Shadow Slave

Chapter 8

"Because the monster isn't dead."

These ominous words hung in the silence. Three pairs of eyes widened, staring right at Sunny.

"Why do you say that?"

After thinking about it, Sunny came to the conclusion that the tyrant was, indeed, still alive. His reasoning was pretty straightforward: he did not hear the Spell congratulating him on slaying the creature after it fell off the cliff. Which meant that it was not slain.

But he couldn't explain that to his companions.

He pointed up.

"The monster jumped from an incredible height to land on this platform. Yet it wasn't harmed at all. Why would it be killed by falling off the platform?"

Neither Hero nor the slaves could find a flaw in his argument.

Sunny continued.

"Which means that it's still alive, somewhere down the mountain. So by going back, we will be delivering ourselves into its maw."

Shifty cursed loudly and crawled closer to the bonfire, staring into the darkness with terror in his eyes. Scholar rubbed his temples, mumbling:

"Of course. Why didn't I realize myself?"

Hero was the most stoic of the three. After thinking it over, he nodded.

"Then we go up and over the mountain pass. But that's not all…"

He glanced in the direction where the tyrant had fallen.

"If the monster is still alive, there is a high possibility that it will return here, and then pursue us. Which means that time is of the essence. We will need to move as soon as the sun rises."

He gestured to the torn bodies littering the platform.

"We can't allow ourselves to rest the whole night anymore. We need to gather supplies now. If there was a chance, I would have liked to give these people at least a humble burial after gathering all that we can from then, but alas, fate has decided otherwise."

Hero rose to his feet and brandished a sharp knife. Shifty tensed up and watched the blade carefully, but then relaxed, seeing that the young soldier showed no sign of aggression.

need to find. Let us split up

pointed at himself with the tip of

the oxen carcasses

around the stone platform — most of it drowning in deep shadows

"I'll look for firewood."

and right, with a strange gleam

go find us

left. Hero gave him a long

was stored on the wagon. But each of my fallen brothers was carrying a flagon.

***

in the shadows, Sunny was looking for dead soldiers with half a dozen flagons already weighing him down. Shivering in the

old veteran — the one who had whipped him for trying to accept Hero's flask — was badly injured and dying, but, miraculously, still clinging to life. Horrible wounds were covering his chest and stomach, and

time was running

knelt beside the dying soldier and looked him over, searching for the man's

'What irony,' he thought.

older man tried to focus his eyes on Sunny and weakly moved his hand, reaching for something. Sunny looked down and noticed a shattered sword lying on the ground not far from them.

Why? Are you guys like Vikings, longing to die with a weapon in your

the young slave with some unknown, intense emotion

Sunny sighed.

well do. After all, I promised to watch

that, he leaned forward and slit the old man's throat with the sharp edge of his broken blade, then threw it away. The soldier twitched, drowning in his own blood. The expression in his eyes changed — was it gratitude? Or hatred? Sunny did not

it was his first time killing a human. Sunny expected to feel guilt or fear, but actually, there was nothing at all. It seemed that, for better or worse,

man, keeping him company on this

the Spell's voice

slain a dormant

Sunny flinched.

far as the Spell is concerned. They don't

But, as it turned out, the Spell wasn't done

have received

opening his

Come on, give

to enchanted items. One received from a dormant-rank enemy wouldn't be too powerful, but it was still a boon: weightless and undetectable, able to be summoned from nothingness with a simple thought, a Memory was incredibly useful. What's more, unlike corporeal things, he would be

Give

a Memory:

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