Shadow Slave novel Chapter 649

Sunny stared at the immortal sorcerer, stunned by those words. The scale and scope of the bloodshed and adversity Noctis was striving for were… were simply beyond comprehension. And yet, he had confessed this terrible desire with the same carefree, nonchalant, jovial attitude… as though he was indeed talking about brewing tea instead of waging war on four deathless Saints and their armies.

Sunny remembered the first time he saw Noctis… bloodied, crestfallen, sitting motionlessly in front of the fire with a diamond sickle laying at his feet, its blade marred with crimson.

A grim and somber thought formed in his mind all by itself:

"Insane… you are insane. All of you are…"

He flinched, then removed his trembling hand from the emerald amulet.

Noctis threw his head back and laughed, as if he heard the funniest joke in the world. The silent sailor dolls stood around him, motionless, staring into emptiness with their crudely carved eyes. The scene that was strange and fantastical a few moments ago suddenly seemed threatening and eerie.

After a while, the sorcerer grew quiet, then glanced at Sunny with a mischievous smile and asked:

"Yes, indeed. I could not have said it better myself. All of us are insane. But don't… don't you get it yet, Sunless? Don't you understand why?"

Sunny frowned, then shook his head.

'What the hell is he trying to say?'

How was he supposed to know why everyone in this damned Nightmare seemed completely mad…

And then, something moved in his mind. A seed of a thought… a nascent hint of understanding.

His pupils narrowed slightly.

There was something... strange about the Kingdom of Hope. He had first sensed it after escaping the Red Colosseum and facing Solvane, that beautiful and utterly demented fiend… her actions made a perverse, and yet perfect sense. But there was still something wrong about her.

Back then, he had felt a vague suspicion. Something seemed out of place, something didn't make sense. And after, when he had been thrust into the neverending nightmares, this feeling only grew stronger. He just had no time to think about it.

Everyone here seemed slightly… or greatly… off. Every emotion was sharper and cut deeper, every vice or virtue grew out of control until it turned into a destructive obsession. He had experienced it all, lived through all of it in the nightmares over and over again.

Pain, sorrow, tragedy... madness.

Even Sunny himself was affected by this insidious strangeness. His single-minded obsession with learning how to weave, the sudden intensity of his affection toward Elyas, the subsequent crushing heartbreak over the young man's death, the unquenching hatred he had felt for the black steed… all of those things were not exactly out of his character, but slightly more consuming than they should have been.

Remembering the past few months, Sunny shivered.

'Wait… wait…'

Feverishly, he tried to recall all he knew about this Nightmare. The seven knives, the seven immortals… a thousand years of solemn duty… the terrible torture one of the rules of the Ivory City had been subjected to by his own brother… the destruction of the Sacred Grove… the Shadow Lord making a choice to take a coward's way out before, before…

Before what?

Suddenly, an expression of shocked understanding appeared on Sunny's face.