The soul sea of a person was always depicted as something elegant and clear-cut—at least in the novels and manhwa Sunny used to read. A single soul core, orbiting lights representing Memories and Echoes. Clean. Contained. Understandable.
But what lay before Sunless now defied that comforting fiction.
A lone Shadow Core hung at the heart of the abyss, radiating un-light, a darkness so complete it seemed to consume not just illumination but the very concept of form. Around it, a vast [Web] of iridescent threads shimmered faintly, shifting color like oil on water, illuminating the unseen contours of his soul sea with a beauty that was as mesmerizing as it was alien.
This strange, dreamlike expanse wasn't new to him. He had seen it before.
What was new were the watchers.
The seven blind eyes of the Mountain King stared through the veil, unmoving. The carapace scavengers he had torn from the ruins were there too, coiled in their grotesque stillness. Even the Cave Claud loomed near the edge—no longer a burned beyond recognition , but a malformed shadow of something alive.
But all of them faded into the background before the presence that now ruled his soul.
The Tree.
It towered in silence behind his Shadow Core, a black monolith of twisted majesty. Its roots curled like claws through the soul sea. Its bark was the same pitch-black hue as the Dark Sea's waters, smooth and cold. Its canopy was blood-red, a burst of color that looked less like leaves and more like a crown of raw flesh. It had once reached high into the sky, broad enough to cast all of Ashen Barrow into eternal shade.
Now, it stood resurrected within him. Regal. Imposing. Wrong.
The fruits that hung from its branches gleamed invitingly, round and plump like forbidden offerings. They looked almost edible.
Sunny had destroyed it. He had consigned the Terror to oblivion, to the grave where all nightmares go to die.
But the Spell had disagreed.
sunny did not know if he should call it generous or sadistic.
The runes in front of Sunnless were making him lean more on Sadistic.
Echo: The soul devouring tree
Echo Rank: Awakened.
Echo Class: Terror
Sunny knew he should be overjoyed.any memory of the Awakened Rank, especially of the sixth tier, would be something most sleepers would kill for.
Let alone an echo.
Echo description:
[Once a mere black seed, it took root in a land forsaken by light, where the sun had long since abandoned the sky, and the nights were ruled by an unyielding, oppressive darkness. From this cursed soil, the Beautiful Tree rose, defying the very laws of nature. It was born amidst the remains of a mountain of corpses, its roots twisting through the bones of those who had come before it.
Determined to claim its place in the world, it spread its branches, yearning to stretch its canopy across the desolate land that birthed it. The tree bore witness to the cruel birth of a new sun—a sun that preyed for justice—and to the banishment and eventual rebirth of the great Darkness that had once ruled with an iron grip. It saw the ebb and flow of countless battles, the clash of steel, and the endless procession of life and death that ravaged the earth.
Through it all, the tree fed—its roots drawing sustenance not from the earth or the sky, but from the very suffering and bloodshed surrounding it. Hungry for glory, it grew, It grew beautiful—horribly, blasphemously beautiful. A monument to suffering. A jewel of despair.
But beauty, like all things, is fleeting. The tree's rise to power would be undone by the machinations of a treacherous Shadow, born from darkness and deceit. With quiet malice, this shadow twisted the tree's fate, weaving its insidious influence into the heart of the mighty being. And so, in the end, the tree—the once-beautiful, fierce symbol of defiance—succumbed to the treachery of the very forces that had once inspired its growth. It fell, a tragic hero undone by the very darkness it had sought to outshine, leaving only a haunting memory of its glory.]
* Always with the treachery, *Sunny thought bitterly, jaw tight.* I swear the Spell just likes messing with me. Stupid thing.*
Echo Attributes:
[Lush foliage]
[Grace]
[Grate harvest]
[Bramblewitch]
[Web]
Echo Abilities:
[ambrosia]
[Wyrdrooted]
[Nurturing]
[Patronage]
Attribute Descriptions:
[Lush Foliage]: This bejeweled Tree's growth is awe-inspiring and unrelenting, blooming even in despair.
[Grace]: Every motion of the Tree drips with ancient nobility, as though it remembers being a god.
[Great Harvest]: The fruits it bears are terrible gifts—ripe with power, thick with cost.
[Bramblewitch]: Its thorns do not tear flesh, but thread through the soul.
[Web]:A strong web made to make the alien coexist.
Ability description:
[Ambrosia]: Merely standing in its presence warps perception. It is a blessing, it insists.
[Wyrdrooted]: Its roots are unerring, no ground to wild , no spirit too distant.
[Nurturing]: Through it, its tools bloom, mutated, transformed, made more. When need arises.
[Patronage]: through its tools, This bejeweling Tree is a master of a lesser Soul Domain, ones the tools find themselves in the Soul devouring Trees snare their very Hearts are bound to it.
It was powerful. No denying that.
But still... Sunless hated that damned tree. Hated that it had returned. Hated that it now lived inside him, glowing with impossible life beneath a sea of darkness.
'*'
Sunlight.
It spilled across his skin like a golden tide, gentle and merciless all at once. It warmed his body and chased the Dark Sea back into its corner, banishing the phantom cold that had coiled through his marrow.
And it blinded Sunless the moment he opened his eyes.
He blinked slowly, breath shallow. Time had slipped through his fingers while he lingered in the quiet abyss of his soul sea. He hadn't gone there just to think—though he had been thinking. Thinking far too much.
He had been torn.
Torn on which of his Echoes should be sacrificed—no, offered—to become a "shadow." A simple word. But in the language of the Spell, there was no such thing as simple.
He didn't know what it meant.
To turn something into a shadow. Was it a blessing? A metamorphosis? Would it deepen the Echo's strength, unfurl something beautiful and terrible from the inside out?
If so, the Tree was the obvious choice. The Soul Devouring Tree, with its regal stillness and blasphemous grandeur—an Echo unlike any other. A Awakened Terror.
But what if the Spell meant something else?
What if it was destruction disguised as elevation? A hollowing-out. A curse. Then the Scavenger, grotesque and forgettable, would be the wiser sacrifice. It sat lowest in his menagerie, bottom of the picking order. A small loss, if loss was what it meant.
But he didn't know.
And so, in the end, he had chosen nothing. Kept his shadow shards. Left the Spell unanswered.
That was only half the reason he'd lingered beneath the surface. The other was simpler. More human.
The pain.
It hadn't followed him there. Not really. Not in full. In that still, submerged world beneath the waking shore, he could almost forget the burns that seared across his body like a second skin.
They stretched from the right side of his head down to the curve of his lower back—red and raw, the remnants of the dust explosion he'd triggered. He'd turned to shield himself at the last moment, instincts flaring, but that had left his right arm, his back, and most of his skull exposed to the blast.
The burns were savage. But they weren't the only injuries.
He should have died. Anyone else would have.
But he wasn't just anyone. He had [Trinity]. He had [Web]. And those strange, cruel blessings had kept him alive—barely breathing, but still breathing.
The first thing he'd done, even half-conscious and reeling, was drag his broken body toward Nephis. He knew what she was. What she could do. Her light could mend even wounds as deep as his.
She didn't.
She hadn't even looked at him.
The whole day he had tried—called out, stumbled, collapsed—tried to get her attention, voice growing hoarse, movements desperate. She hadn't answered. She had ignored him.
He didn't know why.
Maybe it was punishment. Maybe it was something colder.
The Tree hadn't liked the explosion. He could feel its quiet fury in the roots that stirred beneath his soul sea. Something ancient and territorial had recoiled from the blast. And maybe that fury had echoed in her, too.
So he endured.
For two weeks, he endured the pain. Fought off infection. Refused to die.
Because that was what he did. Sunless survived. That was his curse and his gift—he would claw through the dark, teeth bared, eyes bleeding, and refuse to let go of life no matter how brutal it became.
But he was still human.
And the pain… the pain was too much. For two weeks, it had been gnawing at the edges of his sanity. So he sought escape. And found it, as always, in the hollow, shimmering quiet of his soul sea.
Now it was over.
The pain was gone.
Neph had done it—finally. She had fulfilled her duty. She had healed him. Brought Cassie to safety. Brought Puffy. Brought Alice.
He was lying on one of the Seven Headless Monuments now. He didn't need to open his eyes to know. The stone beneath him whispered its identity into his nerves, and his shadow sense wrapped around its massive shape like a second skin.
Relief welled up in him. Warm and unexpected. A weight lifted. He felt like he could cry.
He didn't.
"Hey Sunless, guess what!"
He blinked. Turned his head slowly toward the voice. It was Nephis. And she sounded… happy.
That alone was enough to make the world tilt sideways. She sounded happy. Unrestrained. Bright.
Something big had happened.
"You slew a Fallen Titan while I was asleep," he said dryly. He didn't believe it. Didn't care. He couldn't bring himself to think.
"The city! We made it! It's here!"
That voice—it was Cassie now. Sweet and trembling. Happy and crying. And then she was there. She tackled him with a suddenness that sent a jolt through his ribs, but he didn't flinch. Couldn't. Her arms wound around him with startling force for someone so delicate, so weak . He felt the tremor in her limbs. The soft, frantic press of her body against his. The way her fingers clutched the back of his armor, like she thought he might disappear if she let go for even a moment. Her cheek pressed against the unburnt side of his chest, and her breath hitched. Not from exertion. From relief. She was holding him like he was something precious. Fragile.
He didn't move. Didn't speak. Just lay there.
Her heartbeat fluttered against him, rapid and real.
He could feel how small she was. How much trust there was in the way she folded against him, without hesitation, without shame. Her presence was all softness and sincerity, and yet it hit him harder than any wound he'd taken. Cut deeper, somehow. She wasn't crying loudly. Just small, silent tears that warmed the edge of his collarbone. Like they weren't meant to be noticed. But he noticed. His hand twitched, uncertain, then found its way to her back. Hovered there. Then rested gently—no pressure, no claim. Just contact. A quiet acknowledgment.
She didn't pull away. They stayed like that. One breath. Then another. Then another. The sun poured over them in long amber strands, and for the first time in what felt like years, Sunless let his body relax into the moment. Not because he felt safe. But because she was. And maybe that was enough.
The weight of everything that had happened. The tree. The explosion. The jury on the Dark Sea.
It was over they had made it, the city was with reach, he could relax, could came down, could be himself again.
At least till Fate demanded it not be be so.