One Thousand

Standing above Caster's corpse, Sunny tilted his head slightly.

Despite his expectations, there was not a lot of joy in his heart. Instead, defeating the powerful scion of a true Legacy clan left him feeling somber, and a little bitter.

There was, however, a sense of… if not validation, then at least vindication. It was as though some profound need in his soul was finally satisfied, making it more solid.

Steady.

With a pained groan, Sunny took a step back, turned around, and dismissed the Weaver's Mask.

He was in better shape than he had expected to be. Countless cuts on his body were painful, but not dangerous. Blood Weave was diligently doing its job, preventing him from losing too much of the precious red liquid. The cuts were already starting to scab over and close.