[You have received a ■■■■ Scorched Fragment from the Shadow Domain, Rank ■■■■]

  [Hundreds of years ago, the Shadow Realm signified the true end. The end of the eternal and the beginning of the mortal. However, not all creatures could bear such a truth, and when their will transcended death, the domain was shattered.

  Like a purposeless shadow, yearning only to return to eternal darkness, those fragments waited for their master to bring them back, for their domain to recim them… and so it was, at least for almost all of them.

  In a war between transcendent beings intoxicated by hope, they sought to destroy the moon and plunge the world into darkness using one of these fragments. But their fate mattered little, for the fmes of the sun god fell upon them all equally… including that shadow. Torn apart, burned by a light so intense it would extinguish any darkness, it tore itself apart, colpsed, and finally fell silent. Deep down, where no light could ever disturb its rest again… until it appeared.]

  Saint's eyes lingered a second longer than they should have on those runes. She was never very interested in the descriptions given by the spell that didn't rete to the tool's functionality; she found them impractical and a waste of time. But feeling that apprehension emanating from that shadow again, she couldn't help but feel a pang of responsibility.

  Her senses scanned the white sand dunes as she moved with incredible speed, like a shadow.

  Several days had passed since her escape from that creature born of ash and darkness. Since then, she hadn't stopped, not only out of caution, for she knew for certain that the creature would pursue her, but also out of a sense of urgency. Something was out there, and if she stopped, she was certain of her end.

  From the moment she had obtained Weavel's blood, her senses and intuition had developed in an almost prophetic way. She could somehow sense when a path would lead to certain death or if it represented an opportunity for some purpose beyond her reach.

  She touched his heart, even within the veil of his shadows. There, Weavel's shadow remained sealed in the prison of darkness created by his father.

  She was by no means foolish. She was more than aware that the demon of fate had some part in all these events, but she was not afraid. If that demon was involved, worrying was useless; any resistance would only serve to further his purpose.

  That was the fate of the weak.

  So, she would continue pying his game, at least until she was too powerful to remain just a character in that scheme.

  Her shadows stirred restlessly, tingling beneath her skin as if preparing to escape. She stiffened. Ever since they had entered that realm, her nerves seemed only to grow with apprehension.

  This was supposed to be her promised nd. An embrace that brought the end of eternity and true purification, but instead, all she could think about was getting out of that dead desert as quickly as possible.

  Yes, she felt far more powerful than ever before; free, swift, strong. With a mastery of her surroundings, she could never achieve anywhere else. If there was a pce where she could attain transcendence, it seemed to be here, and yet…

  “They’re coming.” Her master’s shadow pointed into the distance, where stump-like shadows moved erratically like formless creatures. Spikes, tentacles, flesh that wasn’t flesh bubbling in a mass that barely held together, yet emanated a danger worse than the ash-stalker.

  Corrupted Shadows – Saint's gaze turned icy.

  She moved swiftly, but not in the direction of those abominations. Rather, in the opposite direction.

  The creatures weren't strong enough to warrant fleeing. Their ranks ranged from fallen to corrupted, yet their very nature was a far greater danger.

  In their souls, which should have been purified by death, the grotesque roots of corruption swarmed, deforming their being. Worse still, that corruption didn't stay within. As a shadow, her very soul was exposed, allowing the corruption to continue spreading with each new shadow that approached.

  Traveling dune after dune, she finally stopped to hide in one of the few refuges to be found in that realm: the corpse of a great soul serpent.

  She had only managed to see one during the great war between demons and gods, and it was while one of those things was devouring an entire city in one bite.

  Even now, she felt apprehensive about approaching one of these things, even though she was already dead, and she herself, ironically, was a master of one.

  Her thoughts were silenced as the shadows reached her. She knew the futility of running. Like hunting dogs, once these creatures detected a healthy shadow, they would pounce without a second thought.

  That was the only point. Lacking consciousness, they would soon be eroded by the world until they disappeared, but in the meantime… how many shadows would fall?

  She wasn't the kind of being who actively cared for others. Her indifference was a sign of both her nature and her greatest strength as a warrior. But whether she liked it or not, she was now the st of the Shadow lineage who could be entrusted with this task, and she wouldn't shy away from it.

  Even for a demon, the idea of ??Shadow's mercy was a soce in the face of corruption.

  An arrow whizzed through the air, tearing half the body of the first corrupted shadow. But though the impact was devastating, it didn't stop. Reforming itself, changing shape in an incomprehensible way, it continued advancing until a second arrow finally ended its existence.

  The other creatures only paid attention to the fact that a soul free from corruption was nearby. Their movements became even more savage, but beneath the cracks in those colossal ribs, Saint moved like a ghost, calm and strategic.

  Arrow after arrow was fired from all directions, confusing their prey. Even so, the creatures were powerful and numerous. They attacked without giving him a moment's respite, without time to gain any advantage.

  Finally, only the transcendent shadow of a great wolf remained. Curiously, this shadow had moved with more intelligence than the others. There was not only madness, but a technique in his movements that held his form together. A glimmer of distorted humanity hid in eyes foreign to those of a creature.

  She understood without even thinking too much. This was a recently deceased Saint. She didn't know him, but watching him fight on pure instinct gave her a clear idea of ??what kind of warrior he had been in life.

  Even so… this was a mere shadow of what he once was, no, worse still, a stunted version of one. Her bow was drawn with precision. Her enemy charged head-on, whether from a ck of reasoning or from overconfidence in his own power.

  But Saint had had enough. His arrow, not created through a memory, but carved from the bones of those dead serpents, was imbued with the force of true darkness until it turned as bck as the abyss.

  There was no sound, only the impact of a body split in two. The shadow didn't try to regain its form and vanished.

  [You have killed a corrupted shadow.] [Dire Fang]

  Her senses scanned the surroundings, searching for any signs of hidden enemies, but she found nothing. Even her master's shadow seemed calm.

  She would have liked to end this much sooner, but her strongest element, the fusion of shadows—true darkness and divinity—was out of the question for now. When she had unleashed such an attack before, she had quickly been surrounded by those corrupted shadows.

  It seemed too conspicuous.

  Even now, she was apprehensive about using true darkness. Using it here was like putting a hot knife to meat. She didn't know how those around her would react. Still, she was fairly certain that at most, she would be mistaken for one of those shadow hounds.

  A jolt made her stagger. Within her body, the fragment of Shadow's domain struggled to break free and rejoin the rest of her being. She forcefully suppressed it until the fragment, weakened by hundreds of lights, calmed.

  Beside her, her master's shadow materialized, watching her with concern. She missed his old, childlike humor. Lately, with each passing day, that cheerful shadow resembled the bitter man her former master had been.

  They were under immense pressure, and even she seemed to be showing signs of not being unbreakable.

  Saint leaned back against the white bone of the great serpent. Her eyes, which shone like beautiful jewels in that gray world, scanned those ancient bones with a hint of curiosity.

  Perhaps it was time to work on her father's legacy… and that echo gained in Antarctica.