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.

clothes, firewood. That is what we need to find. Let us split up

himself with the tip of

carcasses to get us

most of it drowning in deep shadows

"I'll look for firewood."

right, with

I'll go find us

the last one left.

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

***

for dead soldiers with half a dozen flagons already weighing him down. Shivering in the cold,

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 he was clearly in a

was running

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

'What irony,' he thought.

weakly moved his hand, reaching for something. Sunny looked down and noticed a

like Vikings, longing to die with a weapon in your

dying soldier didn't answer, watching the young slave with some unknown, intense

Sunny sighed.

it might as well do. After all, I

leaned forward and slit the old man's throat with the sharp edge of his broken blade, then threw it away. The

Sunny expected to feel guilt or fear, but actually, there was nothing at all. It seemed that, for better or worse, his cruel upbringing

the old man, keeping him company on this

a while, the Spell's voice

slain a

Sunny flinched.

Killing people is also an achievement, as far as the Spell is

it away. But, as it

received

opening his

give

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 able to bring it back with him to the real world. The advantage of having something like that back in the

weapon! Give me a

received a

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