Shadow Slave - Chapter 2653 Modern History
Stone steps revealed themselves from the blinding radiance, with tall pillars framing their flawless surface. They ascended steeply into the silver haze, disappearing into the brilliant light like the pathway to heaven…
There was nothing heavenly about them, though, because not a hundred meters lower down the slope, a horrid mass of vivisected flesh was slithering and straining as it tried to escape the wires that bound it and the spikes that impaled it.
The Lighthouse was obscured by the radiance, but it was near, looming in the haze.
A young man was sitting on the steps, staring at the ground. As Sunny and his companions approached, he slowly raised his head and peered at them with his strange, nebulous silver eyes.
The youth looked barely old enough to be called an adult, with beautiful features and dark, flawless skin. He wore a tunic woven out of flowing, luxurious fabric, and his long hair was tied neatly by a piece of metal wire.
As he regarded them with a hollow look, a strange, ominous smile twisted his lips.
Hearing the nauseating sounds of rippling flesh behind them, Sunny tensed and readied himself…
The youth opened his mouth.
What escaped it were not revolting tendrils of flesh, however.
They were the familiar sounds of the human language, instead:
“Kid… is that you? Gods. You look old.”
Sunny froze.
Jet seemed stunned and confused, too. Naeve’s expression was hard to read, while Bloodwave remained his usual grim, nonchalant self.
Staring at the young man somberly, he pursed his lips, and then said in his low voice: “So you’re alive after all, scoundrel.”
The youth studied Bloodwave for a while, not saying anything, then looked behind him.
“Where is Knossos? Where is Typhaon?”
‘Wait a minute…’
Sunny blinked and then peered into the soul of the young man. To his surprise, there was no darkness inside it — just the pure, radiant light of a Transcendent soul core.
Bloodwave shrugged.
“Dead.”
The youth fell silent. A few moments passed, and then he chuckled.
“What kind of Nightmare Creature managed to do those two in?”
Naeve spoke at that moment, his voice sounding a little hoarse:
“It wasn’t a Nightmare Creature. It was the Prince of Nothing.” The young man frowned slightly.
“Who the hell is the Prince of Nothing?”
Naeve sighed.
“Mordret of Nowhere. The banished son of the King of Swords.”
The young man blinked a couple of times.
“Who the hell is… wait, Anvil? Warden’s boy?”
Naeve nodded silently.
The youth studied him for a bit, and then raised an eyebrow.
“I see. And who might you be?”
Naeve stared at him somberly, not saying anything.
Sunny, who had been listening to their conversation silently, chose that moment to speak. He already suspected who the strange youth was, but wanted to confirm it — so, glancing between Naeve and the young man, he asked in a bewildered tone:
“Is someone going to do the introductions?”
Naeve smiled slightly.
“Sure. These are Soul Reaper and the Lord of Shadows.”
He gestured to the youth.
“And this is Nightwalker, the founder of our fallen clan. I am glad to see you too… father.”
****
Sunny was still digesting the fact that Nightwalker, the legendary and mysterious founder of the House of Nigh, was not only alive… but also his buddy Naeve’s absent dad.
The fact that Nightwalker looked a couple of decades younger than his son was not helping him come to terms with that information, either.
‘At least I know why Bloodwave doesn’t like his clan’s founder very much, now… the bastard got his older sister pregnant…’
For all the talk about how the House of Night was not a single family, but an alliance of prominent Legacy Clans of the Stormsea instead, their familial relationships seemed quite complicated.
Sunny sighed.
After the brief introduction, Nightwalker rose and invited them to follow him. They walked up the stone steps, heading for the Lighthouse or one of the buildings surrounding it, at least.
“‘So. Can someone catch me up on what has been happening in the world? I am quite curious.” Sunny gave him a long look, and, since no one volunteered to speak, said in a neutral tone:
“Let’s see…”
When was it that Nightwalker had gone missing, again?
Actually, nobody outside the House of Night really knew.
“A Category Five Nightmare Gate opened in America, so we lost that side of the planet. Immortal Flame and his daughter died there, as well. Broken Sword and his cohort conquered the Third Nightmare. Then, they conquered the Fourth Nightmare and became Supremes. Then, Broken Sword was killed by his companions, and they diwied up the world.”
Nightwalker whistled quietly.
“So they are Supremes now, huh? Actually… so there are Supremes now, huh?” Sunny glanced at him.
“There are seven Supremes, although three of them are already dead. Well… four, technically. Anyway – Valor, Song, and the House of Night established themselves as the Great Clans. Broken Sword’s daughter got lost in the Dream Realm for a couple of years, then conquered the Second Nightmare as a Sleeper. Antarctica got swallowed by Nightmare Gates… that’s one less continent, again. Your son was there, by the way, risking his life to evacuate the civilians.”
Jet smiled lazily.
“I was there, as well.”
Nightwalker studied her with interest.
No, actually…
‘Why is that bastard leering at Jet?”
Nightwalker smiled.
“I assume that you are the Soul Reaper. Nice to meet you, young lady.”
Jet chuckled pleasantly.
“Please call me Jet, mister.”
Sunny stared at them, appalled.
He coughed.
“As I was saying… millions of mundane people settled in the Dream Realm. A few years later, Valor and Song went to war. The House of Night attempted to maintain neutrality,
but in the end, most of its elders were killed by Mordret, and all of its Citadels were usurped.”
Nightwalker’s smile dimmed.
“One man defeated my entire house?”
He turned to Naeve and Bloodwave with a somber expression.
Naeve gritted his teeth.
“That thing can hardly be called a man.”
Nightwalker remained silent for a long while, then sighed and looked away. “Ah, I remember now. That boy was given to the Dreamspawn. It makes sense, then.”
His voice sounded neither somber nor cheerful, just… distant. As if he was talking about
the past he had left behind.
Sunny shifted slightly.
‘The Dreamspawn again…’
So Mordret had not lied.
Nightwalker and Asterion really did have a history…
