Shadow Slave: Flaw of Gods.

"I respect strength. What's your name?"

Veil was breathing heavily, staring up at the black, empty sky.

He had survived. Again.

Something burned in his chest, and every movement sent a dull ache through his body. He coughed, and a crimson veil spread across his palm.

"Veil. My name is Veil."

The stranger stepped closer, his black kimono blending with the night's shadows. Without another word, he extended his hand and then, without any effort, lifted him onto his shoulder as if Veil weighed nothing at all.

"Not a bad name," he smirked.

Veil frowned. So he wasn't planning to introduce himself?

"You asked for my name. What's yours?"

The stranger held his gaze for a moment before answering calmly:

"I am a direct descendant of Miyamoto Musashi. I was named after him."

Veil furrowed his brows. Miyamoto Musashi? Who was that?… Somewhere, he had heard that name before. Long ago. A faded memory surfaced—yellowed pages, brittle with age. Perhaps this man was a descendant of one of the legacies?

"Miyamoto Musashi, huh?" Veil murmured. "Not many people still have surnames these days."

Musashi said nothing. Either he saw no need to continue the conversation, or he simply ignored him. Veil didn't care. He no longer felt like talking.

He turned his head and looked back.

The dark sea was fading into the distance, but his thoughts still pulled him back—to the body that lay among the rocks.

His first time killing a human. Veil had expected to feel something more. Regret. Guilt. Pain. But… he didn't.

He had seen death before. He had even died himself.

The blond had simply wanted to survive. Just like him.

Veil sighed and closed his eyes.

"Hey… Musashi. What was that blond guy's name?"

Musashi didn't even glance back.

"He's dead. Does it matter?"

"Yeah… He's dead," Veil echoed quietly.

Silence followed. Only the rustling of footsteps in the sand and the steady murmur of the waves filled the air.

Then Musashi spoke:

"His name was Tim."

Veil nodded. Tomorrow, he would bury him.

But not today.

A gust of wind swept in from the sea, cutting to the bone. It was cold, like the hands of the dead.

Veil closed his eyes, listening as the crashing waves merged with the breath of the night.

***

A few minutes later, Musashi set him down on a makeshift bed of leaves beneath a broad palm tree. Veil couldn't help but notice him mumbling something under his breath, but he paid no attention.

He knew he could no longer use his ability without consequences. So he surrendered—and once again entered himself.

Cold prickled his skin like an icy needle. Pain flared up—sharp, pulsating—from the brutal fight with Tim. Along with the pain came a wave of emotions. Exhaustion weighed on his body, dulling his thoughts, but more than anything, he felt… sadness.

And yet, he felt alive.

He had never thought he would experience relief after killing someone. But now, staring through the gaps in the leaves at the night sky, Veil realized—he was glad to be breathing. Glad that his heart was still beating.

He closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.

***

When he opened them again, the world was drenched in deep blue.

That familiar, unsettling weightlessness returned. But now, everything was different. The world, once blurred and hazy in the darkness, suddenly came into sharp focus. The ocean was no longer just a formless void—it was vast, terrifyingly real.

Veil hovered in the air, slowly gliding toward the spot where Tim's body had lain.

He didn't even know why he was doing it.

Memories of the battle flashed before his eyes: the furious strikes, the shattering armor, the sickening crunch of breaking bones.

Tim had been human, too. He had wanted to live. And in the end, that very desire had led him to his death.

When Veil finally reached the place…

The body was gone.

He froze.

At first, he thought Musashi had buried Tim. But no—he had been walking in the opposite direction, toward the shore.

Veil scanned the ground, searching for any disturbance. The sand was untouched—no drag marks, no footprints leading away.

"Did Tim survive?"

His chest tightened.

If that was true, then Tim likely didn't harbor any warm feelings toward him.

Veil quickly scanned the island. No one.

The only explanation—Tim had thrown himself into the sea. There were faint traces in the sand, almost erased by the waves.

He approached the water's edge and peered into the abyss.

Swimming across this endless black ocean? With no food, no weapons, no protection?

Insanity.

But if Tim had really gone into the water, he probably didn't survive.

Veil sighed. He had wanted to bury him.

It was a strange desire. He felt no guilt, no remorse. But Tim had been his first enemy. And in this ruthless world, where life flickered and died in an instant, even enemies deserved a final resting place.

He looked at the empty spot where Tim should have been.

Tomorrow, he would dig him a grave.

Even if there was nothing left to bury.

***

With the first rays of sunlight, Veil squinted, his eyes struggling to adjust to the blinding white light. He took a deep breath—the air was fresh, slightly salty.

So there really was a sun here.

Nearby, Musashi sat, lazily twirling a small stone between his fingers. He glanced at Veil with little interest, noting that he was finally awake.

"You need to see something," he said flatly, as if announcing an ordinary task.

Veil exhaled, reluctantly pushing himself to his feet. Every movement sent a jolt of pain through his body, his muscles ached, but he had learned to endure.

Musashi led him to the very edge of the island.

Veil lifted his head—and froze.

Somewhere deep in his mind, he had been certain—before him should have been the sea.

But there was no sea.

Instead, a sheer cliff dropped down into the depths. This was a mountain—the island was its peak. And below lay a forest… no, not a forest.

Blood-red corals.

They intertwined like massive arteries, growing straight from the earth. Their shapes were unnatural, alien, and their dark crimson hue looked like frozen blood. Twisted and tangled, they stretched endlessly into the horizon.

Some corals had fused into the rock, piercing it with their rigid branches. Others spiraled upward like distorted columns, merging into a monstrous labyrinth.

Veil felt a wave of nausea.

This shouldn't exist.

He instinctively pinched his cheek. No, this wasn't a dream.

"I'm going down there," Musashi broke the silence. "To find food."

Veil turned to him sharply.

"Are you insane?"

"Now is the best time," Musashi replied calmly, adjusting his kimono. "Before I grow weaker from hunger. While I still have energy."

Veil wanted to argue but fell silent.

It was a rational decision. Even if he didn't like it.

"Fine," he exhaled.

***

Even while he was asleep, Veil had noticed a few places that might be suitable for shelter. One of them turned out to be a small but dry cave.

He moved the makeshift beds of leaves there, along with some of the things Musashi had managed to gather.

Now all he could do was wait… and worry.

The only thing he could do was fall asleep and check on Musashi.

***

As soon as he closed his eyes, his body relaxed, and Veil felt the familiar weightlessness.

The world once again took on a deep blue hue.

He drifted above the island, trying to find Musashi amidst the coral labyrinth.

Somewhere in the distance, a deep, unfamiliar sound echoed…

Soon, Veil found him—and what he saw made him tense up.

Musashi was fighting three monsters—their chitinous shells seemed harder than the stone that had covered Tim's body. Each one moved with terrifying speed, and their attacks were precise and deadly. One of them already lay dead, but the cost of that victory had been high.

Musashi was breathing heavily, his clothes clinging to his sweat-drenched body, and his sword seemed to have become an extension of his arm. His muscles trembled with exertion, but the smile on his face never faded.

"Come at me all at once, you wretched beasts!" he shouted, his voice full of challenge, cutting through the air.

The monsters, as if understanding his words, roared and charged at him simultaneously.

Veil couldn't wait.

He rushed toward Musashi, merging with his body. The moment their essences intertwined, everything changed.

Muscles became stronger.

Joints—more flexible.

Reactions—sharper.

Veil felt their minds intertwining, but he refused to lose himself.

"Forgotten Spark… Forgotten Spark… Forgotten Spark…" he repeated over and over, holding onto his identity, refusing to let Musashi consume him.

Yet, despite his resistance, he saw, felt, and thought as Musashi did.

Musashi wasted no movement. His body existed in perfect harmony with the fight. When he needed to dodge—he dodged. When he needed to strike—he struck. Every motion was flawless, every action—perfect.

But the most terrifying thing wasn't even that.

He saw.

He saw absolutely everything.

The world slowed. Every drop of water evaporating from the monsters' bodies became visible. Every speck of dust floating in the air. Even his own sweat, falling downward.

He was aware of his position in space so clearly that he could have said where every single hair on his body was.

He heard the faintest rustling of claws against stone.

He felt every shift in the air as the blade cut through it.

And he fought.

Veil was stunned.

He thought he knew what it meant to be in the flow of battle. He was wrong.

When Veil entered a trance-like state, only one thing existed for him—the enemy he had to destroy. Everything else faded away.

But Musashi saw everything.

He didn't focus on a single opponent. He saw every detail of the battle.

And now, being inside his body, Veil saw it too.

Musashi wasn't human.

Now, he was a monster.

But the most terrifying thing of all…

His reaction.

It wasn't just fast.

It was… instantaneous.

He could react to everything he saw in an instant.

No hesitation. No delay. No mistakes.

Veil, now merged with him, finally understood—it was an Aspect. And he realized the full horror and potential of this ability.

Time wasn't slowing down.

He was speeding up.

Every tiny movement of his enemies was analyzed the moment it happened.

Every twitch of their claws, every muscle contraction, even the slightest shift in their posture—he saw it and knew what would happen next.

This wasn't a sixth sense.

This was absolute control over perception and reaction.

The moment one of the monsters' claws moved a millimeter in preparation for a strike, Musashi was already dodging.

The instant another adjusted its center of gravity to leap, he was already stepping aside.

This wasn't just speed.

This was the total elimination of the gap between awareness and action.

If someone swung a sword at him, he didn't just see it—his body was already moving before the blade had finished its arc.

If someone tried to attack from behind, he was already turning before the strike was complete.

And it applied to everything.

If he saw, heard, or felt it—he was already reacting.

Veil had fully merged with Musashi's body.

But most importantly—he had gained his reaction speed.

And now, he saw everything.

Three monsters surrounded him.

Their grotesque, lipless mouths twisted into unnatural grimaces. Their claws snapped hungrily, striking against each other with the force of a vise.

And then they attacked.

The first—head-on.The second—from the right.The third—from the left.

Like wolves.

Like intelligent predators.

Their segmented legs dug into the ground, leaving dents in the stone. Heavy bodies moved with beastly speed, their shells flashing in the sunlight, but Musashi saw them as if they had slowed down.

He didn't think.

He just moved.

The first monster swung its claw.

Straight for his head.

Musashi didn't wait for the strike.

Dash.

The claw sliced through the air above him. But in the next instant, the other two monsters were already attacking.

One aimed for his legs.

The other struck at his side.

Musashi already knew.

He shifted his momentum mid-air.

Roll.

Stone exploded into shards as the scythe-like limb of the second monster crashed into the ground.

But the third didn't miss.

A claw grazed his shoulder, tearing through fabric.

Pain.

But not fatal.

He didn't waste time.

Musashi stepped forward.

Dash.

His blade was already in motion.

The sword flashed through the air. It found a weakness.

A thin gap between the chitin plates on the first monster's chest.

Slice.

The blade slid in effortlessly—like wax beneath a heated knife.

But it wasn't enough.

The monster roared, its shell slowing the sword's momentum, but it didn't matter.

A flick of the wrist, and the blade drove in deeper.

One.Twist.Pull.

The monster split open like a ruptured sack.

Black ichor gushed out, soaking the ground.

[You have killed an Awakened Beast, the Carapace Scavenger¹]

One was down.

But the remaining two didn't stop.

They attacked at once.

Claws. Scythes.

They were everywhere.

Musashi dodged.

Step back.Lean sideways.Jump away.

But they kept pressing forward.

And in one moment, their attack angles aligned.

Their claws left him no room to evade.

So he did the only thing he could.

He attacked.

One.Two.Three strikes in a single instant.

A claw fell to the ground.

The monster roared, staggering.

But it still had another arm.

The claw lunged.

Musashi cleaved it in two.

The body convulsed.

And collapsed.

[You have killed an Awakened Beast, the Carapace Scavenger].

Only one remained.

The most cautious one.

It didn't attack.

It waited.

Musashi took a step forward.

The monster lunged.

Its claws snapped through the air, but it was already too late.

The blade slipped cleanly between the narrow slits that served as the creature's eyes.

It froze.

A shudder.

Emptiness.

[You have killed an Awakened Beast, the Carapace Scavenger].

[You have received a Memory: Vial of Slime.]

The body collapsed.

***

Silence.

Only heavy breathing remained.

Musashi had survived.

He didn't tremble.

But the tension clenched his lungs.

His hand still gripped the sword, his fingers numb from strain.

He lifted his gaze and looked at the sun. The sunset was near.

There was almost no time left.

Gritting his teeth, he bent down and grabbed two of the monsters' corpses. Their shells were heavy, their limbs dragged against the rocky ground, leaving deep grooves.

Step.

Another step.

Every movement was difficult, his muscles burned from exhaustion, but he couldn't afford to stop.

The bodies of the third and fourth monsters remained behind.

He couldn't carry them all.

Even if he tried—he wouldn't make it in time.

And if he didn't make it, if the sunset caught him here…

The black sea would swallow him without a trace.

Musashi wasn't a fool.

So he kept moving.

And he moved fast.

At that moment, Veil finally left his body.

[Carapace Scavenger¹:

A creature two and a half meters tall, looking like a weird mix of a demonic crab, a centaur, and a nightmare. it had four pairs of long, segmented legs that ended in scythe-like protrusions. At the front, a human-like torso was protruding from the carapace, also clad in thick chitinous armor. The head was situated directly on top of the torso, with no neck in between. It had two narrow eye slits and a viscous-looking mouth with several slimy mandibles. Instead of hands, the monsters had two enormous pincers.]