Escape And Truth

Night Temple

Sunny was in real trouble.

The Lost Prince was every bit as terrifying as his title suggested, a living storm of destruction. And now, as if fate hadn't already stacked the odds against him, Mordret had taken over the body of Master Welthe. A Master. Sunny was still just an Awakened. The difference in power was staggering.

Every strike Mordret delivered was calculated, precise, and devastating. Each carried the strength of a Master, and Sunny barely managed to avoid them, his body burning with exhaustion. He wasn't just fighting—he was struggling to survive.

Their plan had failed. The box meant to trap Mordret was useless. Cassia was in danger. And worse, Sunny couldn't even meet Mordret's gaze—doing so would be a death sentence, an invitation for Mordret to invade his soul sea and take over his body just like he did with Welthe.

Even with the Quiet Dancer joining the fray, their odds hadn't improved.

Sunny's mind raced, desperate for a way out. Some trick, some gambit, anything that could shift the tide in his favor. But no matter how hard he thought, nothing seemed enough.

This was hopeless.

A creeping fear slithered into his heart, coiling around his resolve. But he pushed it aside, clenched his teeth, and fought on, wielding every ounce of his cunning and will.

And then, Cassia's voice rang through the chaos:

"Open your eyes!"

Sunny froze. A surge of déjà vu struck him like a hammer. Memories of the Forgotten Shore surfaced—the Abomination, its horrid voice screaming at him to open his eyes. A shiver ran down his spine. He barely dodged another attack, staggering back, blood dripping from his wounds. At least bleeding out wasn't an issue for him.

"Open your eyes! Open them, Sunny!"

Cassia was screaming now. Was she insane? Did she want him to die?

Sunny cursed under his breath. Everything in his nature screamed against it, but he forced himself to obey. He opened his eyes—and then, darkness.

When Sunny regained awareness, he wasn't in the Night Temple anymore.

He was in his soul sea.

This was wrong. Normally, entering the Soul Sea felt like splitting his consciousness—he could perceive both it and the real world at the same time. But now, there was nothing outside. No connection to his body, no sense of the battle. Only the abyss.

Something was different.

The three black suns still burned with cold, dark flames. The corpses of countless dead Abominations still floated motionless in the abyss. But there was something else. Someone else.

A voice, smooth and amused, echoed through the void.

"What a bizarre soul you have, Sunless..."

Mordret stood there, gazing at the endless darkness with a curious smile.

He was tall and slender, with raven-black hair and pale skin. His sharp, thin face wasn't traditionally handsome, but there was a strange allure to it—something unsettling yet compelling. His most striking feature, though, was his eyes. They didn't have a color of their own, instead reflecting the world like pools of liquid silver.

Right now, those eyes were lightless, mirroring the abyss.

Mordret turned to him, his smile widening. For a fleeting moment, he looked eerily like Morgan. A resemblance only siblings could share.

"What is this now... Is the Spell handing out divine aspects like candy? To think there was another among us." His voice was laced with mock surprise. "Imagine my shock when I realized you were just like me. And that thing you have… I'm very curious about it. The artifact that blinded me in the Ebony Tower—what a powerful tool against divination. It will make my life so much easier. So you see, Sunless, taking you as a vessel isn't ideal, but it is inevitable."

Sunny's expression darkened.

"Like us?" He crossed his arms. "What do you mean? There was someone else?"

Mordret chuckled, shaking his head.

"Always the curious one, hmm? A true researcher... But I'm afraid I can't say his name." His silver eyes gleamed with amusement. "But you already know him, don't you? Who do you think led you to me? Who do you think left those notes and scrolls scattered across the Chain Isles? Who do you think fed you information about the Nightmare Seed? About the Six Transcendent Shackles of Hope? About the Sun God's knives? Ah, Sunless... Don't you realise it? Reflection Of Sun... Is fake. Didn't we talk about that wicked beast already?"

A chill ran down Sunny's spine. Cold sweat trickled down his neck.

No.

Mordret and that... thing had manipulated him? The last Divine Aspect user was—

"The Oldest Dream..."

Sunny's voice was barely a whisper. He trembled, horror sinking deep into his bones.

"You… You're the inheritor of the War God. Nephis inherited from the Sun God. And I… from the Shadow God..." He swallowed. "Tell me then… Who does the Oldest Dream inherit from? Only the Beast, Heart, and Storm Gods remain. Which one?"

Mordret tilted his head, then threw his head back in laughter. It was light and melodic, yet there was something profoundly wrong about it.

"Which god?" His grin widened, silver eyes glinting. "I don't know. No one really does. Or perhaps... he isn't inheriting from any of the gods at all. That clownish beast is that confusing."

Sunny stood frozen.

None of the gods? That... isn't that impossible? Divine aspects come from gods, don't they? So how? How was this possible?

Sunny's mind reeled, the weight of the revelation pressing down on him like a leaden shroud. He was a curious soul by nature—ignorance gnawed at him like a disease. Not knowing something he desperately wanted to understand was infuriating. But even so, his confusion was eclipsed by the cold, creeping terror curling around his heart.

For the first time, he feared the Oldest Dream more than he feared Mordret.

Someone with that much knowledge, that much power—someone who did not need the blessing of the gods to walk his own path? That was more terrifying than anything he had ever encountered.

"Then... who is he? Or she? What is that thing?"

Mordret took a step forward, a Midnight Shard manifesting in his grip. Sunny's eyes widened in alarm. Mordret was using… his memories?! Damnation.

"Hey, didn't you want to be my friend?" Sunny forced a grin, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Let's talk."

Mordret raised an eyebrow before chuckling, his grip tightening around the blade.

"Let's do that after i destroy your soul."

And then, the battle began.

---

At the same time, Cassia's breath came ragged and uneven as she slumped against the cold stone floor. Every muscle in her body screamed in protest. She was exhausted, injured. Not exactly an ideal situation, but there was nothing she could do about it.

She had endured torture. Imprisonment. Starvation. Thirst.

But she could endure. She always had. So she did now.

Everything depended on Sunny. If he won…

They didn't have much time. Saint Cormac would return soon.

Forcing herself to move, she stumbled toward Sunny, supporting his body as his eyes fluttered open. A sharp breath of relief escaped her lips as she hauled him up.

Now, they needed to escape.

Her rapier twirled in the air, ready.

"Kill her!"

Sunny's alarmed voice sent a shiver down her spine.

"W-what? What's wrong—"

The Quiet Dancer moved faster than thought, its lethal edge slicing through the air toward Master Welthe's neck. Cassia barely had time to react before the strike was blocked.

Mordret wasn't dead.

He had simply retreated, slipping back into his previous vessel like a serpent shedding its skin.

Cassia's breath hitched in her throat. Thin cracks appeared on the elegant blade of her rapier. Gasping, she hastily dismissed the Echo before it could be shattered entirely and turned to Sunny, pulling him to his feet.

"What… what do we do now?!"

Sunny shot her an incredulous look and screamed.

"What?! Run, of course! RUN!"

---

The corridors of the Night Temple became a labyrinth of shadows and echoes as they ran. Cassia and Sunny, bodies pushed beyond their limits, driven by sheer desperation. But Mordret was relentless, his presence a ghostly specter at their backs.

Avoiding him wasn't just a test of cunning—it was a war against their own failing strength and dwindling essence.

But Cassia's mind was occupied by something else entirely.

Why? Why had her vision changed again?

Hours had passed, yet Cormac had not returned. That meant the timeline had shifted. Which meant… Mordret might kill them.

She was sure now.

Klaus.

It had to be him.

Klaus was the Oldest Dream.

He had left those scrolls and notes across the Chain Isles. That was why she had been able to repair the flying ship so quickly. That was why Sunny had pieced things together so fast. That was why the timeline had changed—why her vision no longer aligned with reality.

Had Klaus planned all of this? Had he orchestrated Mordret's release without drawing attention to himself?

Had he used them—her and Sunny—as scapegoats to take the fall for Valor's wrath?

Cassia shuddered. How insidious.

She had never fully trusted Klaus, even if she had feelings for him. She had known from the beginning that he was dangerous. But if Sunny was right—if the Oldest Dream truly possessed a Divine Aspect…

That should have been impossible.

But it wasn't.

Because it was happening right in front of her.

Klaus was the fourth Divine Aspect user. Or maybe... He was first.... First Divine Aspect User with no blessings from gods... Someone who didn't needed to inherit anything from gods and someone who could rebel against fate... If that's the case than Klaus is very unique and terrifying individual.

Cassia swallowed hard, licking her dry lips, her pulse hammering in her ears. If they died now, it would be her fault.

Klaus had warned her not to trust her visions too much.

And she had ignored him.

---

They had finally left the sanctum behind, entering the main structure of the Citadel. It was vast and convoluted, an endless maze of passageways and chambers. Here, they had options—escape into the outward ring, descend into one of the six belfries, or even circle back and hide in the seventh bell tower, gambling that Mordret wouldn't expect them to return.

But Cassia knew better.

Escaping him wouldn't be that easy.

With a weary sigh, she leaned against the cold stone wall, allowing herself a fleeting moment of relief.

Then, she saw it.

A glint in the darkness.

One of the countless mirror shards reflecting the dim torchlight—Mordret's eyes, scattered like ghosts throughout the temple, watching.

Cassia's heart lurched in her chest. She barely had time to react before he stepped forward, emerging from the glass as if rising from water.

Sunny tensed beside her, his grip tightening around Cruel Sight. Despite the fear prickling his skin, he forced a nervous grin.

Cassia summoned the Quiet Dancer. The loyal rapier floated beside her, poised to strike.

Mordret strolled toward them at an unhurried pace, his sword resting lazily on his shoulder. He tilted his head, silver eyes gleaming.

"Now… how should I end you two? Hmm?"

Before either of them could move, the entire temple shuddered.

It started as a low tremor beneath their feet, a distant rumble, but it grew—rapidly, violently. The walls groaned, cracks spiderwebbing across the stone. The air itself seemed to shatter like fragile glass.

Then came the explosion.

A force like a hurricane ripped through the temple, debris flying in every direction. Sunny looked up in horror... There was no cold stone above their heads anymore... He was looking at... sky.

Than The world twisted as an unseen pressure crashed down upon them like the weight of a dying star.

The Night Temple trembled one last time—

And then, it shattered.