Dunia bergetar dan berguncang ketika Cursed Tyrant dan bayangan Sacred berbenturan. Luasnya Condemnation meronta melawan pilar-pilar raksasa sutra hitam yang mengikat anggota tubuhnya, sementara Puppeteer mengangkangi dadanya, menggapai wajah raksasa itu.
Mereka tampak memegang kendali untuk saat ini, tetapi bayangan Condemnation sudah membalas. Bahkan jika ia tidak bisa memutuskan untaian sutra yang tak terhitung jumlahnya itu, ia sudah mulai... mengasimilasinya.
Segala sesuatu yang menyentuh Condemnation ditakdirkan untuk menjadi bagian darinya, dan sutra hitam pun tidak terkecuali.
Namun, apakah Puppeteer adalah sebuah pengecualian?
Sunny tidak tahu, dan ia tidak punya waktu untuk mengamati pertempuran antara para Tyrant itu — yang satu hidup, yang satu mati — dari dekat.
Sebab, satu-satunya kesempatan baginya untuk membebaskan diri dari benang tak kasat mata yang dilemparkan Puppeteer adalah sekarang, saat ngengat terkutuk itu teralihkan oleh bayangan Condemnation.
Sayangnya...
Berlawanan dengan harapannya, Puppeteer sama sekali tidak tampak teralihkan. Bahkan saat bertarung melawan musuh titenik itu, ia tetap mempertahankan kendali sempurna atas benangnya — bahkan, cengkeraman sutra mereka semakin menghimpit, membuat Sunny terhuyung-huyung di tepi jurang.
Ia bisa merasakan sisa-sisa keyakinannya terakhir terkikis habis. Ia bahkan tidak begitu yakin lagi siapa dirinya.
Begitu ia kehilangan dirinya sepenuhnya, ia benar-benar dan seutuhnya akan berubah menjadi boneka penurut dari ngengat hitam yang mengerikan itu.
'Aku... menolak!'
Saat benang tak kasat mata itu mengiris tubuhnya berkeping-keping, Sunny terus melawan mereka, memusnahkan keraguan yang meracuni pikirannya, dan berjuang untuk melepaskan diri.
Segala hal yang telah ia lakukan demi meraih kebebasan, segala yang telah ia korbankan untuk memutuskan rantainya... dan apa, ia malah akan menjadi mainan seekor serangga sialan?
Sunny mengamuk melawan keraguannya, melawan benang tak kasat mata tersebut, merobek bagian demi bagian dari dirinya sendiri untuk meloloskan diri.
Namun, apa gunanya?
Benang-benang itu tidak bisa diputus.
Semuanya terasa sia-sia.
Penderitaan itu begitu menghimpit.
'Ah...'
Ia sangat mengenal penderitaan. Dari bentangan kejam Forgotten Shore... tidak, bahkan lebih awal dari itu. Dari labirin pinggiran yang menyesakkan hingga sekarang, setiap langkah yang ia ambil selalu disertai rasa sakit yang tak tertahankan.
Itulah hidup... itulah kebenaran dari eksistensinya. Dari seluruh eksistensi. Perjuangan tanpa akhir untuk menyalakan Api, perjuangan tanpa akhir yang merupakan Api itu sendiri, tungku mengerikan yang tanpa henti melahap dirinya sendiri demi terus melahap, berjuang, dan membara.
Sebuah kutukan tanpa akhir, keji, dan menghidupi diri sendiri.
Jadi, bukankah... bukankah ini sudah cukup?
Apakah ia benar-benar harus menderita lagi? Berjuang lagi?
Berjuang...
Bukankah ia layak untuk berhenti berjuang, barang sekadar sekali saja?
Sunny menggigil, diselimuti oleh benang-benang tak kasat mata. Benang-benang itu melilitnya dengan erat, sentuhan dingin mereka menjanjikan kedamaian dan ketenangan.
'...Tidak.'
Ini belum cukup.
Ketenangan adalah sebuah dosa. Kedamaian adalah kematian.
Berhenti berjuang?
'Amit-amit!'
Sunny hanya akan berhenti berjuang ketika ia sudah mati.
Dan secara teknis ia sudah mati — jadi...
Ia tidak akan pernah berhenti.
Tidak akan pernah!
Hidup adalah sebuah perjuangan? Hidup itu menyakitkan?
'Bagus!'
Rasa sakit adalah sebuah anugerah. Selama ia masih bisa merasakan sakit, ia tahu bahwa ia masih hidup.
Lalu bagaimana jika Api butuh bahan bakar untuk membara? Sunny sendiri adalah bagian dari Api — seluruh eksistensi adalah bagian darinya — jadi untuk apa ia ingin membuat dirinya kelaparan dan padam?
Kenapa ia tidak ingin membara seterang yang ia bisa, mengejar hasratnya dengan penuh gairah, memberi makan api itu dengan kerinduannya?
Itu... adalah hidup.
Kenapa ia tidak ingin hidup?
'Ngengat sialan... enyah sana dari kepalaku, kau keparat pembohong!'
Bayangan luas itu melonjak, merobek benang-benang tersebut. Untaian sutra yang tak terhitung jumlahnya putus...
Namun tidak cukup banyak untuk membebaskannya.
Akan tetapi, dengan melawan sepenuh tenaga, Sunny berhasil membelinya waktu.
Dan beberapa saat kemudian...
Sesosok figur yang anggun tiba-tiba muncul di dekatnya, kepangan rambut panjangnya teribas angin. Slayer menghindari tendril sutra, melesat di antara mereka bagaikan seorang penari, dan mencapainya dalam sekejap.
Mendarat di atas salju dekat Sunny, ia menatapnya sekilas, mata oniksnya memancarkan kemurnian yang tulus dan mematikan.
Kemudian, pedang kembarnya terayun turun, mengiris benang tak kasat mata yang mengikatnya di tempat. Dikuasai oleh kekuatan abu, serangannya membawa kepastian yang tak terbantahkan — bilah tajam itu memotong benang sutra yang tak terhitung jumlahnya, dan seketika itu pula, Sunny bisa bergerak lagi.
Saat kedua makhluk titenik itu bertarung di lereng gunung yang retak, bayangan di belakang mereka bergejolak dan melonjak.
The world quaked and shook as the Cursed Tyrant and the Sacred shade clashed. The immense vastness of Condemnation was straining against the colossal pillars of black silk that bound its limbs, while the Puppeteer straddled its chest, reaching for the giant’s face.
It seemed to have the upper hand at the moment, but the shadow of Condemnation was already retaliating. Even if it could not break the countless strands of silk, it had already started... assimilating them.
Everything that touched Condemnation was condemned to become a part of it, and the black silk was no exception.
But was the Puppeteer an exception?
Sunny did not know, and he did not have time to observe the battle between the Tyrants — one living, one dead — closely.
Because his only chance to free himself from the invisible strings cast by the Puppeteer was now, while the accursed moth was distracted by the shadow of Condemnation.
Sadly...
Contrary to his hopes, the Puppeteer did not seem distracted at all. Even while fighting the titanic foe, it maintained flawless control of its strings — in fact, their silken vice had only grown more crushing, making Sunny reel and sway at the edge of the abyss.
He could feel the last shreds of certainty slipping away from him. He was not even entirely sure of who he was anymore.
Once he lost himself entirely, he would truly and utterly turn into an obedient puppet of the harrowing black moth.
’I... refuse!’
As the invisible strings sliced him apart, Sunny continued to fight them, to exterminate the doubt plaguing his mind, and to strive to break free.
All the things he had done to gain freedom, everything that he had sacrificed to break his chains... and what, he would become a damn insect’s toy?
Sunny raged against his doubt, against the invisible strings, tearing more and more of himself apart to escape them.
But what was the point?
The strings were unbreakable.
It was all hopeless.
The suffering was overwhelming.
’Ah...’
He knew suffering well. From the cruel expanse of the Forgotten Shore... no, from even earlier than that. From the suffocating maze of the outskirts until now, every step he took was accompanied by unbearable pain.
That was life... that was the truth of his existence. Of all existence. An endless struggle to fuel the Flame, an endless struggle that was the Flame, a terrible furnace that endlessly devoured itself to continue devouring, struggling, and burning.
An endless, vile, self-sustaining curse.
So wasn’t it... wasn’t it enough?
Did he really have to suffer more? To struggle more?
Struggle...
Did he not deserve to stop struggling, for once?
Sunny shivered, enveloped by the invisible strings. The strings were wrapped tightly around him, their cold touch promising peace and solace.
’...No.’
It wasn’t enough.
Solace was a sin. Peace was death.
Stop struggling?
’Like hell!’
Sunny would only stop struggling when he was dead.
And he was technically already dead — so...
He was never going to stop.
Never!
Life was a struggle? Living hurt?
’Good!’
Pain was a gift. As long as he could feel pain, he knew that he was still alive.
So what if the Flame needed fuel to burn? Sunny himself was a part of the Flame — all of existence was — so why would he want to starve and extinguish himself?
Why would he not want to burn as brightly as he could, to pursue his desires as passionately as he could, to feed the flame with his longing?
That... was life.
Why would he not want to live?
’Damn moth... get the hell out of my head, you lying wretch!’
The vast shadow surged, tearing the strings apart. Countless strands of silk broke...
But not enough of them to set him free.
However, by resisting as desperately as he could, Sunny did buy himself time.
And a few moments later...
A graceful figure suddenly appeared nearby, her long braid whipping in the wind. Slayer dodged the tendrils of silk, dashing between them like a dancer, and reached him in an instant.
Landing on the snow near Sunny, she looked at him briefly, her onyx eyes shining with sincere, murderous purity.
Then, her twin swords fell down, slicing through the invisible strings that bound him in place. Empowered by ash, her strike carried an undeniable finality — the sharp blades sliced through countless threads of silk, and suddenly, Sunny could move again.
As the two titanic creatures battled on the slope of the fracturing mountain, the shadows behind them seethed and surged.
"Free... Kai."
The hiss that resounded from the shadows did not sound like a human voice. It washed over the world, making Slayer take a step back.
She lingered for a moment, then dashed in the direction of a hill of black silk under which Kai was buried. Countless strings shot to bind her... but she dodged those of them that were tangible, while those of them that were so thin as to be invisible simply fell powerlessly after touching her ebony skin.
After all, Slayer had managed to survive thousands of years in the Shadow Realm. Other shadows had lost themselves to its dark expanse, but even in the embrace of death, she never did — even if her memories were gone, she always remained uncompromising, the pure nature of her unblemished spirit tolerating no doubt.
Sunny, meanwhile, rose and manifested into a towering colossus.
Well... it was a little presumptuous, to call himself a colossus when the shadow of Condemnation and Puppeteer were nearby. Compared to them, his Shadow Colossus form — even though it was taller than ever before — seemed certifiably puny.
But the power boiling inside him was anything but. Most of the sun was already hidden behind the horizon, and the mountain was enveloped in a gargantuan cocoon of black silk — surrounded by darkness, the Evening Star had almost reached its apogee.
...It was still not enough, though.
Slayer might have cut the strings binding Sunny, and he might have torn countless strings apart himself.
But more were already rushing at him, ready to pierce him and infect him with doubt.
No... to win this fight, he had to do more.
To be more.
Or be different, at least.
Sunny looked up, at the two battling deities.
And then, he did something he had been wary of... frightened of... for a long, long time.
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