The Villain's Story - Chapter 777 - 777: The Shade King.

In the land of black ash, the essence of dead worlds, entire civilizations ground to nothing but dust. Eons upon eons of tales of life, living memories that existed as shadows to roam the forgotten lands of black ash, was a hollow space.

Unlike any other, lacking darkness, lacking light, presence, life, but filled with shadows. Tales of so many great heroes and villains, epics and legends, mythic and divines were being told as a hymn.

The shadows of such, were all condensed, mixed in with each other in a seamless harmony. A material that couldn’t be harmed even by the most powerful strike a man, or a monster could unleash, flowed like a river.

An endless sea of shadows, each hollow, yet telling their own story, filled this strange space, revolving around a singular existence. They were his hair, the clothes that covered his body, the very essence of his being.

His blood, his skin, his eyes… all made of countless shadows. They made up his strange throne, which crouched back like a dragon ready to pounce on his prey, victory guaranteed, as always.

The man was asleep, his mighty horns did not resemble a crown in any sort of way, unlike the rest of his kind… instead they seemed to be liquid daggers of some sort. They were one with the sea of shadows, just like his being.

One couldn’t see his face or his body clearly, it was covered with a sort of black mist that blocked the eyes of most, even those of a dragon or a god beast. Helpless before the mist that veiled his supreme being.

Someone… who was more elusive than his own house. Information about the house of Death was already so small… it could be compiled in a page or two, yet this man was unknown.

A supreme being even most Supreme’s had not met, a being they had no idea of… A supreme being that was known only by the most dedicated scholars and the bravest of warriors.

But even they, only knew of him in the form of titles, a purpose given to him before his very birth, perhaps even at the beginning.

The Warden of the Forgotten, The king of shade, and the Final Eclipse.

The second son of Ariel, The primordial of Death, the Sovereign of every shadow that exists, existed, or will exist. The crown of dusk, The Supreme of Obscurity, Kulak, The darkest star.

Here, he existed in his hollow domain, there, he existed in the form of a shadow… one with everything in existence. The shadow cast by a leaf in a veiled forest, the shadow cast by a small animal, gleefully wandering in an endless plain, the shadow cast by a lonely mountain, its truth hidden by layers and layers of snow.

The shadow cast by an elf wandering through the libraries of ElvenHeim, The shadow of a dwarf endlessly hammering a blade, the shadow of an orc practicing his craft of war. The shadow of everything.

But in this hollow world filled with shadows, there existed a golden light in the palms of its sovereign, a light that he refused to let go, no matter what. A light that gave him endless sorrow.

“My king.”

A voice called out to the silent sovereign, as metallic footsteps rang out in the hollow realm, echoing within every single shadow. They made way for the Sovereign’s loyal attendant, a knight clad in metallic shadows, and living flesh.

A combination of both, the greatest masterpiece forged by the sovereign himself, a harmony of shadow and flame, the first person he had saved from the fate that was being forgotten, the worst death one could be given.

A warrior forged of metal that bonded with his flesh, but even his flesh was impenetrable, covered by scales forged in the twilight of the greatest stars, a sword hung to his waist.

Thin like a needle, but capable of cutting anything that stood in a shadow’s way to the domain of his king, the blade that guarded the helpless and guided the lost. The very first the King of Shade carved into his being, into his memory.

The warrior knelt in front of his sovereign, obscured in his strange mist, and spoke.

“My liege, the worlds are growing restless. Please, I beg thee to wake up.”

But the lord was silent, as still as the shadows that roamed the hollow world. No one responded to the loyal attendant, who remained kneeling.

It had been a while since the spirits of the dead, the shadows of the dead, shadows with no master had received proper guidance. His lord was growing… lazy, or uninterested in his duty.

Something the warrior had never seen, he had called out many times, but there was no response. He feared this would be the last.

“… There are visitors to our realm, my lord. Your nephews, Son’s of The oldest and the youngest, Shi and Lanesha. I have been informed they are here for trials.

Will you respond to them?”

Despite the lack of response, the warrior was ecstatic.

“This is the first we have had successors… So I wish that your highness will wake up from your slumber.”

It was his right to be ecstatic, to be happy. For the first time in such a long, long time the house of death had given birth to life. They were the ones without a successor for so long, and finally they had one.

Of course, they had to be tested… but it was still a moment of celebration. Though his king’s absence and lethargy disturbed him, he was sure he would act on this.

“… My king?”

The king of the shade moved his head, looking at his loyal attendant in silence. The warrior could see what no one else could. He could gaze through the mist and see the sovereign in his mighty form.

He could see his king tighten his grip on the golden light in his hand, a struggle he would never understand, never know of.

A silent battle against being forgotten.