Shadow Weaver: Sole Heir Of The Night-Chapter 186: Untitled
Inside the small village, a group of four individuals walked steadily through the narrow streets, guided by a puppet no larger than an arm.
It hovered slightly above the ground, its wooden limbs moving with unnatural smoothness as though invisible threads pulled at it from somewhere unseen.
The streets were uneven, stones cracked and darkened by years of soot and something far older than smoke.
Villagers lingered in doorways and behind half drawn curtains. Their eyes drifted toward the newcomers, calm and almost bored, before sliding away as if nothing of importance had appeared.
A woman continued washing vegetables in a metal basin. A man hammered rust from a blade. Children chased one another around a well that had long since run dry.
People came and went in the under dark. Survivors were not rare.
Those untouched by corruption were simply fortunate.
"There’s something strange about this place," Raven muttered quietly, her voice low enough that only those beside her could hear.
Her eyes moved carefully from face to face.
She had seen the signs before. The faint dark veins crawling beneath the skin. The slight stiffness in movement. The hollow pause behind someone’s gaze.
Here, the corruption was deep.
Far deeper than what these villagers should have been able to withstand.
And yet they stood upright. They spoke normally. They breathed without convulsion or madness.
But something was holding it together.
"Eh, it’s not strange. Just a village," the puppet replied flatly, as though offended on behalf of the cracked houses and crooked rooftops.
Its carved head tilted back slightly.
No one liked their home being labeled unnatural.
Especially not here.
Raven hummed softly in response.
She did not argue.
The puppet did not feel like something she should provoke.
They continued forward, boots pressing against ash colored dirt that puffed faintly with every step.
The air carried a burnt scent that did not fade no matter how far they walked from the outer forest.
At the center of the village stood an old cathedral.
It rose abruptly from the ground like something forced upward rather than built.
Black stone formed its walls, charred and smooth, completely different from the clay and wood structures surrounding it.
No moss clung to its surface. No cracks showed weathering.
It looked untouched by time.
The heavy doors creaked open on their own before they reached them.
Inside, the air felt heavier.
Cooler.
A faint glow from stained glass windows painted dull colors across the stone floor. Reds and golds flickered faintly like dying embers.
A middle aged man stood near the altar, his hands clasped behind his back.
He was staring at a large portrait mounted on the far wall.
The painting depicted a figure wreathed in brilliant fire, wings of light spread wide behind him.
"Hmmm, Celestial Flames," the man muttered softly.
His voice echoed faintly within the hollow chamber.
He did not turn immediately when the group entered.
Only when their footsteps fully crossed the threshold did he shift his head.
His eyes scanned them once.
Then again.
His brows slowly drew together.
"Hm?"
The faint glow in the cathedral dimmed slightly as his gaze lingered on Enzo.
Then it shifted to Zeke.
Two rare flames stood before him.
Not common elemental fire.
Not the crude burning that consumed and destroyed.
There was weight behind them.
’Flames of creation? I’ve never heard of this before,’ the man thought, frowning deeper as he studied Enzo’s presence.
There was something unfamiliar there. Something ancient.
His eyes returned to Zeke, more certain now.
"You are the burning man?" Zeke asked calmly.
He remembered the stories whispered on Sky Planet.
A divine being cast into darkness after daring to strike a high god.
A punishment of endless night.
A flame trapped where no sun could reach.
Burning Man.
The name had traveled far.
"I’m Sky. Look at my ears. Of course I am the burning man," the man replied with mild irritation, shaking his head slightly.
His ears were long and sharp, unmistakable.
He did not need introductions.
Nor did he need foolish questions.
He could already see what Zeke represented.
"Hehe. Rude. Definitely the burning man," Zeke mocked lightly, lips curling upward.
The man exhaled through his nose.
"That old bastard is still spoiling my reputation, I see."
His gaze drifted briefly back to the portrait on the wall.
For a moment, the faint reflection of fire flickered within his pupils. Clearly he was annoyed.
" "Reputation? The new generation barely knows who you are," Zeke shrugged, his tone casual, almost dismissive.
He said it without malice, but the words still landed with weight inside the quiet cathedral.
The burning man’s eyelids lowered slightly.
Once, his name had shaken cities.
Once, armies had halted at the rumor of his arrival.
He had stood toe to toe with one of humanity’s strongest beings and survived. Not merely survived, but remained standing when the smoke cleared.
That alone should have etched him into history.
Yet history was greedy.
New wars came. New monsters rose.
The Sky accomplished greater feats in the years that followed, brighter flames that dazzled the world.
In comparison, an old rebellion against a high god became a fading tale told to children who barely listened.
No one had seen him since that day.
Legends without witnesses eventually turned into exaggerations.
"Ahh, snide brat," the burning man muttered under his breath.
There was no real anger in it.
Just a thin layer of bitterness that had settled over time.
His gaze drifted briefly toward the stained glass windows where dull reds flickered weakly.
He had once burned brighter than that.
"You guys are trying to get out, yes? I can help. Pretty easily, since you’re not corrupted yet. However, there’s a catch."
He did not waste time circling the matter.
There was no need for pride when bargaining.
The under dark was not a place where pride thrived.
Raven felt it the moment she stepped fully into the village.
The entire settlement was a wonderland balanced on a knife’s edge.
Something invisible pressed against it from all sides.
The air itself trembled faintly, as if unseen forces clawed constantly at an unseen barrier.
This cathedral was the anchor.
And the man before them was the nail holding it in place.
The corruption here had advanced far beyond what ordinary minds could endure.
Veins dark as ink crawled beneath some villagers’ skin.
Their eyes carried faint shadows that should have devoured their sanity.
Yet they spoke clearly. They farmed. They lived.
Because something was pushing back.
Because someone was burning quietly at the center.
Seeing the burning man now, Raven understood.
His strength was immense, even dulled.
The air around him shimmered faintly with restrained heat.
Not wild flames.
Controlled. Compressed.
Like a furnace sealed shut.
"I know what you want, old man," Zeke said, folding his arms. "And helping us escape is not enough to risk my life to help you."
He did not smile this time. His golden eyes were steady.
Sharp.
The burning man did not deny it, Being trapped here had limits.
His special flame usage had dulled over time.
Not extinguished, but starved.
The under dark had no true sun.
No pure source to replenish what he once wielded freely.
He needed a special fire source.
Not ordinary flame.
Something rare. Something closer to origin.
With that, he could reignite what had withered.
And perhaps break the cage that held him.
The puppet floating near the group shifted slightly, its carved fingers twitching.
Silence lingered for a moment too long.
"You misunderstand," the burning man finally said, his voice calmer now.
""I don’t need your special flames. At least not to get you out of here. Before corruption seeps into you, I’ll need something far greater than any rare fire," the burning man explained calmly.
His tone was steady, almost clinical, as though discussing a simple exchange of goods rather than escape from a cursed realm.
"The under dark is not a place one simply walks in and out of. Even a god like me cannot do that."
For a brief moment, his eyes dimmed.
There was no arrogance in his admission. Only fact.
"What I require is something that can bend this place’s laws. Something that can loosen the grip this realm has on existence itself."
The cathedral felt smaller as he spoke.
The air thickened faintly, as if the under dark itself was listening.
"That requires something better."
The words settled heavily between them.
"You..."
Zeke’s voice faltered.
It was rare for him to be caught off guard, but his mind was already racing through possibilities.
Each one more absurd than the last.
He replayed the sentence in his head.
Something greater than special flames.
Something that bends laws.
"Have you gone mad?" Zeke asked sharply, his gaze narrowing as he studied the burning man carefully.
He searched for the signs.
The faint tremor in the hands.
The glassy sheen over the eyes.
The subtle twitch that corruption always left behind.
But there was nothing.
The man’s presence was stable.
Heavy. Grounded.
And terrifyingly sane.
Which made his suggestion even worse.
"Mad? No. Quite desperate though," the burning man replied with a tired exhale.
There was no offense taken.
Desperation was not weakness here. It was survival.
"I won’t force you. I promise that much."
He turned slightly, glancing back at the portrait of blazing wings behind him.
"I will, however, offer you something you cannot refuse."
His eyes slid back to Zeke.
"At least, I know your master would not refuse it."
The puppet near them stilled completely.
Even Raven felt her heartbeat slow.
There was something dangerous in the way he said master.
Not mocking.
Knowing.
"How would you like to own a god?"
Silence swallowed the cathedral.
The faint glow from the stained glass seemed to flicker uncertainly.
Zeke stared at him without blinking.
Own.
Not ally.
Not bargain.
Own.
The burning man did not smile.
He did not look proud.
He looked like a man who had calculated every humiliation and found it acceptable.
"If you possess what I believe you do," he continued quietly, "then you have the means to anchor my existence. To bind it."
Outside, a low rumble rolled beneath the earth.
The barrier surrounding the village pulsed faintly.
"If I remain alone, I will eventually burn out."
His voice softened, not with fear, but with inevitability.
"And when I do, this place will collapse."
The implication lingered in the air.
Not just for the village.
But for whatever waited beyond its fragile protection.
