Shadow Slave alternate paths: The sun of song

Ashryn had brought them their meals to the sparing arena as per Sunny's request.

He still had wanted to test some things with his shadow.

Lonesome Howl sat cross-legged nearby, already halfway through her food like she hadn't just thrown a teenager across the room minutes ago.

Moonveil was nibbling on some pastries, seemingly having cravings for sweets to pair with her tea.

Sunny ate enough to satiate his hunger then focused on his shadow.

He summoned [Puppeteer's shroud], it wrapped around him and fit him perfectly.

He ordered his shadow to do some basic things, wrap around his body, then his armor, then detach and scout.

It already was an invaluable helper.

But was that it?

Was that truly all that a divine shadow could do?

Gloomy glared at him as if it wanted to protest that that was plenty enough already.

Moonveil and lonesome howl were observing him, making not of every memory he had and everything his shadow could do.

He turned towards them.

"Can you do me a favor?" He asked

"Asking favors from saints now?" Lonesome said with amusement, "Such boldness"

He ignored her, "It's nothing much, can you guys do some very light sparing?"

Moonveil raised a single elegant brow, her teacup paused mid-air. "Define 'very light,'" she said in a perfectly neutral tone.

Sunny hesitated. "Like… don't try to kill me? And do it slowly enough to actually see you move,"

Lonesome Howl laughed. "No promises, i might get caught up in the moment." she said, already stretching her arms over her head with a gleam in her eyes. "But alright, I'm curious. What are you trying to do?"

"I'm trying to see what my shadow is doing," He said, he sent a command to his shadow to attack to Moonveil's feet.

And that it did.

Perhaps a little too eagerly, It turned towards Sunny and gave an exaggerated mock sigh of relief.

As if it was relived to be attached to someone smarter, good looking and stronger.

'This... this traitor!'

Moonveil looked down towards her shadow and the new one accompanying it.

"Peculiar..." She muttered.

the two sisters rose from their seats and walked to the center of the arena. Their movements were vastly different—Moonveil was all grace and fluidity, drifting like wind on silk, while Lonesome Howl strode like a predator eager for a challenge.

"Now that I think about it, the last time we had a spar you..." Drawled Lonesome.

Heat rushed up Moonveil's face, "Shut up!"

What followed wasn't a duel—it was an art form.

Lonesome moved with brutal force, carving through the air with raw physical might, her blade striking like a falling comet. Moonveil danced around each blow, not blocking but redirecting, parrying with incredible grace, her robes fluttering like storm-tossed silk.

They were holding back. That much was clear.

But even their restraint was terrifying.

Sunny watched, entranced.

But more importantly he watched his shadow.

Sunny knew that there was a secret hiding inside his shadow that could become the foundation of his own unique battle style.

He just couldn't understand what that secret was.

His progress at deciphering it had stalled. While training, Sunny had trouble keeping his eyes both on Nephis and on the shadow. Whenever he tried, the relentless legacy would inevitably have the wooden sword at his throat. But even if he managed it somehow, there was an invisible wall standing between him and anything even remotely resembling understanding.

He was in a dire need of a breakthrough.

So what if… his shadows tried to imitate someone else instead of him? And not just someone, but a real sword expert in the middle of a fight?

Not only would Sunny be able to observe every tiny detail of its movements, but there would also be something to compare them against.

The shadow was a part of him, after all. It was hard to tell where Sunny ended and the shadow began. That's why the difference in how it moved and how he moved was almost imperceptible.

But if it followed someone else, he would be able to separate the cadence and pattern of that person's movements from the shadow's by contrasting it against his own.

This had to work!

Sunny looked at it with an intensity that threatened to burn two holes in the white marble.

Soon, his eyes widened.

'I… I see it! I think I see it!'

There, in the tiniest difference between the way Moonveil's own shadow moved and the way his shadow moved, he saw it.

He had found his breakthrough.

Observing the motions of two shadows that followed Moonveil, Sunny was finally able to understand the foundation of the elusive shadow style.

Before, Sunny had only glimpsed the essence of the shadow style—insidious, formless, everchanging. And that was the problem. A style was meant to be structured, built on patterns and principles. But how could something without form become a framework?

It hadn't made sense.

Until now.

The answer was so simple, he almost laughed.

Imitation.

Of course. Shadows lurked in the dark… and mirrored whatever cast them.

That was the key.

The shadow style wasn't about having a set form. It was about stealing strength—studying an enemy's technique, mimicking it, and turning it against them.

To master it, Sunny had to learn to behave like a shadow.

He stared blankly at Moonveil and Lonesome howl's sparring match, his mind lost in the revelation. This style held limitless potential—fluid, reactive, and impossible to predict. But to imitate, he first had to understand. And that required skill, insight, and time.

More than anything, this was just the beginning.

Creating a full battle art was no small feat—it could take years. But that was fine. He didn't need it perfect. Just usable.

Even a rough version would make him far more dangerous.

He smiled.

Then frowned.

'…But how do I actually do that?'

Eventually, the sparring ended. Moonveil returned to her tea, unbothered. Lonesome ruffled his hair with a grin and said, "Cool shadow!"

He just sat quietly in the observation seats long after they'd left, staring at the arena, the shadows, the faint scorch marks on the stone.

Waiting for something to click.

It didn't.

Sunny sighed, maybe he should sleep on it.