Shadow Slave Cinema (reaction fanfic)-Chapter 15: Ballade of Death

Everyone grabbed their armrests in panic as they strained the soles of their feet against the floor, bracing themselves.

The shockwave before them continued to roll out, the cinema groaned in response as the room continued to shudder and rock slightly. Compared to all the previous occurrences before, this was by far the most violent reaction.

Meaning, that the battle before them was at an even more devastating level then what they could see, as a monstrous battle of will and authority raged on, unseen to the eye. Fortunately, the cinema filtered and protected them, otherwise they might have been dropped to their knees from the gravitation of the overwhelming weight of their nascent domains.

Wisps of dust began to stir ahead of them, as two figures shot out like a blur, almost too fast for the eye to see, even for a Saint.

'F—fast...'

Sunny barely managed to deflect the blow by sensing, rather than being fully aware of, the coming strike. The splinter of the ivory fang met the obsidian blade and pushed it aside, sending a jolt of pain traveling through his arm.

'...Strong, as well.'

The nebulous slayer was terribly fast, and terribly strong. Perhaps in any other place, Sunny would have stood no chance against this adversary — but here in the Shadow Realm, the infinite abyss of shadows was imbuing him with dire prowess.

It was not quite comparable to the augmentation of his shadows, but close to it. So, he could at least resist. Sunny deflected the obsidian knife to the side and blocked the bone knife by crossing two ivory blades of his own. Then, he attacked with three splinters of the ancient fang that remained.

He had six hands at the moment, after all. But his nebulous enemy was elusive. Using flowing footwork, they seemed to disappear like a mirage, sidestepping all three of the counterattacks and somehow managing to flank Sunny at the same time. All that his improvised daggers managed to pierce were the wisps of ghostly smoke.

'Crap...'

Sunny moved his three left arms, trying to defend his side, and instantly lost two of them. Severed cleanly, the inky-black hands fell to the ground — but that, at least, had bought him enough time to reel back and avoid being skewered himself. He felt a cold chill run down his spine. Sunny had hoped that the mysterious slayer would not be as deadly up close as they were at range... but these hopes were now crushed thoroughly.

The damned archer knew how to handle a knife, as well — in fact, they fought with an utterly chilling level of skill and intent. Their style was as lethal as it was straightforward. There were no embellishments, hesitation, or complicated philosophy to its deadly grace. Just pure lethality, inhuman ruthlessness, and absolute killing intent.

An uncompromising aggressiveness that aimed to slaughter the enemy in the most swift and efficient fashion, discarding all else. Making all else seem unimportant.

Which was not to say that the way the mysterious shadow fought was not insidious. In fact, they were like a personification of devious will — deception was a killing tool as well, after all.

Everyone lived in the same moment, as they watched the furious exchange of blows. Despite the room having to constantly follow their movement with tumultuous fluidity, similar to that of a rocky rollercoaster that would make most feel queasy – but nobody felt ill.

In that moment, nothing else existed. The duel consumed all thought, all breath, all sense of time.

No one was shocked by the sheer brutality—no, they had long been humbled by the life Sunny lived. They had seen his trials, his nightmares, his ascension through carnage. But this... this was different. This was something beyond survival.

This...was art

Before, they had witnessed the savage clash between Sunny and Daeron in monstrous forms—a raw, merciless brawl of fangs and blood, impressive in its ferocity but devoid of grace. That had been a storm of destruction, untamed and reckless. But now... now they saw the truth of him.

Every step was deliberate, a whisper of motion flowing into the next, like ink spilling over a canvas. Every strike carried purpose, calculated and sharp, an equation of death solved in real-time. The rhythm of his movements, the symphony of his limbs and mind in perfect harmony—this was not mere combat.

This was a killer refined, polished to the peak of lethality.

A shadow honed to a blade's edge.

Whether one felt awe or horror, admiration or dread, there was no denying it. They watched, transfixed, drawn in like children witnessing something beyond their understanding—something beautiful, and terrifying, all at once.

Nephis was especially enamoured by the sight, her fingers slightly tightening around her armrests, as she paid no mind to even breathing.

Her eyes graced over every subtle movement, a rare look of adoration in her eyes, reminiscent of someone witnessing a marvelous performance in an opera house. Unconsciously her lips parted, as an honest remark escaped her mind.

"Beautiful...." she whispered.

Usually, the words would not have escaped Effie's attention, but in the moment, she rarely neglected the opportunity as she also stared at the scene with utter fear and amazement.

"D-Damn..." she gasped,

Even Morgan who was usually cold with steely and calculative indifference, also held a look of curiosity and awe as she watched the dance. She surprisingly failed to contain herself, as similar honest words escaped her mouth.

"Exquisite...."

All the Saints despite having their own battle arts with personalities and traits they had owned, looked at the scene like an attentive class, even Daeron's eyes glinted with a hint of admiration.

Even Jet's attention wavered as her arms slowly lowered, allowing Ling to wriggle free and see what was happening. His jaw dropped as a ludicrous look of happiness formed on his face, letting out an excited squeal.

"Woahh...." he mumbled.

Ananke turned as she noticed his successful escape, slowly reaching over and transferring her to his lap. Realizing he was about to be banished from the show the adults got to watch, his face shifted as he looked up at Ananke, and pulled out the greatest weapon he owned.

The puppy eyes of a four year-old.

Ananke only smiled in response, "Dear...your mother will reprimand me if I let you watch such things" she whispered.

Ling pouted, "But it's not fair!" he whined.

Ananake held his gaze, as a cunning smile formed on her lips.

"Oh? And what value does this have, if anything this scuffle means nothing before the mightiest four year-old in all worlds!" she chortled.

Ling hesitated, as his face betrayed a smug look for a second, only changing as the cinema began speeding up, following the battle between the two shadows. He turned back to Ananke, a sheepish smile on his face.

"But it's cool...." he meekly whispered.

Ananke's shoulders slightly shuddered, as she looked at the killer face Ling was putting on. A face that would send any softhearted adult to the grave. Her shoulders dropped as she let out a defeated sigh, unable to argue.

It was pretty cool...

"It seems my flaw has changed, now I strangely can't resist your request, guess I can't stop you little cub" she joked.

Ling beamed as he turned back around, eyes wide as the fight continued.

Defending himself desperately, he took a step back, then another. His entire body rattled from the immense strain of withstanding the ferocious, devastating blows of the enemy, and the situation only seemed to grow more dire and frenetic with each heartbeat.

But that was fine, as well.

After all, Sunny was not without tricks himself. His two severed hands were now laying on the ground behind the archer, having yet to dissolve into intangible shadows. And that was for a good reason — because just then, they suddenly moved and rose into the air, carried by two flexible shadow tentacles. Still grasping the splinters of the ivory fang, they shot at the archer's back with the speed of supersonic missiles.

...And the bastard still dodged them, somehow. Granted, the mysterious shadow was at least forced to halt the chilling and seemingly unceasing assault to disengage, performed a strange mix of a spinning somersault and a cartwheel that had no right to look graceful, and yet did, rolled over their shoulder, and slid back on the glossy obsidian.

There was no rule that limited Sunny to only using his bone blades, after all. In fact, he would be a fool to do so. Sparing the vague figure of his enemy a brief glance, Sunny called upon the shadows and unleashed a maelstrom of shadow chains, clawed hands, and bladed tentacles upon the nebulous slayer.

At the final moment, something that had been dormant in Effie once again woke up, the words having registered in her head.

'Sunny called upon the shadows and unleashed a maelstrom of shadow chains, clawed hands, and bladed tentacles upon the nebulous slayer.'

"...."

'Shadow chains..?'

'Bladed tentacles...?'

A wicked idea formed in her demented mind, the signature wolfish grin appearing, as she opened her mouth and turned to Nephis, only to freeze. No words came out of her mouth as she remained frozen on the spot.

This was....fear?

'No...Nephis hasn't openly retaliated once, nor can she with the violence warning, so why am I starting to chicken?'

Her eyes continued to move in strange consideration, as she paused, coming to a realization. Was she in danger....from distracting Nephis from the fight? The previous elicit jokes were not enough to break her, but she was willing to put their lives on the line to enjoy the battle?

Well....it wasn't too far off.

Nephis did seem to find more pleasure in battle than actual pleasures....although the previous scene in the Sunphis lounge spoke otherwise.

Hesitantly, Effie lowered herself back into her seat, not brave enough to provoke the predator to her side. Nor was she aware enough to notice the true threat, who had been Jet, intensely staring her down the whole time, ready to jump in and put her back in line. It was like she had developed a new sense, catered to knowing when Effie would act up. Her gaze faltered, as a low voice caught her attention.

"The way he uses the shadows...is quite impressive" Revel echoed, a hint of admiration and fear about what she would do against him in battle as someone who seemingly countered his abilities.

Saint Cor nodded, "Indeed, it's hard to say he has any limitation or counter in battle with such versatile abilities"

"His movements in battle are also quite formidable and fluid...." Morgan murmured in agreement, causing some of Valor to shift, unused to the rarely placid tone coming from her.

"The Shadow Dance?" Cassie wondered aloud, causing everyone's eye to glint.

Daeron nodded,

"It does seem like a large part of his battle art, and quite admirable at that, it seems to have no foundation or solid form"

"Quite contradictory for a Shadow!" Noctis laughed in amusement, as some rolled their eyes in annoyance.

Daeron's gaze narrowed as he looked at the ongoing fight, finally continuing.

"But....it's strange"

"Not once has he used one of his avatars" he murmured.

People shifted, as they gazed back to the scene, their eyes narrowing.

He was right, not once had Sunny yet used his avatars in the fight, one with a Sacred being at that.

"Does he want a challenge? I didn't think of him to be one with a passion for the honor in battle..." she cooed in amusement.

Everyone looked around for answers, but there were none. The curiosity was fleeting as a rumble shook the surroundings, causing some to stumble. Gazes swept around the area in confusion as eyes widened.

This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

Was the mountain....moving?

He evaded a vicious stab, only to receive a devastating kick and stagger back. Ignoring the sharp pain in his bruised ribs, he immediately moved, deflecting a slash that would have sliced his throat open otherwise.

By then, an obsidian blade was already flying at his right eye, and as he tilted his head to avoid it, a knee slammed into his abdomen, making him let out a hiss. The mysterious shadow was like a dancer that could use all of its nebulous body as a weapon, making no distinction between its blades, fists, elbows, knees, or feet.

Each precise blow was either potentially fatal or meant to open him to a deadly follow-up attack, flowing effortlessly into each other, and with the ghostly smoke obscuring its movements, Sunny could not allow his focus to slip even for an instant. The rain of attacks persisted without a split second of respite, all of them chained together like a ruthless, suffocating vice.No matter how much Sunny resisted, he could not gain the initiative — he could only defend himself feverishly, barely keeping up with the lethal onslaught.

Wounds and bruises slowly littered his body. His armor was cut like paper, and his bones groaned under unbearable strain, on the verge of cracking. He was not bleeding, at least, but his two remaining shadows hands had long been sacrificed. Now, even his own hands were at risk of being maimed.

'Aaah...'

Dodging another blow, he growled and lunged forward, meaning to ram the mysterious archer with his armored shoulder. However, the enemy simply retreated like mist, then instantly counterattacked, nearly driving one of their knives into Sunny's temple.

They clashed like two dark whirlwinds, moving across the shoulder of the shadow of Condemnation as it took another titanic step. The radiant veil of swirling essence was torn apart by the fury of their battle, and they were enveloped by soothing darkness once again.

The thunderous cacophony tore apart the eternal silence that reigned the Shadow Realm, and the black sky shook from the terrifying power of their blows.

"G-Gods...the mountain...i-it's a whole freaking Nightmare Creature!" Rain yelped in disbelief.

"Prince of the Sun?" Solvanne muttered in thought.

Everyone sat themselves down as the mountain continued to shift, causing slight tremors in the room. Indeed, it seemed like all shadows carried some hidden madness, as they were viciously clashing despite being on a living Nightmare creature, one as big as a mountain no less.

As their gazes steadied, features of the mountain started to become discernible, first the shoulder, then the head and soon the overall upper torso. Unbelievably, it was in fact alive....and moving.

Had Fate brought their fight on top of such a Nightmare Creature?

Or did they simply love to perform to the unseen crowd? Because at this point, it wouldn't be surprising if the mountain-creature itself started slow-clapping in appreciation. But it didn't as it was seemingly devoid of consciousness, like a broken robot with one final command burning in its mind.

Whether the nebulous archer possessed a soul core or not, they were still a shadow. That was how they had been able to survive in the Shadow Realm, and why they were hunting the shadows of living beings for sustenance. That was also the reason why this cold and ruthless slayer could influence the wild shadows populating the desolate land, so much so that they were even scared to answer Sunny's call.

However... Since the archer could interfere with Sunny in that way, didn't that mean that Sunny could do the same?

After all, the archer was a shadow. And Sunny was the Lord of Shadows. He held dominion over everything that was a shadow, whether they liked it or not. If Sunny so wished, he could control and manipulate shadows, manifest them into tangible forms, or even send them into the Shadow Realm and back.

Granted, his authority was not absolute. Although few shadows had attempted it yet, the vastest and most ancient of them could resist his will and refuse his commands... like the Fragment of the Shadow Realm did, for example. More importantly, there was one exception to his ability to command the shadows. No matter how weak, Sunny could neither control nor manifest the shadows of living beings — their loyalty was to their masters, and no matter how revered the Lord of Shadows was by them, that reverence did not trump that loyalty.

However... The mysterious archer was not a shadow cast by a living being. They might have been once, but now, they were cast by nothing and belonged to nothing. They were alone and ownerless, without a master...

It is improper for a shadow, let alone such a murderous one, to walk around without a master. Not the least of all because an unscrupulous Lord of Shadows might happen to pass by and try to exploit that defect.

So... While suffering under the chillingly lethal barrage of insidious attacks and at the same time wrestling the cold will of the rebellious shadow,Sunny focused his own will into a sharp blade and added another command to his call. That one was addressed directly to the damned archer and consisted of only one word: "Halt."

The archer suddenly shuddered.

And because they shuddered, Sunny easily pushed aside the obsidian knife and plunged the splinter of the ivory fang into the enemy's side. A moment later, the archer punched him in the face, shattering the damaged visor of the onyx helmet and making Sunny see stars. They struck down with the bone knife, slicing through the splinter of the ancient fang, and disengaged. A moment later, the archer landed gracefully on the glossy stone a few dozen meters away and pressed one hand against their side, hunching a little.

Sunny was pretty sure that being pierced by a fang of an ancient Soul Serpent was quite harmful, even for a relentless death machine like this damned maniac. He dismissed his broken helmet and laughed.

"...Two can play this game, you know?"

Before, the archer had interfered with his limbs. Now, Sunny was interfering with the archer. Of course, the nebulous slayer did not halt as commanded. However, their movements appeared somewhat constrained, sapped of some speed and power. Just enough to even the playing field in this battle. Taking a step forward, Sunny ignited his will and battered the archer with a barrage of irresistible commands.

'Halt!'

'Move!

' 'Kneel!'

'Surrender!'

'Beg!'

'...Die!'

Every watched the whole ordeal with a mixture of confusion and awe, Nephis especially who had once again entered a tunnel vision like trance. Not even Effie who was taunting her about some strange, kink, in the corner of her ear, could falter her attention

Because she could tell that this was a missing piece she needed.

A piece she needed to ascend to Supremacy.

She had a foundation, she had a Citadel, she was only missing a few more pieces to unlock the final steps. And this seemed to be one of them.

She didn't understand it fully—no, not yet—but she could grasp the shape of it. Supremes were beings who imposed their will upon reality, who ruled within the dominion they had carved out for themselves. And Sunny... Sunny was fighting within a domain.

A domain of shadows.

Something elusive, always hidden in the dark... but now, for the first time, being laid bare before them. For her. For the others. A secret unveiled.

Well, maybe not for Daeron. He probably knew already.

Slowly, she turned her gaze to Noctis. The ancient sorcerer felt her stare and smirked, one brow arched in amusement.

"What?" he drawled. "You think just because I'm old, I know everything?"

Nephis said nothing.

His smirk widened.

"Well..." He leaned back with a satisfied nod. "You're right. I do know quite a lot."

"But in the realm of Supremes, even I am in the dark," Noctis admitted with an uncharacteristic sigh, the weight of his own limitations pressing down on him.

"Why would it have to be shadows? Is every Supreme Sunny now?" he scoffed, his tone dripping with amusement.

Gilead stiffened ever so slightly, but the corner of Jest's mouth twitched before he quickly covered it with his hand, barely suppressing a laugh.

"As one ascends, battle ceases to be mere combat. It becomes a test of will. A struggle to see whose desire is more absolute, whose existence is more tyrannical. It is not just strength, not just power—but the sheer, unrelenting force of one's being. To fight at this level is to impose oneself upon the world, to devour the will of another and climb higher still."

A heavy silence followed his words, but Tyris broke it with a cold, matter-of-fact remark.

"But he is not Supreme."

Noctis turned to her, expression mirroring her own confusion. Before he could respond, Daeron spoke.

"But he can be." His voice was quiet, yet it cut through the tension like a blade. "And he will be. And when that time comes... no one will stand against him."

All eyes shifted toward Daeron, hunger burning in their gazes. They wanted more. They needed more. The secrets of Supremacy were being laid bare—if only he would continue.

But he did not.

He remained still, his stare unwavering, betraying nothing.

Yet, even in his silence, he had already revealed enough.

A truth had been exposed—one that the Saints absorbed with quiet reverence. Supreme combat was not just a clash of bodies, weapons, or techniques. It was a war of wills.

Had Daeron shared this insight out of some growing fondness for their company? Or was it a calculated move, a subtle ploy to weave favor into his hands?

The answer remained unclear.

But the truth did not.

And as the battle raged on, its significance became undeniable.

Rain and Ling were the only two blissfully out of the loop, absorbing the cool-sounding statement without a care. At first, Rain had been in deep denial about her Master's achievements. Then came the awe. And now? Now, she had fully embraced it—proud, smug, and acting as if every one of his accomplishments were somehow a family group project.

She cast a sideways glance at Telle and Windflower, who were still casually munching on popcorn like this was just another Saturday night entertainment special. A smirk crept onto her face.

"Royalty? Legacy? Who cares about all that!" she muttered, basking in her newfound superiority. "My family knows the secrets of the world, Daemons are basically our cousins, and 'we' broke Fate!"

She almost wanted to throw her head back and laugh like a proper aristocrat—but then the words actually settled in.

Daemons... broke Fate...

Her smirk faltered. A thought hit her like a particularly aggressive reality check.

"Wait... doesn't that make us the villains?" she mumbled, suddenly uncertain.

A tiny bit panicked, she glanced around, half-expecting judgmental stares or someone to throw a tomato at her. But no one seemed bothered. No accusations. No torches or pitchforks.

Just Mordret.

Mordret, sitting there like the most dedicated viewer of this unfolding drama, his expression full of amusement as if he had just watched his favorite character undergo a villain origin realization in real-time.

Rain scowled and sank back into her seat, sulking.

Out of everyone, he was the last person she wanted as a fan of her brother.

But the mysterious shadow did resist them, hunching some more and remaining silent. Their slender fingers, nevertheless, dug into the wound, grasping the broken splinter of the ivory fang and pulling it free. A trickle of ghostly smoke flowed out of the wound, mixing with their billowing veil.

'Still ready to fight, then.' Sunny grinned.

Well, it was only to be expected. He had never expected that his little trick would bring this ruthless slayer to their knees. It was just something to weigh them down and let Sunny himself deliver the fatal blow.

"What are you waiting for? Let's go, little shadow. I'm just getting warmed up." The archer stared at him for a few moments silently... at least Sunny thought that he was being stared at.

He could not see their face, after all.

Then, in an explosion of swift, purposeful motion...

The archer turned around, fluidly grabbed their discarded bow and dashed away, sliding over the edge of the obsidian island a moment later. Falling into the depths of the shadow of Condemnation. Sunny froze for a moment.

He blinked.

'Huh?'

Had he actually scared that damned killer so much?

'No, impossible...'

Then... His eyes widened a little. Did the bastard decide to go for the kill first, and deal with Sunny later? If so, he had to follow immediately!

Yet...

Somehow, Sunny did not feel like submerging into the nebulous body of the shadow of Condemnation was safe. In fact, everything inside him screamed against it, as if what awaited him inside was a fate far worse than death. It would be the same for the archer. Then what was Sunny missing?

Suddenly, a cold chill ran down his spine, and a bad premonition made him shiver. With no helmet to shield his head, he realized quite quickly what it was that he had missed. Because his hair was fluttering wildly in the wind.

The wind... the wind had grown much stronger.

People stirred in their seats as the approaching construct took shape, its sheer presence sending a ripple of unease through the audience.

Sunny had shattered Fate itself—rewritten the rules, broken free from its chains. And yet... somehow, Fate still seemed to have a personal grudge against him. If anything, it almost felt vindictive.

Some watched with eager anticipation, eager to see how he would overcome yet another impossible trial. Others sat frozen in silent dread, knowing all too well that this time, the stakes were even higher.

Effie let out a long, dramatic sigh. "Princess... if existence loves you, then it must absolutely loathe your boyfriend."

Rain clasped her hands together as if in prayer. "Please be safe, Master..."

Julius, ever the scholar, looked torn between terror and excitement. "Fascinating! Mortifying, but fascinating!"

Saint Cor simply shook his head, muttering, "Unfortunate wretch..."

And unfortunate Sunny was. Because barreling toward him—howling, roaring, devouring everything in its wake....

Was a maelstrom of white light and destruction.

A violent vortex of pure annihilation, twisting and spiraling, swallowing the landscape whole. The sheer force of it distorted the air, warping reality itself as it raced straight for him.

Sunny stood there, momentarily still. The audience, too, sat in stunned silence, eyes locked on the unfolding disaster.

And in that single, fleeting moment...

A thought surfaced in his mind, so dry and resigned it was almost cruel in its simplicity:

"Wow... I'm screwed, aren't I?"