In a room in the southern base of the city, a brown-haired boy rose feverishly from his comfortable bed.
He yawned and scratched his back, moved toward the edge of the bed and placed his feet on the floor, then stood up gently.
He looked through the small window of his room; the sun was beginning to rise.
He moved to the middle of the room and stretched his arms.
He approached the wardrobe, took out a comfortable white shirt and a pair of trousers that allowed him to perform physical work.
Lastly, he summoned the boots of his armor.
He entered the small washroom he had in his room and splashed water on his face.
After a few minutes cleaning up, he stepped out and climbed to the roof of his complex.
He watched boredly as others woke up just like he did, and many others were only now going to sleep, mostly hunters returning after a hard sleepless night.
He summoned his sword and began practicing a few katas.
His life had become monotonous since the winter solstice.
He had actually been lucky—barely had he appeared and touched the sand when he was identified by the sentinels on the walls.
He spent the first weeks looking for signs of Nephis; when he couldn't find anything, he devoted himself entirely to his job.
Over time he gained a reputation and was even recognized by the lieutenants.
His job wasn't anything extraordinary; in fact, to him it was something rather stupid—he was a messenger.
He was in charge of carrying reports and letters between the bases, which he considered a job beneath his level.
After several frustrated days, he sought out a group of hunters and ended up joining one of the expeditions into the labyrinth, which turned out to be a… humbling experience.
He learned that life here was only possible because of a few strong ones; if not for the Lord and his lieutenants, probably not even a fifth of the sleepers in this place would exist.
After finishing his katas, he climbed down from the roof and headed to reception—he was expecting a package he had ordered some time ago.
As he walked, he saw the usual things: huntresses chatting and drinking, engineers working, sleepers transporting stuff, and Sunny pounding a couple of idiots.
He stopped for a second.
'That guy was here!?'
He turned his head and saw Sunless striking—or rather training—two men, whom he actually recognized. They were Jack and Mick, his hunting companions.
Although he still held a grudge for being humiliated by him back then, he managed to forgive him, mostly because it was unthinkable to him that a street rat could have such skill.
He had deluded himself into believing he was some kind of infiltrated assassin sent to kill Nephis, just like him—and in fact he seemed to be more successful, which frustrated him a little.
'No matter. I'll be the one to kill her in the end.'
He slowly approached the group; then Mike turned and pointed at him.
"Caster! Save my ass!"
- - -
Sunny had returned to the hunters' base to look for Effie, but on the way he had been intercepted by the pair of fools, who followed him everywhere; at first it annoyed him a bit, then, after thinking about it, he realized they could be useful.
He wanted to see how strong they were; he had heard some things but had to see it for himself.
And there he was, fighting both of them at once, and the result was impressive.
As for Mike, he was a great swordsman—not as good as Nephis or the top lieutenants, but he had good skills.
He thought this while dodging a lateral slash.
'But he can still improve a lot…'
He began redirecting Mike's attacks, slowly wearing him down and pushing him back.
'His stance can improve, his fundamentals are poor, and his attacks are predictable and simple.'
Mike, realizing his intention, tried to escape, but it was too late; before he knew it, Sunny was already two steps away from taking his head off.
The main difference between a good swordsman and a very good one was that the latter could easily recognize the qualities of the former—and once you knew your enemy, half the work was done.
He took a step and raised his sword, preparing to deliver the final blow; then Mike shouted:
"Caster! Save my ass!"
Barely having time to observe, he felt Jack's shadow terribly close—he had thrown him far away just moments ago after a slip-up.
He turned quickly while twisting his torso to evade the attack.
There he saw Jack, running at him like a mad bull, his sword poised to kill him.
He was already preparing his next attack when something strange happened.
Something that had not happened in a very long time.
He slipped.
His foot slid over the stone, causing his body to fall toward the incoming attack, placing his face right in the sword's path.
With only a second to react, he pushed off the ground with his other foot, shifting his trajectory slightly to the left.
The blade grazed his cheek, leaving a thin red line on it.
Without losing clarity, he used the momentum to land a strong punch on Jack's abdomen.
His fist struck harshly against the man's armor; he even heard something crack.
The fool's body was launched away, crashing into a pile of crates and falling unconscious in the process.
Sunny himself had to perform an acrobatic move to avoid falling to the ground.
Once on his feet, he turned quickly toward Mike, expecting another attack.
Then he saw him—crouching behind another man.
'Caster.'
The guy had a strange look, but he didn't seem hostile, nor did Sunny detect signs of any kind of act.
Their gazes met, holding for several seconds; neither backed down.
"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing!?"
A sleeper arrived and scolded them for damaging his materials.
Sunny quickly apologized and lifted Jack's unconscious body.
He shot Caster a glance—now he understood why people tended to fear him. Even though he wasn't as skilled a swordsman as Mike, he still knew a thing or two—but that wasn't what made him a difficult rival.
During their fight, strange things often happened, like a small slip during a sword clash or his strikes being far more elusive than they seemed—and that last moment.
Anyone else would have died there, definitely. Without that split-second reaction he'd had, he would have ended up impaled on the guy's sword.
After only one fight, he felt wary of him.
- - -
Sunny and Caster moved to one side of the wall, letting the two fools rest for the moment.
"It is a pleasure to see you again, Sunless."
His eye twitched slightly—the guy's tone irritated him a bit.
"Same to you, Caster. So, you're their companion?"
Caster nodded in response, though he looked downcast for some reason—he didn't seem very proud of that fact.
Caster looked out toward the horizon, where the great Crimson Spire rose like an ornament of false freedom.
"Yes. You must've already noticed they're much stronger than they look."
Sunny nodded.
"It was surprising. Though they still have things to polish, I'd say they're the most talented sleepers on the Forgotten Shore, second only to the strongest lieutenants."
Caster gave him a surprised look—that was a lot to say. After all, some lieutenants had slain Fallen creatures, which already placed them among the best in history.
Claiming they were at that level could be taken as exaggerated—of course, Caster had already experienced their power and skill, so at the very least he considered Sunny's words.
"If you say so… Anyway, how long have you been here?"
"I arrived the night before last."
Caster turned with wide eyes.
"Y-you spent two months in the labyrinth?"
Sunny smiled.
"Oh, yes. It wasn't that hard. The strongest creature was just a simple Awakened terror."
Caster lowered his head and let out a small laugh.
"Sure. Good joke."
Sunny tilted his head.
"Who says—?"
"Hey, Sunny!"
He turned toward the voice, a bit frustrated—he wanted to keep teasing Caster.
A few meters away he saw Effie coming toward him with a smile, two weak men slung over her shoulders.
Harper and Patrick were being carried by the huntress against their will; both tried to break free, though Harper was touching places he definitely shouldn't, in her opinion.
'That kid…'
Effie tossed the two bodies toward Sunny; both landed cursing, though for different reasons.
"Thanks, Effie."
The huntress winked at him.
"It's nothing. I have to go, pretty boy—Vaen needs me."
She turned to leave.
"The next favor, you'll owe me, baby."
And with that joke, she left.
The other boys looked at him with a bit of wariness—except for the pair of fools.
"Write that down, Mike!"
Who knows from where, he had taken out paper and pencil.
'I hope that motivates them to train instead.'
Without further delay, Sunny grabbed Caster by the shoulder and stood before the rest.
"Congratulations, kids. You've been chosen by me to be members of my cohort. Be proud!"
A silence fell for a few seconds; then ghostly explosions burst in the air and the pair began jumping with joy.
"Yay!"
"We're gonna hunt with the Boss!"
The others stared intently at Sunny.
Harper slowly raised his hand.
"Can we refuse?"
Sunny nodded understandingly—of course, anyone would have doubts after being practically kidnapped by a stranger. He pointed at him and said:
"Of course not!"
He turned toward Caster.
"Alright, let's start by checking how skilled you all are. All of you charge at me—if you manage to graze me, I'll give each of you an Ascended Memory!"
The pair of fools stopped celebrating and put on threatening faces.
'I suppose even they can manage that.'
Caster, noticing he was serious, went to speak with Harper and Patrick.
Jack raised a finger, pointing at his own head.
"Forgive me in advance, Boss."
And with that, five sleepers—three of them nearly as strong as lieutenants—charged at him.
'This could be fun.'