My dumb life in Shadow Slave

Asher woke to the absence of everything. No light, no sound—only an endless black void pressing against him from all sides. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound emerged. His throat constricted as if the void itself had stolen his voice.

He tried to move, but his legs were leaden, frozen in place. A cold, sinking sensation twisted his gut, the nauseating impression of falling without end.

Then, a voice—a low, rasping whisper that scraped against his ears like broken glass—rose from behind him.

"Found you…"

The words reverberated through the emptiness, their echoes lingering far longer than they should. Asher's body seized in alarm, his head snapping around to find—nothing. Just more of the endless dark.

His breath quickened, or at least he thought it did. He couldn't hear it. Couldn't hear anything.

Panic clawed at him as he scanned the void, his eyes darting wildly. Then, faintly, he saw it: a distant flicker, blurred and unfocused, a light so faint it could have been imagined.

Compelled by something he didn't understand, Asher forced his gaze down. His legs, moments ago paralyzed, now trembled as he took an unsteady step forward. There was no sound—no echo, no rhythm of footsteps—only the unsettling stillness that swallowed every movement whole.

The light grew nearer, though its shape remained indistinct, like a memory he couldn't quite grasp. Finally, it hovered just below him. He stopped, staring down at its gleam through the void.

Hesitation gripped him, but curiosity outweighed fear. Slowly, he lowered himself, his chest brushing the cold nothingness beneath him. He extended a hand toward the light, his fingers trembling.

The moment his skin brushed the glow, a searing pain burned into his palm. He flinched but didn't pull back. With gritted teeth and a growl of defiance, he hauled himself upright, clutching his prize.

It was a mirror.

Asher's breath—or the memory of it—hitched. The surface shimmered unnaturally, reflecting a distorted image of himself. His features blurred and twisted, as though the glass couldn't decide what he looked like.

The pain in his hand flared, and then the reflection moved.

It smiled.

He froze. It wasn't his smile.

A grotesque sound—a deep, guttural creak—echoed behind him. Slowly, with agonizing reluctance, he turned.

The void wasn't empty anymore.

A hand, gnarled and impossibly vast, reached for him. Its jagged fingers cracked and splintered as they stretched forward, its shadow swallowing the light in his palm.

The air thickened, and his limbs locked again. He couldn't run. Couldn't even scream.

"I will come for you…"

The words didn't come from the hand, not exactly. They came from around him, inside him, spoken in a language no living creature should understand. The sheer wrongness of it made his skull thrum with pain.

Asher's mind raced, desperate for something—anything—to make sense of this.

And then it hit him.

Where was he?

***

Asher woke with a start, his eyelids heavy as if weighed down by lead. A sharp, splitting pain shot through his skull, forcing a groan from his lips. The world around him swam, disjointed and unfocused, as faint voices filtered through the haze.

"Don't show him your hands. I'm pretty sure that was the trigger," a woman's voice hissed, hushed but urgent.

"Do you think he's… lost it?" a man replied, his tone uncertain, laced with unease.

"Highly doubt it," the woman said curtly. "He mentioned having some attribute that lets him think fast. He'll piece it together soon enough."

Asher blinked slowly, the voices sharpening as the haze began to lift. His head throbbed in protest as he turned toward the source.

"Oh, he's awake."

Sunny's face came into view, wearing his usual smirk—though it looked strained this time. Asher grimaced instinctively, already regretting the sight.

"Great," Asher muttered, his voice hoarse. "How is your face the first thing I see after a nightmare like that?"

Sunny's smirk faltered, replaced by a grimace of his own. "Why are you looking at me like that, you psycho?"

Ignoring him, Asher sat up slowly, his muscles stiff and aching. Something was wrong. He could feel it, like a shadow looming just beyond the edges of his awareness.

"What happened?" he asked, though the words felt hollow. He already knew the answer wasn't going to be simple.

Sunny hesitated, glancing at Nephis, who stood nearby with her arms rigidly tucked behind her back. Asher's gaze flickered between the two of them, the dissonance in their expressions unsettling.

"Where's Cas?" Asher asked, a pit forming in his stomach.

"We moved her somewhere safe," Nephis said flatly, her tone as sharp as the ache in his head. "In case you attacked again."

Attacked?

Asher's brow furrowed, his thoughts stalling as he tried to process her words. "Attacked? What are you talking about?"

Sunny sighed heavily, but Nephis cut him off with a nod. "So you really don't remember."

Before Asher could press further, another spike of pain lanced through his skull. He staggered, clutching the side of his head as the world around him tilted. 

"Allow me to explain what happened" Nephis said.

***

"Asher!"

His eyes flew open as he jolted upright, his chest heaving with violent coughs that tore through his lungs like razors. Each gasp burned, his throat raw as if scraping against shards of glass. He clawed at the ground instinctively, searching, desperate for relief.

"Kook—ugh!" he gagged, his body lurching forward.

His eyes darted around frantically until they landed on a tiny crevice in the bone-littered floor. Without a second thought, he stumbled toward it, falling to his knees. The retching began in earnest, his insides twisting as he emptied the contents of his stomach. He coughed so hard he feared his very organs might follow.

When the spasms finally stopped, Asher collapsed against a nearby bone, his chest rising and falling in uneven, shuddering breaths. The air felt heavy, suffocating, as if the void from his nightmare had followed him here.

"Asher... are you okay?"

The voice was soft, cautious. He turned his head sluggishly and saw Nephis, her face pale and drawn with concern. Behind her, Sunny stood tensely, his eyes darting between Asher and the others. Cassie lingered further back, her small figure almost trembling.

Asher forced a weak smile, his lips cracking as he whispered, "I'm fine."

But Nephis wasn't convinced. She stepped closer, her hand extending hesitantly toward him. "Are you really? You're shaking. Do you need me to heal you?"

Asher's gaze fell on her hand, and the world seemed to twist.

The jade skin flickered—no, morphed—into something grotesque. Bulging veins, malformed fingers, and jagged claws. That thing from the void. It was here. It had followed him.

"No…" The word slipped out, trembling and weak.

The flickering intensified, the grotesque hand reaching, reaching for him.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!"

Pure terror exploded from him. The Vesture flared to life, black tendrils erupting from his skin and lashing out with violent precision. Nephis gasped, barely dodging the worst of the assault as one tendril grazed her cheek, leaving a crimson line in its wake.

Nephis' eye got a cold glint as she Summoned the dreamblade, point at Asher in a defensive stance.

Sunny, however, was less forgiving. He summoned the Azure Blade in a flash, its light burning fiercely as he stepped in front of Cassie. "Bastard, what's wrong with you?!" he barked, his stance rigid, his blade poised to strike. "Have you lost your mind completely?"

Asher didn't answer. He couldn't.

The tendrils recoiled, curling inward as his Vesture wrapped around him, forming a dense, black cocoon. He buried his head in his knees, his whole body shaking uncontrollably. His voice, muffled and trembling, slipped through the cracks.

"Stay away… stay away from me…"

Cassie's small voice broke through the tense silence. "Neph… Sunny… what's happening?"

Nephis wiped the blood from her cheek, her expression softening as she dismissed her Dreamblade with a sigh. "He's not going to attack us," she said, her tone firm yet tinged with sorrow.

Sunny's grip on his blade didn't waver. "Are you insane? He just attacked you! That thing wrapped around him—he's dangerous, Nephis!"

Nephis turned to him, her expression a mixture of calm and something deeper—something heavier. "Sunny, look at him," she said quietly. "He's protecting himself."

Sunny frowned but didn't lower his weapon. "Protecting himself? He nearly killed you!"

"He was hallucinating," Nephis said, her voice dropping. She bit her lip, her gaze distant as if replaying her own memories. "I know what that feels like. The dream gets into your head. It makes you see things."

Sunny's eyes widened. "The Dream Realm doesn't let people dream unless…" His voice trailed off as realization dawned. He turned back to the cocoon, his shadow creeping into the tiny gaps between the tendrils.

After a moment, he exhaled sharply. "He's unconscious."

***

Asher sat in silence, his thoughts racing as he processed everything Nephis had told him. Even with the assistance of [Nimble Intellect], the weight of her words pressed heavily on his mind. He exhaled deeply, forcing his nerves to steady as his gaze hardened.

"Nephis," he said quietly, "show me your hand."

Nephis hesitated, her expression unreadable, but she complied. Slowly, she extended her hand toward him.

The moment Asher's eyes landed on her outstretched hand, a searing pain ripped through his skull, as though a sledgehammer had crashed into it. Her jade skin flickered violently, shifting in his vision to that grotesque, malformed hand from before. He gritted his teeth, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to suppress the fear clawing its way to the surface.

"It's an illusion," he muttered to himself. "Just a hallucination."

But knowing didn't erase the dread.

"I need some fresh air," Asher finally said, his voice weary.

Nephis exchanged a glance with Sunny before nodding. "I'll come with you," she said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

She gestured at Sunny. "Stay with Cassie. Just in case."

Sunny grunted but gave a curt nod. Asher barely acknowledged them as he started toward the labyrinth's exit, his steps heavy and unsteady.

As they reached the ridge, Nephis glanced at him and offered, "Let's scout the west while we're at it."

Asher nodded wordlessly, the throbbing in his head making it difficult to form a response. He opted to climb manually, unwilling to risk using [Veilskin Vesture] after the last episode. Nephis reached the top with ease, her movements fluid and practiced. She secured the golden rope and threw it down.

Gripping the rope tightly, Asher climbed. When he neared the top, Nephis extended her hand. He hesitated for the briefest moment before taking it, letting her pull him onto the platform.

A strong gust of wind swept over them, cool and sharp, rustling their clothes and hair. Asher's shoulder-length white hair fluttered wildly in the breeze, and for a fleeting moment, Nephis' silver hair mirrored the motion, framing her sharp features. Their eyes met—his sea-blue gaze locking onto her own. Neither spoke, the silence thick between them.

Finally, Asher looked away, his gaze sweeping across the labyrinth. His frown deepened.

In the distance, the vibrant coral labyrinth bled into an expanse of lifeless gray. The spread of dead coral stained the landscape like an infection, stretching as far as the eye could see. Beyond that, the labyrinth's walls had crumbled into ash-colored sand, creating an eerie wasteland.

Farther still, the terrain rose sharply, forming a colossal hill—no, a mountain—crowned by an ancient, towering tree.

Asher's breath hitched at the sight of it. He knew that tree.

The bark was blacker than the abyssal waters of the dark sea, its crimson leaves rustling like whispers of blood-soaked memories. It stood tall, defiant against the barren landscape, a macabre beacon of dread.

'The damned tree,' Asher thought grimly, recalling its description from the novel. His mind raced, searching for a plan to counter its malevolent influence. Unlike Sunny, he lacked resistance to mental attacks. He bit his lip, frustration simmering beneath his calm facade.

Then, without warning, a sharp, splitting pain stabbed through his skull. He staggered, clutching his head as his vision swam.

A sound—a whisper—brushed against his ear.

Raspy. Familiar.

"Where are you?"