Shadow Slave novel Chapter 2407

Chapter 2407 Certain Death

The Stone Saint hesitated.

The Spirit of Doubt was kneeling on the shattered ground in front of him, its black wings broken and torn. The eerie moth was great and awful. However, so was the Stone Saint. He was the Jade Titan, and the Mantle of the Underworld lay heavy on his shoulders. If he wanted to kill the Cursed creature, the only choice it had was to die.

Even now, the Puppeteer was only keeping itself alive by slowing down the flow of time to such a crawl that it seemed to stand still. But interfering with an absolute law to this degree was an unbearable burden even for a being like the eerie moth. It would not be able to hold time still for very long, let alone indefinitely. So, if the Stone Saint wanted to kill the Spirit of Doubt, he could.

But did he want to?

Why would he, indeed?

The Stone Saint glanced at the giant moth chillingly, feeling a peculiar compulsion to answer its question honestly.

"I am not sure. However, I burn with the Flame of Divinity, while you are a Nightmare Creature of the Void. Are we not enemies, you and I? Are we not destined to maim and slay each other? I am holding a sword, while you are on your knees. Is that not reason enough to kill you?"

The Puppeteer's enormous black eyes glistened like gorgeous gems, reflecting innumerable versions of the Stone Saint and his merciless blade in their compound depth.

It spoke softly:

"Ah, but look around you, warrior of the Underworld. Look who brought me to my knees. The Wolf, the Huntress, the Giant, and the Dragon. They are shadows of Death; he is a herald of Night. The servants of the gods surround us, you and me. The same gods whom your Prince is at war with. Are they not your true adversary, instead of me?"

The Stone Saint gazed at him chillingly.

'At war with.'

The ferocious flame burning in his chest blazed, full of pride and animosity.

The Spirit of Doubt was right. The gods were enemies of the Prince of the Underworld, and therefore, of his children. So many had been shattered on the innumerable battlefields of the War, so many had fallen.

So many were yet to fall. There was no peace left anywhere in the world. There was no mercy left, either. Surrender was impossible, and those who lost would not be spared. So, the war could only end when the gods fell, or when all of existence fell.

The Puppeteer's soft voice flowed into his ears like honey:

"You are a child of Nether, and therefore, of the Forgotten God, who dreams in the Void, who dreams of the Void. I am a being of the Void, and while there is a conflict between us, doesn't it pale in comparison to the conflict between us and those who serve the vile gods? Are we not more alike than we are apart? Are we not allies, before we are enemies?"

'Allies.'

The Stone Saint regarded the kneeling moth silently, then shifted his gaze to the frozen figures of his own companions. His frown deepened. The three shadows. The gorgeous dragon whose scales were the color of midnight, its eyes burning like silver stars.

'The servants of the gods.'

The vile, hateful, cruel gods.

Why was he fighting side by side with the adversary?

The Stone Saint glanced at the Spirit of Doubt.

"You might be right."

There was indeed a semblance of truth to what the sinister moth had said.

He smiled chillingly behind the visor of his helmet.

"But, Spirit of Doubt, did you not say it yourself?"

The Stone Saint gathered his will, sensing the pressure of the Snow Domain crushing him.

"That you made a deal with Weaver."

Something about the Puppeteer's eyes changed.

But it was too late.