The Fall of Falcon Scott (39)
The voice of the Spell resounded in the boundless darkness of the ocean, making Sunny shudder.
[You have slain a Corrupted Terror, Sybil of the Fallen Grace.] [...Your shadow grows stronger.]
As the veiled body drifted down, wreathed in billowing white silk, one last whisper brushed against his ears:
[You have received a Memory.]
The Terror was falling down, deeper and deeper into the cold abyss. Sunny spared one last glance at the pallid blossom of the great burial shroud, knowing that it would be consumed forever by the dark depths soon. Then, he turned away and tiredly pushed himself in the opposite direction.
Sunny... was not in great shape.
His mind was slowly recovering from the dreadful mental assault, but his head was in the throes of a splitting headache thanks to catching the smallest glimpse of the tapestry of fate. His body felt weak and feverish, still suffering from the backlash of draining all of his essence.
There were the remnants of the trauma caused by touching a Nightmare Gate, as well. Sunny felt like he was about to cough his lungs out. Holding it back was not an easy task...
And yet, a hint of dark, somber glee still managed to overcome the cold numbness that encompassed his battered mind.
'...I did it. I killed that vile thing.'
In the end, he ended the Terror with his own hands. The stain of their disastrous first meeting had not been erased, but his failure at LO49 was... vindicated, now. Somewhat.
Or rather, it would be if he managed to return to the surface alive.
...Which, looking at the dark expanse of the ocean around him, Sunny was not sure that he would be able to do.
'Curses.'
The Terror... Sybil of the Fallen Grace... was dead and drifting lifelessly into the lightless depths. However, its thralls had not perished with their master. They seemed directionless and sapped of power, but there were still almost a hundred of them left.
In his current state, and especially without the active enchantment of the Nimble Catch, Sunny did not count his chances against the creatures as high. A dark grimace contorted his pale face.
'Essence! I need essence...'
Even knowing that it would not be enough, Sunny dismissed Weaver's Mask and the Shadow Lantern. A tiny stream of essence fell into the arid desert of his drained soul, and was instantly consumed by his body. The feeling of weakness diminished a little, but not nearly enough to change the situation.
The thralls were already coming to their senses, their hollow eyes peering through the mass of dark water at Sunny, Bloodwave, and Naeve. Some had begun moving in their direction, full of murderous intent.
'Bloodwave and Naeve?'
Sunny glanced at his companions, hoping against all hope to see them up and about.
Naeve was still stunned, drifting listlessly on the currents.
The Saint, however...
As Sunny watched, the monstrous killer whale flinched, then jerked his head sideways. The span of white cloth still wrapped around it slid off, revealing the great beast's glowing blue eyes. For a moment, they seemed disoriented, but then sharp intelligence shone through the fog of confusion, obliterating it.
An indignant growl escaped from Bloodwave's mouth as he gazed at the drowning remains of the Terror and the approaching swarm of the liberated thralls.
The Saint lingered for a moment, then moved his giant body and shielded Sunny from the enemies with its bulky mass. The enormous jaws snapped, pulverizing the fastest of the approaching Nightmare Creatures. Then, the killer whale surged forward to meet the rest of them.
In the next couple of minutes, a one-sided massacre took place in the dark depths.
Sunny realized in the first few seconds that his participation wasn't required. Instead of getting in the way, he swam closer to Naeve, grabbed him, and dragged both of them further away from the boiling battlefield.
"S—sunless?"
The Nightwalker's voice sounded weak in his mind, but he was conscious, at least. Sunny nodded, then turned the two of them so that Naeve could see his uncle obliterating the thralls.
After a few seconds of silence, he heard the Nightwalker's voice again.
"What... about... the Terror?"
Sunny thought for a moment, then dragged his finger across his throat.
"Ah... good..."
The two of them watched silently as Bloodwave tore the hundred abominations to shreds. Watching a Saint in action was a... sobering experience, to say the least. Sunny shuddered at the thought of having to battle someone like that directly.
And yet... the Terror of LO49 had dealt with the fearsome Transcendent, only to end up being dealt with by Sunny. So...
'Don't get a big head now.'
Sunny was all but certain that Mordret had already killed a Saint. However, knowing how diabolical that fiend was, that clash might not have been a direct battle, either.
...On the other hand, Sunny could easily imagine the Prince of Nothing doing exactly that and crushing a Transcendent in a straightforward fight, somehow, in order to terrify the rest of his enemies and break their wills.
Would Sunny be able to do the same?
T have no reason to find out.'
He had no desire to kill Saints. If anything, Sunny wanted to have more of them around... the more, the merrier. The position of the First Army in Eastern Antarctica was much better than here, in this godforsaken hell, and the Second Army was already on its way. However, the Chain of Nightmares was far from being over.
Who knew what would happen in the coming months?
...It had taken Bloodwave no more than two minutes to annihilate the thralls. Sunny had thought that the Saint would rest for a bit after having to fight a Corrupted Terror and its minions, but the great predator did not waste any time.
Returning to where Sunny and Naeve were floating, he studied the two Masters with one of his giant glowing eyes, then shifted slightly. The tall fin that they had ridden into the depths was now right in front of them.
Sunny helped Naeve find a handhold, then tiredly clutched the steel armor himself.
'Time to go back...'
The pallid shape of the slain Terror had long ago disappeared from view, devoured by the lightless depths. The mangled corpses of the thralls still drifted around them, slowly being carried away by the currents.
Ignoring them, the giant killer whale bellowed and surged forward...
This time, he was moving up.
