted immortals, however, Sunny realized he had co full circle.
Since claiming the Eternal City would boil down to a grueling war of endurance, he had to limit casualties. To do that, he must return to fundantals.
"There was no mystery in passing this trial—only conventional warfare." His greatest edge lay in the Shadow Legion's discipline: a coordinated fighting force, unlike the dreadful but disorganized mob of fallen immortals. Therefore, each shade had to fight with the precision and artistry of exalted warriors, moving seamlessly as a single unit. Beyond that, classical military principles were paramount. He would have to guard against flanking maneuvers, exploit terrain advantages, seize or improvise fortifications to reduce losses, and master even the simplest battlefield tactics like formations.
It was a far cry from the conceptual clashes of rival Aspects... yet it was a familiar battlefield.
sunny adjusted his mindset with remarkable speed.
Only monts remained before the corrupted immortals struck the Shadow Legion's formation...
And in that brief ti, Sunny resolved his course.
Given how critical fine control of each shade was, and despite his prior success with Mind Weave, he needed even greater command.
So, inhaling deeply, he summoned one final shade.
The Rat King rested deep within the shadowed recesses of his soul, freeing Sunny to call forth another Sacred shadow.
As the fell immortals lunged forward, their bodies undulating and exploding into streams of shredding flesh, a colossal silhouette materialized above the square.
A gigantic ebony moth unfurled its imnse wings, resting atop the principal tower of the Dark Castle, dominating the ramparts beneath.
Sunny had conjured the shadow of Puppeteer Moth, the Spirit of Doubt.
Gazing over the plaza with its vast obsidian eyes, countless delicate strands of spectral black silk radiated outward like a spider's web—so fine as to be nearly invisible.
Each filant embedded itself in the back of a shade, tethering them all to the Puppeteer.
Simultaneously, one of Sunny's avatars dissolved into shadow and entwined itself with the Sacred shade, sharing its senses.
"Ahhh..."
A shudder coursed through Sunny as the overwhelming sensation of rging with a Sacred shadow flooded him. It was alien, imnse, beyond full comprehension... Yet he grasped the link between the Puppeteer and his army.
In this way, Sunny secured nearly perfect mastery over his immortal legion.
ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ NoveI-Fire.ɴet
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