Shadow Slave

Chapter 1986  Baiting the Monster  , 1987  Siege of Bastion

Morgan sighed as she saw the water break in a dozen places, far in the distance, and grotesque tentacles shoot from the depths. Carried in them were the massive corpses of the Nightmare Creatures that dwelled in the forest — some of them the very same Nightmare Creatures whom she and her Saints had wounded, but failed to finish off in yesterday's battle. The corpses were launched into the air like morbid projectiles, tracing low arcs as they trailed torrents of blood behind them. One was shot down by Nightingale, who had drawn his bow in the blink of an eye. Another exploded into a cloud of bloody haze when a pebble tossed casually by Raised by Wolves collided with it midair.

But the rest landed on the rubble with disgusting squelching noises, some crashing into the wall and making it tremble with deafening thunderclaps.

A series of shockwaves rolled across the lake, making the water ripple. Morgan studied the bloody mess left in the wake of the obliterated corpses with a dubious expression. "Leave it to my brother to find a common language with the Nightmare Creatures…"

The effects of this spectacular blood offering were already letting themselves be known. The lake boiled, and dozens of hideous shapes rose from its dark depths, following the scent of blood…

Following it to the shore. It seemed that the Prince of Nothing had finally found a way to attack the ruined fortress with both Transcendent and Corrupted forces at the same time. Grimacing, Morgan summoned a bow and shouted a command:

"Aether, Athena! Let loose!"n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

As they heeded her command, she briefly glanced at the bow in her hand.

This one, she had received in her Third Nightmare. It was a good bow, but she still missed her old one… the bow that her father had forged for her. It was not the only Memory he had given her, and Morgan had never cherished the Warbow that much — she was primarily a swordsman, after all. Still, it had been a loyal companion to her for quite some time. Strangely enough, Morgan did not remember what fate befell that Memory. Had it been destroyed in Antarctica? Or had she simply returned it to the arsenal of Clan Valor after Transcending, knowing that an Ascended Memory would not be worthy of her strength anymore? She seemed to have a vague recollection of bestowing it upon someone… interesting. And cute? One of the promising Knights, perhaps...

She couldn't remember. 'What was I thinking about?'

Suspecting that she had not gotten enough sleep, Morgan summoned an arrow and nocked it on the string. Below the wall, Aether and Athena were starting. The Saint of Night was standing on the surface of the water, not far from the shore, bathed in moonlight. Above him, distant stars shimmered with a silver radiance.

And as the waters of the lake suddenly rippled all around him, that radiance suddenly grew brighter. Morgan could not see Aether's eyes, but if she could, she would have witnessed them shining with cold silver light.

In the next moment, the sharp rays of starlight seemed to solidify, raining on the lake like a radiant net. The depth dwellers that had risen their hideous heads above the water were cut terribly by the falling strings of light, letting out pained wails as their fetid blood poured into the lake.

Some received only shallow wounds, some were hurt quite badly. One lake monster had even lost much of its head — it was still alive, but the other abominations were already rushing in its direction. Soon, the water boiled, and the wounded abomination was torn apart by its own brethren. There was no honor among the Nightmare Creatures. Athena was less flashy in her attack, but even more devastating. Looking around, she chose a slab of stone the size of a PTV, picked it up easily, and tossed it in the direction of the attacking abomination with terrifying force. The giant piece of stone tore through the air with dire speed and fell into the lake like a bomb, causing a tall fountain of foam to shoot into the sky. Although it was quite dark, Morgan could tell that the foam was not white, but crimson — Athena rarely missed, so her crude projectile must have obliterated at least one enormous abomination completely. A moment later, her own arrow found its way between the scales of an especially revolting Nightmare Creature, exploding from the back of its misshapen head in a torrent of gore. Nightingale was releasing another arrow, as well — having the advantage of a high vantage point, he was even more deadly. Morgan was not usually competitive without reason, but falling behind her subordinate was a shameful thing. Smiling faintly, she strained her muscles and drew the heavy bow again. In the next minute or so, both the surface and the depths of the lake had turned into a scene of bloody slaughter, with a storm of starlight raging across it like a beautiful mirage. The Nightmare Creatures stirred awake by the scent of blood were all powerful, the weakest of them of the Corrupted Rank. And yet, the Saints defending Bastion were not weak, either. Aether's starlight, Athena's barbaric projectiles, and the arrows sent flying by Morgan and Kai fused into a devastating barrage, mangling the bodies of the abominations and reaping their lives. Sadly, it was not as deadly as she would have wanted. Killing a Great Abomination was no easy feat even for Saints, after all — several of them had to concentrate their attacks on the more powerful dwellers of the depths and waste quite a bit of time to bring a single one down, while the rest were free to reduce the distance between them and the shore unopposed. Which was a cause for concern.

And throughout all of it, even consumed by the thrill of the battle, Morgan was keeping an eye on the lake and the dark shore beyond. She could not miss the moment her brother decided to join the battle. '...Where are you?'

Frowning a little, Morgan lowered her bow for a moment and bellowed:

"Aether! Retreat!"

She was disappointed. She had hoped that using their only healer as bait would produce more of a result. The Nightmare Creatures were already dangerously close to where the Saint of Night was standing on water. Sparing one look at the approaching horrors, he turned around and dashed back toward the ruins. Athena covered his retreat by sending an especially enormous piece of rubble barreling through the air. It displaced a veritable flood of water, causing towering waves to spread in all directions from the point of impact. And when the plume of foaming water fell down, Morgan finally saw what she had been searching for. Behind it, in the distance, a gargantuan fin rose above the surface of the lake, cutting it like a colossal blade. Typhaon was coming.

…Or rather, her brother was, wearing the once-fearsome Saint as a suit. 

1987  Siege of Bastion

The Nightmare Creatures had reached the shore, crawling out of the surging lake like a swarm of horrors that had escaped the forbidden depths of Pandora's box. In the darkness of the night, their wet, slithering figures glistened with the ghostly radiance of reflected moonlight. Enormous limbs rose high into the air and plummeted down, making the ruin shake as they sank into the rubble to pull the monstrous bodies onto land.
This time, of course, it was not Pandora who had opened the mystical box out of curiosity. 
Instead, Morgan's monstrous brother had done it out of malice.
Still, she wasn't too concerned.
…If these poor creatures had known any better, they would have stayed in the depths. They would have guessed that the box had not been locked to contain the horrors inside — instead, it had been locked to protect them from the true monsters that dwelled beyond. 
Witnessing the chilling tide of abominations, Soul Reaper smiled.
"I guess it's my turn."
She did not seem particularly impressed by the sheer dread and splendor of the chilling scene. The blue-eyed wraith remained calm and laid-back, as if facing a swarm of Great and Corrupted abominations was not a death sentence for most Saints.
Then again, this Saint in particular had long proven that death was afraid of her, and not the other way around.
Morgan gave her a brief look.
"Lure them into the ruins."
Jet raised an eyebrow, amused. 
"They'll topple the wall."
Morgan looked at the crumbling wall they were standing on. This great fortress — what remained of it — was her ancestral home. Three generations of the Valor family had dwelled here, and it was from these ruins that the glorious Sword Domain was born. 
She shrugged impassively. 
"Let them topple it, then." 
Her brother was determined to stop at nothing to destroy Valor. There was no step he would hesitate to take, and no sacrifice he was unwilling to make. 
That was how one won a war. 
Her brother was determined to stop at nothing to destroy Valor. There was no step he would hesitate to take, and no sacrifice he was unwilling to make. 
That was how one won a war. 
And Morgan... Morgan was the Princess of War. She was prepared to sacrifice the entire world if it meant achieving victory, let alone these ancient walls.
Soul Reaper smiled crookedly, then picked up her war scythe, raised it above her shoulder… and tossed it forward with tremendous force, as if throwing a javelin. 
At the same time, her body turned into a torrent of mist and swirled around the scythe, being carried away from the safety of the fortress by its pull.
Far below, Aether had reached Athena's position and dashed past her, rushing back toward the wall. Raised By Wolves herself lingered, summoning a long spear and looking at the approaching tide of abominations with a grim expression.
It was then that the ghostly war scythe landed among the Nightmare Creatures. Suddenly, a chilling mist exploded from it in all directions, obscuring the view. 
A moment later, haunting wails resounded from within the veil of mist, echoing across the restless lake. 
Morgan had no time to pay attention to that part of the battlefield anymore. The Nightmare Creatures, calamitous as they were — just a couple of them could have destroyed all of humanity a few decades ago — were merely a diversion today. 
The true threat was her brother. 
"Athena, retreat!"
Below the wall, Raised by Wolves stared at the cloud of mist with a complicated expression, then gritted her teeth and dashed back. 
Morgan could see Tyhaon's fin towering above the surface of the lake as it cut the surging water. Her brother was moving around the ruins, threatening to attack them from the east. 
At the same time, a vast swathe of the lake west of the crumbling castle boiled, revealing glimpses of gargantuan tentacles and an abominable body surfacing from the depths. 
There were more Transcendent vessels advancing from the south, as well. 
Morgan scowled for a moment, calculating the timing. 
'...He got me good, this time.'
Her vermilion eyes glistened in the darkness. 
Despite the head start, Aether reached the battlements at the same time as Athena. Morgan studied them for a moment, then spoke evenly:
"Nightingale… intercept Knossos and his retinue, if you will. Athena, stall Typhaon for as long as you can."
After Soul Reaper, these two were her strongest champions. In fact, they were no weaker than the former pillars of the House of Night, Typhaon and Knossos, had been — despite being decades younger and far less experienced. Morgan even suspected that they would have slain the legendary Saints in battle, if given the chance to face them one-on-one. 
Sadly, the two Stormsea Saints were dead, and it was Mordret controlling their bodies now. Not only was her brother fearsome, but he was also shrewd and cunning, never letting his most powerful vessels face her best warriors without an advantage. 
So, she could only hope to stall them today. 
Athena sighed, then dismissed her spear and crouched. A moment later, the crumbling wall shook, and the stones under her feet cracked — the beautiful Saint soared into the air in a stunning leap, seemingly flying toward the swiftly approaching fin.
As she flew, her body, which seemed to be cast of polished steel, expanded in size. 
By the time Raised by Wolves landed in the water, she was a steel colossus at least a hundred meters in height. A great wave rose from her plunge into the lake, and a deafening thunderclap rolled across the lake, making the trees on the distant shore sway. 
She was standing far away from the ruined fortress, and yet, the water barely reached her things. 
The lake was deep enough to swallow even a giant like Athena, but she had chosen her battlefield carefully — there, the water was deep enough to lure Tyhaon to come, but not so deep as to leave her no fighting chance. 
Of course, she could have fought him at the bottom of the lake, if she so wished. Saints could hold their breath for a long time, after all — however, fighting a Transcendent of the House of Night in the depths was something that only people with a death wish would do. 
…Almost at the same time, a graceful figure dashed across the black sky, rushing west. 
Nightingale assumed his Transcendent form as he flew, and soon, moonlight glistened on the beautiful scales of a majestic dragon. His great body was dark like the night sky, and his eyes were like silver stars. The vast shadow of his wings covered the tall waves, raising up a hurricane. 
Morgan sighed. 
The three government Saints were each handling an overwhelming foe. 
But it was up to her and the Saints of Night to face the most dreadful adversary.