Shadow Slave

Sunny dreamt of a mountain.

Jagged and lonesome, it dwarfed other peaks of the mountain chain, cutting the night sky with its sharp edges. A radiant moon bathed its slopes in the ghostly, pale light.

On one of the slopes, the remnants of an old road stubbornly clung to the rocks. Here and there, weathered paved stones could be seen through the snow. To the right side of the road, a sheer cliff face rose as an impregnable wall. To the left, a silent black sea of nothingness indicated an endless fall. Strong winds crashed into the mountain over and over again, screaming in powerless rage.

Suddenly, the moon fell over the horizon. The sun rose from the west, streaked across the sky and disappeared in the east. Snowflakes jumped from the ground and returned into the embrace of clouds. Sunny realized that he was seeing the flow of time in reverse.

In an instant, hundreds of years flew by. The snow retreated, baring the old road. Cold shivers ran down Sunny’s back as he noticed human bones littering the ground. A moment later, the bones were gone, and in their place, a slave caravan appeared, moving backwards down the mountain in the clamor of chains.

Time slowed, stopped, and then resumed its usual pace.

[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your First Trial…]

‘What… what the hell is this?’

Step. Step. Another step.

A dull ache was radiating through Sunny’s bleeding feet as he was shivering from cold. His threadbare tunic was nearly useless against the biting wind. His wrists were the main source of agony: badly hurt by the iron shackles, they sent a sharp pang of pain every time the freezing metal touched his broken skin.

‘What kind of a situation is this?!’

Sunny looked up and down, noticing a long chain winding up the road, with dozens and dozens of hollow-eyed people — slaves just like him — shackled to it at small intervals. Ahead of him, a man with broad shoulders and a bloodied back was walking with a measured gait. Behind him, a shifty-looking guy with quick, desperate eyes was quietly cursing under his breath in a language that Sunny did not know, but somehow still understood. From time to time, armed horsemen in ancient-style armor would pass by, giving the slaves menacing looks.

However you judged it, things were really bad.

Sunny was more bewildered than panicked. True, these circumstances were not like what the First Nightmares were supposed to be. Usually, freshly chosen aspirants would find themselves in a scenario that presented them with a fair amount of agency: they would become members of privileged or warrior casts, with plenty of access to necessary weapons to at least try to tackle any conflict.

Starting out as a powerless slave, shackled and already half-dead, was as far from being ideal as one could imagine.

However, the Spell was as much about challenge as it was about balance. As the old policeman said, it created trials, not executions. So Sunny was pretty sure that, to counter this abysmal start, it would reward him with something good. A powerful Aspect, at least.

‘Let’s see… how do I do this?’

Remembering popular webtoons he read as a child, Sunny concentrated and thought about words like “status”, “myself” and “information”. Indeed, as soon as he focused, shimmering runes appeared in the air in front of him. Once again, although he did not know this ancient alphabet, the meaning behind it was somehow clear.

He quickly found the rune describing his Aspect… and, finally, lost his composure.

‘What?! What the actual fuck?!’

***

Name: Sunless.

True Name: —

Rank: Aspirant.

Soul Core: Dormant.

Memories: —

Echoes: —

of Divinity], [Child

Aspect: [Temple Slave].

no skills or abilities worth a mention.

runes, trying to convince himself that he was

Aspects my

he lost the rhythm of his steps and

Watch

recover his balance. A moment later, he was once again walking

little shit! I’m going

man in front of Sunny chuckled without turning

by sunrise anyway. The

seconds later, he

Just a bit later. I really don’t know

The shifty guy gasped.

fool!

head and concentrated on not

‘What a charming pair.’

voice joined the conversation from somewhere

much warmer this time of year. We just had

“Why is that?”

his

born a slave. A temple slave, to be precise. Not long ago, the Imperials destroyed the last temple of the Shadow God. I suspect that this is how the boy ended up

broad-shouldered man cast a look

afraid of a half-forgotten, weakling

is protected by the mighty War God. Of course they’re not afraid to burn down a few temples. But we here are not protected by anything or anyone. Do you really want to

man grunted, not

leather cuirass, armed with a spear and a short sword, he looked dignified and noble. To Sunny’s irritation, the asshole was really pretty, too. If this was a historical drama, the soldier would definitely be

is going

in his voice, even something resembling

everyone hesitated, the gentle-voiced slave