Well… it was about time I finally went to meet Nephis and her little group.
I would've preferred to just walk out like a normal person. Quiet. Unnoticed. No complications.
Unfortunately, Seishan had locked the door.
Which meant I had to do things the old-fashioned way.
I moved toward the edge of the window and glanced down, carefully, just in case I'd somehow missed a miracle. No such luck. A cluster of guards patrolled directly below me, their armor catching torchlight, and even more of them were stationed near the main gate of the castle.
So much for jumping down dramatically.
Well.
I guess a dramatic exit was impossible now.
Ah… oh well.
I sighed and leaned against the door, tapping my fingers against the stone while mentally running through my options. The plan itself was simple. Embarrassingly so, really.
Just use my own blood to open the door.
I cut my palm, ignoring the sting, and shaped the blood as it flowed out—slowly, carefully—forming it into a crude key. The process always felt oddly relaxing, like sculpting something out of myself rather than just manipulating a tool.
I slid the blood-key into the lock, then reshaped it inside, adjusting its ridges and teeth until it matched the mechanism perfectly. A small twist of my wrist—
Click.
The door opened without resistance.
"Yeah," Gluttony said immediately, his tone dripping with disappointment. "Way less dramatic than fighting our way out."
I stared at the open doorway.
Yeah. Of course he'd comment.
"Well," I thought back at him flatly, "I do have to pretend I'm dead. Fighting an army of guards isn't exactly subtle."
"Sure," Gluttony replied. "But you could've at least done a cool monologue. Or struck a pose. Maybe made the door explode."
I rolled my eyes and sighed internally.
"Have you been watching my memories again? The ones from when I was a kid watching cartoons?"
"Yes," he said without hesitation. "But in my defense, you had excellent taste back then."
"…Thanks? I guess."
As much as I would've loved to argue about how my taste had evolved with age, I'd much rather not bump into anyone.
I stepped into the corridor, pulling my cloak tighter around myself.
"Seriously," I muttered under my breath, "how are there so many drunks here?"
I didn't even need Gluttony to answer that one.
Guess they really liked the idea of my death.
Gluttony chuckled softly in my head.
"Yeah," he said. "I like that idea too."
I clenched my jaw.
How was I trapped with this thing in my head? And why—why—was it taking so damn long to find the exit?
After another minute of walking, Gluttony cleared his throat.
A fake coughing sound came after.
I knew for a fact he practiced that just waiting for this moment.
"Well," he said innocently, "I'd say it's taking so long because you're walking in circles."
I stopped dead.
…Gods damn it all.
I turned sharply and stormed in the opposite direction, refusing to acknowledge him any further. I was not giving him the satisfaction.
Finally, mercifully, I reached the exit.
And of course—
A group of drunks were blocking the doorway.
Laughing. Singing. Shoving each other. Completely unaware they were standing between me and my last shred of patience.
Gluttony, I thought darkly, I'm rethinking your plan, maybe we should have a dramatic exit.
He chuckled, but there was hesitation in it this time.
"Now wait just a moment, Al," he said. "Remember—if you die, I die. And we have very little blood in storage so I can't heal you."
I sighed audibly. Not that it mattered. None of these idiots would notice if the world ended in front of them.
"Fine," I muttered. "Let's do this cleanly."
I cut open a vein in my arm and let the blood flow freely, gathering it slowly until I had about a cup's worth hovering beside me.
"Gluttony" I thought "close the wound while I work."
"Alright." He answer quickly.
The bleeding stopped soon after, and I shifted my focus forward.
I thinned the blood into a nearly invisible stream and guided it along the floor, slipping it beneath armor plates of the drunk standing closest to the door.
I hardened the tip.
Then punctured the skin at the vein in his left arm.
The moment my blood entered his system, I felt some resistance. Tho because he was both a sleeper and drunk it wasn't that much of a resistance.
After a few seconds, his body accepted my blood completely.
I twitched my fingers.
His arm swung out and punched another drunk square in the face.
The reaction was immediate.
Shouting. Cursing. Someone tripped. Another shattered a bottle.
Within seconds, a full-blown brawl erupted.
That was my cue.
I slipped past them unnoticed and exhaled only once I was clear.
"I'm never dealing with that again."
Gluttony laughed in my head.
"Never say never, Al. Knowing your luck, you just jinxed yourself."
I rolled my eyes again. At this rate, they were going to pop out of my skull before I even reached Nephis.
Finding her, surprisingly, was easy.
Despite the massive gathering, Nephis and Sunny were practically inseparable—and Sunny's blood was… distinct. Easy to track, once you knew what to look for.
I found him eventually.
Sitting alone on a rooftop.
Huh.
I paused at the edge and looked around, half-expecting Nephis to be lurking nearby, hidden just out of sight.
Nothing.
Guess his girlfriend left him.
Good for him.
I couldn't care less tho.
I climbed up to join him, gritting my teeth as my boots scraped against stone. My patience was already thin, and every muscle in my body seemed personally offended by the idea of climbing anything ever again.
If I had to climb one more wall today, someone was getting a blood-forged knife through the skull.
"Hey, Sunless," I said casually once I hauled myself onto the roof. "Where's Changing Star?"
I dropped down beside him, letting my weight sink into the stone. He didn't answer right away, but he didn't need to.
One glance told me everything.
His eyes were fixed downward.
Below us, Nephis, Cassie, and Effie were practically besieged—surrounded by people holding bowls and empty hands, voices overlapping as food was handed out. More than usual. Far more.
A few brave—or stupid—idiots tried getting handsy with the blind girl.
They didn't stay brave for long.
They left with broken arms.
Courtesy of Effie, of course.
I snorted quietly.
I hadn't actually expected Sunny to answer me. He rarely did unless he felt like it.
But after a moment, he spoke.
"Down there."
Flat.
Tight.
Unhappy.
I raised an eyebrow and followed his gaze again, as if confirming what I already knew.
"Ah," I said. "So why aren't you down there?"
I leaned back, folding my hands behind my head, letting my eyes drift upward instead. The clouds crawled lazily across the sky, smothering the moon in thin, shifting layers of gray.
It was peaceful up here.
Too peaceful, maybe.
For a few seconds, Sunny didn't answer. I wondered if I'd pushed too far—or if he was just deciding whether I was worth the effort.
Finally, he spoke.
"I don't like having so much attention on me."
I blinked.
That… actually made sense.
I let out a slow breath and nodded slightly, even though he wasn't looking at me.
"Same," I said. "Attention's overrated."
Dangerous, too.
Attention got you remembered.
Remembered got you hunted.
We fell into silence after that.
A real one. Not awkward. Not tense.
Just… quiet.
I didn't mind it.
There was nothing I could do down there anyway—not while Nephis was surrounded like that.
I layed back against the cold stone roof, hands folded behind my head, staring at the clouds drifting lazily across the night sky. The moon was hidden behind them, which was fitting. Nothing here ever showed itself fully. Everything was half-hidden, half-rotten, pretending to be something it wasn't.
After a while, I spoke again, mostly because the silence was starting to annoy me.
"Hey, Sunless," I said, my voice casual, almost lazy. "What's the reason you keep fighting? Is it just to escape the Forgotten Shore?"
I expected him to dodge the question. He usually did when he didn't feel like talking, and I wouldn't have blamed him. I wasn't exactly known for pleasant conversation. Most of the time, talking to me led to bloodshed, existential dread, or both.
But after a long pause—long enough that I thought he'd decided to pretend I didn't exist—he answered.
"I just want to survive."
I blinked.
That was it?
No grand dream. No heroic ambition. No speeches about saving people or changing the world.
Just survival.
For some reason, that answer sat heavier in my chest than I expected.
"Huh," I muttered. "Fair enough."
We stayed quiet for a bit after that. I could hear distant singing below us—off-key, loud, joyful. People celebrating my apparent death. Gods, that still felt surreal. I'd killed thousands of Nightmare Creatures, survived horrors that should've erased me from existence, and this was how people reacted when they thought I was gone.
Relief.
Joy.
Songs.
It was… enlightening.
"But what about after?" I asked eventually. "Assuming we get out. What do you want to do then?"
Sunny sighed, and I could practically feel the weight behind it. Like he'd asked himself that question a thousand times and hated the answer every time.
"I'd like to become a memory sailsman," he said quietly. "Live a peaceful life."
Peaceful.
I almost laughed.
A peaceful life wasn't something you returned to after this place. It was something you lost, piece by piece, and never noticed until it was gone.
Then he added, "But why are you so confident we'll escape? You've been trapped here for two years already."
Ah.
So he knew.
I smiled faintly, more to myself than to him.
"Because before," I said, pushing myself up onto one elbow, "I was the only truly exceptional person here."
He turned to look at me then, clearly skeptical.
"And now?" he asked.
"Now," I replied lazily "there are three."
He frowned.
"Who would those three be?"
I lifted my hand and raised three fingers, letting the gesture hang between us for a second longer than necessary.
"Well," I said calmly, "I'm obviously one of them."
I lowered one finger.
"And then there's your girlfriend. Changing Star."
Another finger folded down.
Only one remained.
I turned my hand slightly and pointed it at him.
"And the last exceptional person… is you."
Sunny didn't respond right away.
He stared at me, his expression tightening—not offended, not flattered. Conflicted. Like he'd been handed something he didn't know what to do with.
Praise, for him, wasn't a gift. It was a danger. A spotlight he hadn't asked for and didn't want.
"Me?" he said slowly. "I'm nowhere near as strong as you or Nephis."
Strength.
Everyone always thought strength was just numbers. Essence. Rank. Raw destruction.
Idiots.
"Strength isn't what makes you exceptional," I said. "Potential does. And you have more of it than Changing Star."
Sunny scoffed clearly trying to downplay himself. "I'm probably weaker than Effie."
I rolled my eyes again they started to hurt at this point.
"Believe whatever makes you feel comfortable," I said. "But when you become a Master someday, you'll remember this conversation."
I paused, then added with a smirk:
"And you'll feel very stupid."