Vale remained standing in the empty library long after Ali had vanished.
The silence pressed down on him, heavy and absolute, broken only by the faint creak of old shelves settling under their own weight. His thoughts spiraled endlessly, looping back on themselves as he tried, again and again, to piece together what Ali had told him.
'Five parts of a soul.'
His focus drifted first to Mirage.
He had known for some time now that the wolf was no longer separate from him. They had become one. And yet, Mirage still retained his own consciousness, his own will, his own voice within Vale's mind.
That realization made Vale uneasy.
If Mirage still thought independently… then what about the others?
Were the remaining fragments of his soul the same? Sentient? Aware? Were they living lives of their own, people or creatures untouched by Vale's existence, free from the burden of his return? Or were they like Mirage had been, waiting, watching, enduring until the moment Vale would come for them?
Vale lifted a hand to his chin, eyes unfocused as the questions multiplied.
"And what did Ali mean by control…?"
The word echoed in his thoughts.
Slowly, Vale's mind drifted back to the moment he had first come into contact with Mirage. Back to that first, unstable union. And with it came a realization so sudden that he stopped breathing for a moment.
Ali hadn't been lying.
Or at least, not entirely.
When Vale had returned from healing Chimare, when he had supposedly become one with Mirage for the first time, he had done something unprecedented.
Something impossible.
He had manipulated raw Atum.
Vale's steps slowed, then halted completely.
He had never done that before. Not once. Raw Atum was volatile, unshaped, unfiltered, something no sane being would even attempt to touch without a plane to anchor it.
Yet he had.
Vale covered his mouth slowly as he began to pace in tight circles, his boots echoing softly against the stone floor.
"Is that… a coincidence?" he murmured.
The more he thought about it, the less plausible that idea became.
Mirage did represent control, but not in the conventional sense. Not restraint. Not discipline over action.
Mirage had given Vale a limited form of control over Atum itself.
Not because that was Vale's true power, but because his true power lacked its proper governing force.
Without full control, Vale's abilities had no choice but to manifest indirectly. To reach for raw Atum instead of whatever refined force he was truly meant to wield.
But that explanation raised another problem.
Very few beings in existence could manipulate raw Atum.
In recorded history, only those who had unlocked Nirvana, and mastered it to an extraordinary degree, had ever done so.
There were only three known individuals capable of such a feat.
Vale stopped abruptly.
His eyes widened as the realization struck him, followed by a long, slow exhale.
"…I'm one of them."
The words felt strange on his tongue.
He had forgotten.
Somehow, completely and utterly, he had forgotten that he had already unlocked Nirvana during his first trial.
But instead of bringing clarity, the realization only deepened the confusion.
If his power was truly unique, then what did that mean?
Was he independent of planes entirely? Did he possess a plane of his own? Or was his power something that existed outside the established structure altogether?
Ali was a godlike being. If he claimed Vale's abilities were unique, then surely that meant they were not bound by planar rules.
'Plane-independent...' Vale thought grimly.
His eyes narrowed as he let out another heavy sigh.
"Then why did I have a trial?"
The question echoed unanswered.
The only explanation that made even partial sense was that his power functioned similarly to that of Visora Organ bearers. Perhaps Vale wasn't connected to a plane, but was still subject to trials by some other mechanism entirely.
Yet even that theory unraveled almost immediately.
He had an enigma.
It had controlled him once. Overpowered his will. Twisted his actions.
That alone should have proven he was bound to something.
Unless…
Unless that thing hadn't been an enigma at all.
Vale's gaze dropped to his mechanical arm. The metal reflected the dim light faintly as he spoke in a low voice.
"Was it you, Zellion?"
The arm, of course, did not respond.
It couldn't.
Zellion had already explained that where Vale currently existed, his voice and powers could not reach. At least not directly. Still, the arm functioned perfectly, responsive, precise.
That alone was a small comfort.
Vale exhaled, rubbing his temples as the spiral of thoughts finally condensed into a single, unavoidable question. One he had asked himself countless times before, but never with this level of clarity.
"What am I?"
The question lingered in the air.
Then something else caught his attention.
Vale's eyes shifted toward a small pile of books stacked haphazardly in the corner, just beside one of the taller shelves. He stared at them for a moment before letting out a quiet breath.
'I won't figure this out by standing here,' he thought.
He walked toward the pile slowly, having reached at least one concrete conclusion.
Mirage's "control" referred to the restraint Vale would eventually need over his true power, whatever it was, to prevent it from running wild. Without it, Vale suspected, the consequences would be catastrophic.
And Ali had said something else. Something far more troubling.
That Vale's soul had split 'because he survived'.
Whatever had happened to him, whatever he had endured, it was now more important than ever to uncover the truth.
Vale reached the books and noticed a folded note resting neatly on top.
He picked it up, unfolded it, and read it aloud, a faint chuckle escaping him as he did.
"Hey Vale. I figured you might want these books. They all belong to this library, so make sure you finish them before you leave again. Much love, Ali."
Vale folded the note and let out a smug grin.
"…You smug bastard."
Vale slowly knelt beside the pile of books and picked up the first one, settling into a seated position on the cold library floor. The silence around him felt deliberate now, as though the library itself were watching, waiting to see which truths he would uncover.
One by one, he examined the volumes.
His fingers traced the spines as he checked their titles, carefully gauging the kind of knowledge Ali had left behind for him.
The first book dealt with Atum, its nature, its volatility, and the laws governing its existence.
The second focused on gods, written in dense script and layered with annotations that suggested more questions than answers.
The third covered spawn and planes, outlining classifications, origins, and the fragile balance between realms.
Vale lifted the fourth book from the stack.
The moment his eyes landed on the title, they widened.
"…Just what I needed."
A slow smile crept across his face as he read the worn lettering embossed on the cover.
Eidolons.
His grip tightened slightly.
Zellion was an Eidolon. That much he already knew. But beyond that, Vale's understanding was painfully limited. Zellion had described Eidolons as powerful beings, ancient, bound by strange laws, and ever since learning that, Vale's curiosity had grown into something closer to obsession.
Now, at last, he had answers within reach.
He opened the book without hesitation and immediately flipped past the opening chapters, skimming headings until he found what he was looking for.
'A compendium of notable Eidolons.'
The pages were old, far older than most of the texts in the library. The parchment was yellowed and brittle, cracking softly each time Vale turned a page. The scent of dust and age filled the air as he worked his way through the book slowly, carefully, as though afraid it might crumble in his hands.
Then he found it.
A ranking.
All known Eidolons, ordered by power.
Vale's eyes scanned the list from the top.
The first name stopped him, but didn't surprise him.
"Xerax."
Vale leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose.
Of course it was Xerax.
What did surprise him was not Xerax's strength, but the revelation of what Xerax truly was.
An Eidolon.
Vale stared at the entry, stunned.
Xerax was a guardian, or more accurately, a purger of the realm. A being tasked with exterminating the most dangerous spawn in existence. Vale had always known Xerax was powerful, terrifyingly so, but learning that Xerax belonged to the same classification as Zellion unsettled him deeply.
He read the title beneath the name slowly.
"Xerax, the Original Dragon of Violence and Bloodshed."
Vale lingered on the words for a long moment, letting their weight sink in.
Then, cautiously, he lowered his gaze to the second name on the list.
His breath caught.
His hands trembled slightly as his eyes locked onto the text, disbelief washing over him in waves. A stunned smile slowly spread across his face.
"You have got to be kidding me," Vale whispered.
His voice barely carried as he read the entry again, just to be sure his eyes weren't deceiving him.
"Zellion," he murmured.
"First Fragment of the Stars. Firstborn of the Eidolons."