The ocean of blood had grown quiet again.
Where moments ago it had burned like a living inferno, it now laid still, rippling softly beneath the dull reflection of the black suns above. Yet those ripples were not natural. They moved with purpose, small and deliberate, drawing closer with every passing moment.
Vale narrowed his eyes.
'It's shrinking,' he realized. The ripples were growing smaller, gentler, almost delicate now, like the surface of the sea itself was holding its breath. The centipede was returning, and just as it had once grown vast enough to devour a god, it was now dwindling back into something small enough to approach its master.
The flames that had devoured the monster had left no trace, no ash, no bone, not even a stain in the crimson waters, but Vale barely paid that any mind. His attention was fixed on the chained man, who sat silently beside him at the edge of the endless sea.
The man hadn't moved. He sat cross-legged, his posture calm and steady, the golden sun carved into his obsidian mask glinting faintly in the dim light. He could've been a statue carved from night itself, if not for the slow rise and fall of his chest.
Vale shifted his gaze to the blades that pierced the man's back and torso, glimmering faintly beneath the dark sky. They looked impossibly deep, like anchors driven through flesh and bone, yet the man carried himself with an ease that made no sense.
'He shouldn't even be able to breathe with those wounds,' Vale thought, frowning. 'So how is he still sitting like that… like nothing matters?'
He exhaled slowly, trying to push the thought away.
"Should I keep asking him questions?" he muttered under his breath, glancing at the reflection of the golden sun on the mask. The chained man gave no sign of having heard.
After a brief pause, Vale sighed, rose to his feet, and reached down to retrieve his blade from the surface of the blood. The weapon slid free with a faint hiss. He walked forward until he was only a few meters away from the chained man, then sat again, cross-legged, mirroring his posture.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Only the faint sound of rippling blood filled the silence between them.
Finally, Vale cleared his throat.
"Hey," he said. "Is it common for monsters like that to appear here?"
His voice carried softly across the still air, the question simple but weighted. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer, but he had to. Whether the creature had come for him or for something else might mean the difference between survival and damnation.
The chained man tilted his head slightly. His long, dark hair fell across the front of his mask, veiling half of the golden sun etched into it. Then, wordlessly, he nodded.
Vale let out a quiet breath of relief.
"So… not just me then," he murmured, his tone half joking, half weary. The idea that the monster hadn't appeared because of him was strangely comforting, almost enough to make him forget the heat of the flames still lingering in the air.
He was about to ask another question when something caught his eye.
A ripple.
It appeared just beside the chained man, small, circular, and oddly calm. Vale leaned forward, squinting.
"That must be the centipede," he said softly. "It's finally back."
The chained man didn't reply. Instead, he lowered one hand toward the ripple, his fingers hovering above it. The surface of the blood trembled, then split, and something small and white emerged.
It wasn't the centipede.
Vale's eyes widened. From the crimson depths, a small creature rose, a cat, its fur impossibly pure, gleaming white against the red. It stepped delicately onto the man's palm, stretching slightly before brushing its head against his hand. Its movements were fluid, graceful and completely out of place in this world of blood and ruin.
The man began to pet it, slow and gentle. The cat purred softly, curling its tail around his wrist.
Before Vale could even process what he was seeing, another ripple appeared. This time, a small black lizard leapt from the sea, landing neatly on the man's extended arm. Its body was lined with sharp metallic spikes, two of which, larger than the rest, jutted prominently from the middle of its back. The material looked the same as the centipede's metallic shell, shining faintly with the same eerie luster.
The creature chirped, a strange, rasping sound and rolled onto its back in the man's hand, kicking its tiny legs in a gesture of happiness. The chained man stroked its belly with quiet amusement.
Vale stared, dumbfounded.
"Is that… another one?" he whispered, his hand unconsciously tightening on his sword.
The white cat stretched and climbed into the man's lap, curling into a soft ball of fur and falling asleep almost instantly. The black lizard remained perched on his forearm, its eyes flicking curiously toward Vale.
Then the sea erupted once more.
With a surge of crimson spray, the centipede rose from the depths, now small enough to perch along the man's shoulders. It coiled loosely around his neck, resting its metallic head beside his mask, almost like a living ornament, a crown of silver and crimson.
Vale could only stare in stunned silence.
This man, this chained, wounded figure, was not merely powerful. He was something else entirely. The creatures obeyed him like loyal companions, like pets that adored their master.
A small, uneasy smile tugged at Vale's lips.
"Three of them," he muttered. "Of course."
He tilted his head slightly and spoke aloud, tone laced with mock humor.
"So," he said, "you had more than one, huh?"
The chained man didn't answer, but Vale could've sworn the corners of his mask lifted, ever so slightly, as if he were smiling.
Then, at last, the chained man spoke.
His voice broke the still air, not loud, not harsh, but resonant, as though it didn't pass through the air at all.
It went through Vale, through the space between flesh and spirit, and struck somewhere deep inside him.
For the first time, Vale understood him.
"These little ones," the man said softly, his tone calm, almost affectionate, "are my dear creations… aren't they cute?"
The words were simple, but to Vale, they were overwhelming. He had died more than fifty times at this man's hands, each time hearing that strange, unknowable tongue, words he could never hope to grasp. And yet, now, now he understood him perfectly.
Vale froze. His expression twisted in disbelief. His pale eyes widened, his brow furrowing as a tremor of confusion ran down his face. It wasn't fear, not exactly, but something close, an instinctive dread of something that shouldn't be possible.
The man tilted his head slightly, the faint glint of the golden sun upon his mask catching the dim light. Then he spoke again.
"Rea ouy ko?"
The words had changed, his tone the same, but the language once again foreign, unknowable. It struck Vale like a jolt of static. The brief bridge of understanding was gone as suddenly as it appeared.
Vale blinked, trying to form words. "Did… did you just talk?" he stammered. "Did you just say those things are your creations?"
The chained man seemed to study him, his head canted to one side like a curious animal. When he spoke again, it was in that same strange language:
"Uyo stdunneadr em?"
Vale let out a shaky breath. "Right," he muttered under his breath. "Back to the language I can't understand."
The chained man gave a faint shrug, as though answering his own question, or perhaps mocking Vale's confusion. His movements were effortless, almost serene, like one who no longer cared whether he was understood or not.
Vale sat in silence for a few moments, collecting his thoughts. His heart was still racing, but his mind was steadying. Slowly, he turned his gaze back toward the man and asked, in a quieter tone, "So… are you trying to teach me?"
The chained man didn't answer immediately. He simply looked at Vale, silent and unmoving. Then, after a moment, he gave a single, deliberate nod.
Vale's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. He rose to his feet, gripping his blade once more. "Then let's continue your lessons," he said, his voice calm but charged with a strange excitement.
The chained man rose as well. As he stood, the creatures upon him stirred, the white cat leapt gracefully from his lap, the black lizard slid down his arm, and the metallic centipede unwound itself from his shoulders. They scattered across the crimson surface, circling the two warriors but not retreating into the depths. It was as if they wanted to watch.
Vale noticed this and let out a faint chuckle.
"So even you lot want entertainment every once in a while, huh?" he said under his breath.
The chained man reached for the blade still lodged in the blood beneath them. The weapon emerged slowly, its bone-white surface glistening in the dim, sunless light. As he lifted it, the sea rippled around him in concentric waves, as if responding to his mere movement.
Vale raised his weapon as well.
"Ready?" he asked.
The chained man's head tilted, and he gave a single, silent nod.
Then they moved.
Two streaks of motion in the blood-red world, Vale's blade gleaming in the dull light, the man's weapon whistling through the air like wind through bone. They collided at the center of the sea, the impact echoing like thunder across the realm.
The sound of their clash reverberated endlessly, swallowed and reborn by the blood that surrounded them. And as their blades met again and again, the chained man's creatures watched silently from the shore, eyes gleaming, their small bodies perfectly still.
This world of death and blood trembled once more, awaiting the battles yet to come.