Shadow Slave - Chapter 449 - 449: Thousand Years of Hunger

'Here we go…'

Sunny faced the stairwell and stood motionless, looking at the black rot through his trembling shadow. Sensing something, Saint turned around, too. The tip of her sword hesitantly rose into the air. The next few moments were going to decide whether he was going to live or die. or maybe be condemned to a fate much worse than death. One level lower, the harrowing corruption that had been spreading from the severed arm of a deity was moving. The black ulcerous flesh was rising and falling, as if in the throes of…

death?

Or transformation?

Sunny gritted his teeth, waited for a second…

And then breathed out with immeasurable relief. 'Dying…

it's dying.'

It felt as though he had been sentenced to execution, only for a pardon to arrive at the last possible moment, when the rope was already pressing on his neck. Indeed, the terrifying rot was withering. As thousands of years that passed since it was locked in the Obsidian Tower caught up with it, the devouring corruption appeared to be dying of starvation. The stone surface assimilated into it convulsed and wriggled, as if consumed by pain. The silver brazier was melting. The growths of the bulbous black flesh were slowly receding, their color turning ashen.

The process was slow, but at the edges of the patch of corruption, the rot was already turning into…

into wisps of darkness, which then disappeared without a trace. As tension left Sunny's body, he couldn't help but sway a little. 'Good…

something has gone my way, at last.'

Before, he had been considering his options and finding no possible way to escape from the rot if it was to start spreading. He had considered trying to damage it with Broken Oath, but doubted that anything the Awakened Memory could do would work, considering that even the original owner of the seven-fingered hand resorted to severing their limb completely instead of trying to destroy the spreading corruption. Foods You Should Not Eat Every Day Open He had also entertained the idea of using the Cruel Sight, which was now infused with divine flame.

But something told Sunny that the massive brazier where the rot had taken root had once been full of it, too…

that was apparent from how charred the severed arm of the transient deity was. If even thousands of years of burning in annihilating divine flame couldn't destroy or stop the black rot, then what hope did he have?

In the end, though, the corruption had destroyed itself. Neither divine flame nor an actual deity had been able to damage the black rot, but its hunger — and the relentless nature of time — were. 'Thank gods…'

Sunny inhaled deeply and tiredly closed his eyes. The corruption was slowly dying, pieces of it slowly disappearing, bit after bit. All that was left behind were the damaged stone and the memory of primal horror. He grimaced. 'But also, damn the gods!

Why would they allow for such a thing to exist…'

Shaking his head, Sunny wiped the sweat off his face, then turned around and walked back to the stone pedestal. Reaching with one hand, he picked up the long, sharp needle and stared at it for some time. The needle seemed to have been made out of polished iron, but due to the traces of divine blood absorbed by it, the cold metal had assumed a faint golden shine. Sunny looked at it for a long time, trying to understand if this was a mundane item or some mystical artifact. In the end, he had to admit that he had no clue.

The needle did not turn into a Memory like Weaver's Mask had. He didn't see any spellweave inside of it, either. However, the needle also didn't feel like a simple object. It was…

strange. He thought for a bit, then summoned the Covetous Coffer and carefully placed the needle inside. The skeins of diamond string also went in, easily disappearing into the gluttonous box. 'I will have time to study it later…'

With that, Sunny hesitated for a bit, then reluctantly headed back toward the second level of the great pagoda. He was going to watch the harrowing rot die, and then try to approach the severed hand of the mysterious deity. *** Some time later, Sunny was sitting on the lowest step of the stairs leading to the great hall, staring at the massive brazier in its center. What was left of it, to be precise. The devouring corruption took its sweet time dying. Even the hunger of thousands of years could not destroy it so easily, it seemed.

The black flesh writhed and pulsated, disappearing little by little. Several times, veins of rot tried to spread outward, clearly sensing the presence of a living being nearby and lusting to absorb it…

him. But the profane infestation was too weak to overcome the entropic power of starvation. The silver brazier, which had long ago become a part of the horrid corruption, melted and fell apart, then disappeared into wisps of pure darkness. Soon, it was clear that the rot was not long for this world. All that remained from its vile flesh were a few growths infused into the severed arm itself. Staring at the disintegrating rot, Sunny felt both deep, primal terror and a strange compulsion to try and damage it a little in hopes of being credited for the kill by the Spell.

Who knew what reward he would receive?

But in the end, Sunny remained still. Firstly, because he wasn't even sure that the corruption would be acknowledged by the Spell as a creature. He didn't really know if that thing was…

alive, for the lack of a better word. If it was an entity, a process, or a manifestation of some profane law that he didn't know of. Secondly, because he was absolutely unwilling to approach the rot, even now that it was dying. He wasn't even willing to let his Memories get anywhere near it. The Memories were connected to his soul, after all. Who knew if that thing was capable of spreading to a Memory, and then to his very soul through the invisible link?

So, Sunny simply sat silently and waited. After a while, the corruption finally died. The charred flesh of the severed arm became ashen, crumbled into dust, and finally disappeared in wisps of deep, impenetrable darkness. All that remained was the empty hall, the patch of mangled obsidian in its center…