Sunny stared at the Gate, momentarily paralyzed by dread. Then, he snapped out of it and fought through exhaustion, rushing to kill as many abominations as he could before the Guardian came out of the Gate.
He had an inkling that after, there would not be an opportunity to pay them any attention.
‘Is… is it the Guardian? How many minutes has it been?’
He had no idea. Somewhere along the way, Sunny had lost count of the time. All he knew was that it had not been long enough…
Meanwhile, a hulking figure emerged from the darkness of the Gate, and as it did, the red flames burning in the empty eye sockets of the ancient wraiths flashed brighter, their dead mouths opening to produce a litany of menacing howls.
‘C—crap…’
The Guardian was more than four meters tall, his desiccated body resembling that of the primeval hunters and demons Sunny had fought, but at the same time much more frightening. He wielded a long spear, its blade cut out of a single slab of obsidian and covered in so many stains of ancient, dried blood that it seemed as if the stone itself had absorbed them and turned dark red.
The giant was wearing an intricate leather armor, much more robust and imposing than those of the lesser wraiths, with strips of strange, bluish iron woven onto it. His wrists bore dozens of bracelets made out of iron and bone, and on his shoulders was a cloak fashioned out of the hide of some terrifying monster.
The skull of the creature served as his helm, and his face was covered by a disturbing burial mask, its features twisted and bestial.
The mask — and the skull on his head — each had three eyes, all six emanating intense, malevolent red radiance.
Sunny felt a cold shiver run down his spine.
‘What… what is that thing…’
He didn’t know what kind of a creature the ancient chieftain was, but had no doubts that he was a Fallen Tyrant… and a very powerful one, at that. Maybe the barrow these wraiths were coming from had been built to entomb this ancient menace, to begin with.
And his mask had three eyes.
…Anything with three eyes made Sunny shudder, for reasons he did not fully understand. After the Forgotten Shore, he knew that this was a sign of something too terrible for him to know.
Could he kill a Fallen Tyrant?
Maybe if he had a lot of time to prepare and study his enemy, and attacked from the shadow.
But now, with Sunny exhausted and battered, his shadow essence running out, and hundreds of Nightmare Creatures surrounding their master in bloodthirsty exaltation, he stood no chance. None at all.
Well… maybe a very tiny one.
And what else was he going to do other than try and fight, put his tail between his legs and run away?
Well… sure! Why the hell not? Sunny was not some kind of a hero, nor had he ever wanted to be one.
…But he wasn’t going to run away just yet.
As the Nightmare Creatures renewed their assault with even more frenzied rage than before, he gritted his teeth and brandished the obsidian spear, feeling the primal battle style of the ancient wraiths seep into his very bones.
Sunny was not done spilling blood…
He had a little bit of fight left in him, still.
***
In the gymnasium, silence and fear gave way to mayhem and panic.
The walls of the school had been breached, and Nightmare Creatures crawled inside, madness burning in their terrifying empty eyes.
“Back! Get back!”
The children were pushed against one of the walls, teachers standing between them and the terrible monsters with mundane weapons in their trembling hands.
The Awakened were engaged in a ferocious battle, but just the five of them were not nearly enough to stop all the abominations. It was inevitable that sooner or later, some of the abominations were bound to get through.
And soon, they did.
A giant, harrowing beast that resembled an infernal wolf, jagged red spikes growing through its black flesh and drops of saliva falling from its maw, tore free of the battle and lunged at the children.
Rain had never seen something so unstoppable.
How was anyone supposed to fight such a thing? No human possibly could…
The teachers tried, however.
Several of them drew their bows, but the arrows simply slid off the mottled black fur of the hellhound. The headmaster tried to stop the creature with a heavy pike, but was simply thrown away, the weapon flying out of his hands.
And then, there was no one else standing between the monster and the defenseless children.
***
‘God… goddamit…’
Sunny was at the end of his rope. Which, in a sense, was precisely where he wanted to be.
He wasn’t trying to stop the flood of Nightmare Creatures by killing all of them anymore. That was simply impossible, with how many there were, and how many were coming from the Gate every second.
He was, however, trying to draw as much attention as he could.
All of the attention, really.
And to accomplish that, he had to do one simple thing.
He had to attack the Tyrant.
How hard could it be?
‘Let’s find out…’
Sunny wasn’t planning to get into a prolonged fight with the damn Barrow Chieftain, or whatever that thing was called. He was just going to exchange one… maybe two strikes with the scary bastard, hopefully deal him a tiny wound, and Shadow Step into safety.
Enough was enough…
He knew his limits.
Tearing through the mass of abominations, Sunny cut a bloody path toward the hulking tyrant, and finally appeared in front of him.
As soon as the burial mask with three burning red eyes turned his way, Sunny suddenly felt small and weak. The pain he felt in his battered body surged, and an involuntary groan escape from his lips.
He just wanted to stop and fall to the ground.
To kneel…
‘Argh… a mind attack?! What, is that all?! Bastard, you should have met Gunlaug… learned how to really make people cower…’
And also, his own mask was much scarier than the crude thing covering the tyrant’s face.
Fighting through the oppressive hex, Sunny lunged forward and raised his bloodied spear.
He didn’t get a chance to attack, though.
Although it didn’t seem as if the Tyrant of the Barrow was moving with haste, his hand shot toward Sunny with such terrifying speed that he barely had time to react. The giant didn’t even deem it necessary to use a weapon, intending to crush him with a fist.
Making the Mantle of the Underworld as heavy as he could, Sunny turned the shaft of the spear around and held it with both hands, knowing to deflect the blow instead of blocking it.
He should have been able to…
The fist of the desiccated giant connected with the ancient spear…
…And easily shattered it, as though it was a mundane stick and not a Memory of the Ascended Rank.
Before Sunny could even feel the terrible impact reverberate through his bones, five massive fingers closed around his torso like a steel bear trap.
And squeezed.
‘C—crap!’
[Your Memory has been destroyed.]
What a shame… he didn’t even get a chance to learn what it was called…
The stonelike metal of the Mantle of the Underworld groaned, but held.
His bones, reinforced by the steadfast temperance of the Bone Weave, held too.
Not that Sunny was having a good time. It felt as though he was being slowly crushed to death, unable to draw in a single breath. It hurt as hell, too… much worse than that, actually…
But worse still, while the tyrant had him in his grip, he couldn’t use Shadow Step.
He couldn’t escape.
‘I… I think… I messed up…’
As Sunny struggled in the tyrant’s iron grip, the giant tilted his head a little, and easily lifted him off the ground, bringing his prey closer to the three burning red eyes.
