In the abyss of the Shadow Realm, shadows loomed like nervous interns on their first day.
Fifty thousand of them.
Fifty thousand mute, expressionless, intensely obedient shadows.
He stood on a ledge overlooking them, arms folded.
"Right," Sunny muttered. "Fifty thousand shadows and no clipboard… Logistics hell."
Sunny gasped, 'Is— Is this what Aiko feels like?!'
He soon dismissed that thought, because well… Aiko loves money.
Hell— She's probably earning more as of now.
"Fifty thousand fragments," he sighed "A little unethical. A lot useful."
The shadows didn't respond. Couldn't. Instead, they rippled.
A few bowed. One even managed a dramatic kneel, like the ones you see in fantasy-royalty dramas.
Sunny narrowed his eyes. "Okay, you," he pointed at the kneeling shadow, "you've got style. You're in."
[A shadow performs a humble wriggle.]
He turned back to the soon-to-be-unpaid-interns, shadows lining up automatically. Not from discipline. From business ethic.
Each would be broken down—shattered into a usable piece of darkness. Recycled. Efficient. Beautiful.
Sunny reached took a deep breath and began.
[A shadow seeks your finality.]
[A shadow seeks your finality.]
[A shadow seeks—]
"Yeah, yeah, get in line."
One by one, the shadows surged into him, vanishing into his central soul core. No sound. No protest. No dreams.
Just fragments.
He wasn't sure if they felt anything.
Probably not.
But just before one of them dissolved, it paused… and struck a pose.
A single, glorious flex.
Sunny blinked.
'Respect.'
[A shadow seeks your finality.]
Ten thousand in.
The core groaned.
Twenty thousand.
Still room.
Thirty.
Forty.
Forty-nine thousand.
He hesitated at the last one.
It stood there, completely still, unmoving… and then performed a wobbly pirouette-collapse.
Sunny stared.
Then sighed.
"You deserve better."
[A shadow finds solace within you.]
And with that, it was done.
Fifty thousand fragments, tucked neatly inside one brimming soul core.
Sunny turned to the farthest horizon—where the shades bowed. Not shadows, not fragments, but the ghostly impressions of those he'd slain.
Silent. Unblinking. Waiting.
He pointed at a wolf-like shade.
"You. Let's get you up and running."