Sunny had no clue how to create, decipher, or manipulate runic magic. His inherent ability to see the weave and inner structure of magical items, the one he had received after consuming the drop of ichor that fell from Weaver's eye, also gifted him with an innate understanding of the essence of spellweave.
While studying the mories created by Spell, Sunny was not able to fully understand the intricate purpose of the vast patterns of ethereal strings… but he at least could intuitively feel a hint of it.
He had no such advantage when it ca to other forms of sorcery. So, despite the fact that he had managed to perceive the enchantnts encompassing the Red Colosseum, it was not like he could simply change them, or create new ones to counteract the old.
He could study the runes, of course… but with no teacher and only his wit and intelligence to help him draw the correct conclusions from observing various enchantnts, it would take hundreds of years to gain enough insight to learn how to create any aningful runic sorcery of his own.
Sunny, however, wasn't discouraged. Yes, he would not be able to create runic sorcery any ti soon.
But destroying things was always much easier than making them.
Locked inside the narrow cage, surrounded by the sll of Nightmare Creatures and filth, Sunny stared into the darkness and thought.
Destroy the enchantnts of the Red Colosseum…
In theory, it was simple to achieve. He just had to break enough runes to disrupt the paths they created for the soul energy. The problem with that, however, was that the runes Hope had used were giant, and carved into nearly unbreakable stone. Sunny doubted that he would be able to do enough damage to the arena to cause its sorcery to fail.
...Causing a smaller and temporary disruption, however, was not entirely impossible. He felt that he would be able to achieve that much, at least… perhaps enough to free himself of the binding enchantnt for a second or few.
Would several seconds of freedom be enough to escape this cursed place?
It was going to have to be…
As he waited in the darkness, a seed of a desperate plan started forming in his mind.
***
At so point, Sunny straightened and sat cross-legged at the center of the cage, causing it to sway lightly. Raising one of his four monstrous hands, he stared at it for a while, and then commanded shadow essence to stream forward, concentrating at the tips of his fingers.
Even since he had consud Weaver's alabaster phalanx and acquired Bone Weave, the tactile sense of his fingers went through a strange tamorphosis. It was now much more nuanced, vibrant, and keen. Even though his hands were currently bestial and covered by thick calluses, this sensitivity remained.
As shadow essence concentrated in the tips of his fingers, he felt a strange, ghostly tingling sensation. It was so real as to almost appear physical…
Tentatively raising another hand, Sunny hesitated for a few monts, then pinched the air near one of his tingling fingers and tried to pull essence outward.
To his surprise, it worked.
In his mind's eye, a strand of darkness suddenly extended into the air, summoned by his hand. It didn't look like one of the radiant strings he was used to seeing inside mories, and neither did it look like the flowing liquid that essence was usually depicted as.
Instead, the strand of shadow essence looked like a tenebrous fog, similar to the grey wisps that rose from Saint's armor when one of the shadows wrapped itself around her.
It was insubstantial, epheral, and elusive, not at all like the sharp and beautiful strings that spellweave was created of.
Sunny frowned slightly, and pulled the fog with one hand while trying to get a hold of it with the other, wishing to draw it taut, and thus more concentrated.
However, this small movent instantly caused the strand to break, dissipate, and disappear, blown away by a gust of wind.
'This… is going to take so ti.'
Grim, Sunny continued to draw on his shadow essence and try to form it into a thin and durable string, emptying a small portion of his reserves with each failure. By the ti morning ca, he had not made any progress at all, and only managed to waste most of his essence in futile attempts.
Fighting after wasting so much power was going to cost him a lot.
Soon, the Ascended jailer appeared from the darkness, chains rattling on his belt. Sunny glanced at the giant in a tattered red robe, and then closed his eyes for a mont.
'Doesn't matter… it doesn't matter. I'll be dead either way. But now, at least, there's a chance…'
He fought in the arena, killed the Nightmare Creatures, retrieved the soul shard to empower Elyas, and then barely survived in the battle against the Awakened Warriors on the final stage.
At night, he continued to experint with shadow essence, trying to shape the elusive fog into sothing resembling an ethereal, resilient string. When his essence ran dry, he slept for a few minutes, and then woke up with a startle to start all over again.
When the morning ca, he fought. When the murdering was over and done with, hidden in the darkness, he tried to weave strings out of the effervescent fog. The idea itself seed ridiculous, mad, and impossible… how could sothing so intangible beco sothing strong, durable, and distinct?
He sundered flesh and had his flesh sundered, then struggled to create sothing out of nothing, day after day, night after day. Ti lost any aning… Suny had already been struggling to hold on, but now, drained by the lack of sleep, the constant pressure of trying to shape essence into a magical string, and the need to fight in the arena with his reserves half-empty because of it, he was slowly sliding into the dark and bottomless abyss.
And yet, he persisted in his obsession, teaching his fingers to feel the smallest fluctuations of the fog, to guide and shape it, trying one approach after another, endlessly, without resting or giving up.
And by the ti his second month in the Red Colosseum was coming to the end and most of the cages in the lightless dungeon hung empty…
Sunny suddenly straightened, staring at his cut, trembling hands.
Between them, a single ethereal string hovered, black as night, thinner than a hair, and as sharp as a diamond blade.
A low growl escaped from his mouth.
'It's done... I've done it!'
User Comments
0 comments from readers