Shadow Slave: A Supreme Bond (Sunphis Wedding One-Shot)

Morgan slashed down the incoming projectile aimed at her heart, then immediately lunged toward the shadows where the creature had fired from—only for it to vanish once again.

She clicked her tongue.

"This damn thing is slippery."

Slash. Slash. Slash.

With each strike, the projectiles became faster, sharper, deadlier. At first, they seemed random—too random. But after deflecting a hundred, she noticed a bias. By the three-hundredth, a pattern. By the thousandth, she could almost grasp it.

Then—

A glint of motion. A shift in the dark. Morgan turned just in time, her blade intercepting a needle-thin projectile meant for her throat.

She exhaled sharply, muscles tensed.

The worst part about these projectiles was that she couldn't even absorb them. Even in her transformed state, the projectiles cut through her like solid steel. Her transformation ability, her greatest weapon, was all but useless here. Heightened durability was all it offered, but if she turned to liquid...

She would be handing the creature an advantage, more leverage to strike her.

No choice, then. She had to stay human. Stay solid.

Another shift in the dark.

Morgan's grip tightened.

She braced herself.

The impact sent a shudder through her arm.

She drew a breath, pressing a hand to her neck. This was close.

Too close.

But it couldn't be helped. She had needed to take this risk, to bait the creature into making a mistake of its own. Just one. That was all she needed.

And then—

A suffocating force crashed down from above.

A pressure so sickening, so immense, it made the very air tremble. The weight of numerous Cursed existences pressed against her soul, distorting the world itself.

Morgan grit her teeth.

"So, the Cursed creatures are finally here."

Ordinary Saints would falter under this weight. Their bodies would slow. Their thoughts would lag. Their instincts would dull.

But Morgan was different.

She could fight even under this hellish pressure. She had to.

She had to kill this damn Devil and bring honor to her clan. She was the only one who could. It was her duty. And she would see it through, no matter what.

"Now, where are you—ah—"

A sharp sting erupted across her cheek.

Blood dripped.

Morgan's eyes flicked to the wound just as the air around it sizzled with a sickly purple glow.

Poison.

Immediately, she dug her nails into the wound, ripping it open to bleed out the venom before it could seep into her system. She was fast—damn fast—but not fast enough to prevent a tiny amount from slipping in.

A dull, burning sensation spread through her veins.

"Tch. This is going to hurt."

There was no doubt the poison was lethal. Fortunately, she had only taken in a trace amount—nowhere near enough to kill her immediately.

But that was just one of the many projectiles raining down on her.

Slash. Slash. Slash.

She cut each one from the air in a seamless blur of movement, but the weight of the Cursed will around her was taking its toll.

Her limbs felt heavier. Her movements were slower.

It wouldn't be long before she made her first mistake. She couldn't make another after that, not when she herself had forbidden her knights from making more than one.

But the situation was bad. Very bad.

Originally, she was supposed to face this Devil alongside two other Saints. But with the unexpected increase in Nightmare Creatures, she had been forced to fight it alone.

Another projectile whistled past her head, shearing off a lock of her hair. Morgan watched as the strands melted midair, hissing as they disintegrated on contact with the poison.

Without hesitation, she grabbed her remaining hair and chopped off the tainted ends.

Too close. Again.

Another projectile came, and this time, she wasn't fast enough.

It struck her blade at a wrong angle, knocking her off balance, sending her tumbling backward. Her back slammed into a twisted, bone-white root.

And then—

A shadow loomed over her.

For the first time, the Great Devil revealed itself.

A monstrous grin stretched across its grotesque face, jagged and cruel, its eyes gleaming with the sick delight of a predator toying with its prey.

It had cornered her. And it knew it.

"You wretched bastard!" Morgan snarled, forcing herself up, her sword trembling in her grip.

The Devil raised its arms. A dozen projectiles coalesced in the air, aimed directly at her, promising death from every angle.

Morgan's breath came fast. Her vision swam. The Cursed wills pressing down on her made it almost impossible to move.

She was too slow.

And if she didn't act now— this would result in her first fatal mistake.

The projectiles streaked toward her like a death sentence.

Then, suddenly, the crushing weight of the Cursed wills, the suffocating pressure that had made her sluggish, that had gnawed at her very soul—was suddenly lifted.

In its place, a rush of energy surged through her body.

Her wounds no longer ached. Her strength felt restored, as though the very exhaustion had been erased. The poison lurking in her veins—raring to corrode her from within—was burned away, leaving her feeling rejuvenated.

"Huh?"

There was no time to question it.

The Great Devil's projectiles streaked toward her, and with a single swift motion, she knocked them aside—effortlessly.

Across from her, the monstrous creature grimaced.

Then, in an instant, it darted backward, vanishing into the shadows with its usual blinding speed.

But this time—

Morgan's eyes tracked it.

For the first time, she saw it move. Its form wasn't a blur. Its movements weren't impossibly fast. Instead, it was slower. Sluggish. As though something was dragging it down.

She frowned.

"What...?"

Then, she noticed.

The ground beneath her had darkened, swallowed whole, as if reality itself was being devoured by shadows.

Her gaze flickered toward the center of the battlefield—toward where the Sovereigns were fighting the Cursed abominations.

Realization dawned.

A slow smile crept onto her lips.

"So this... is Sovereign Sunless's domain in its full power."

Not only was it pushing back against the twisted wills of the Cursed ones—it was suppressing them. Weakening them.

A domain powerful enough to contest the deranged will of those abominations. Truly, what a magnificent domain.

But something was still... off.

Morgan narrowed her eyes.

"Since when did his domain have... healing effects?"

His power was death. Shadows. A force that consumed. This—this revitalization—shouldn't have been possible.

She shook her head, gaze flickering toward Nephis.

"Isn't that my sister's domain?"

But Nephis hadn't unleashed her power—not in the way Morgan knew. And yet, the battlefield bore unmistakable signs of it. Not just death and darkness, but the undeniable force of renewal, rejuvenation and radiance.

It was almost as if the two domains had... intertwined.

Morgan's breath hitched.

"No."

That should be impossible.

Such a thing would mean rewriting the very laws of nature.

No matter how powerful Sunny and Nephis were, they were still Sovereigns. Not Gods.

They couldn't create this kind of miracle.

Could they?

Morgan palmed her forehead.

The very fact that they were standing here—instead of her late father and Ki Song—was already a miracle in itself.

And it wasn't the first one.

Sunny and Nephis had been creating miracles all their lives.

Morgan let out a low chuckle.

"Crazy. This is crazy."

A part of her still refused to believe it. But the battlefield did not lie.

She shoved the thoughts away. There was still a fight to finish.

Even weakened, a Great Devil was not an opponent she could kill alone. Her task was to engage, to stall—to hold the creature down until her knights or the Government Saints had finished their battles and could aid her.

That was the expectation.

But now—

Now, Morgan was no longer bound by expectations. Now, she had to surpass them. She took a steady breath, gripping her sword tighter.

Now, she had to create a miracle of her own.