Vale stared at the door for a long time.
Slowly, he lifted a hand to his face, fingers brushing his cheek as memory resurfaced, sharp, violent, not easy to forget.
The last time he had stood before the shade of Leo Lionheart, he had died.
Or at least… he should have.
The image was still vivid. The way the shade had moved. The sheer, overwhelming force behind it. The single strike that had shattered his skull as if it were nothing more than brittle stone.
Vale swallowed.
'Am I really going to risk my life again?' he thought. 'For a possibility?'
Nothing was guaranteed. There was no promise that fighting the shade would return his memories. It wasn't written into fate. It had happened once, but what if that had been coincidence? What if it had been nothing more than a fluke?
And even if he did regain some his memories…
What good would they be if he died in the process?
Vale took a slow step back.
Then another.
Until his legs brushed against the edge of his bed.
With a sharp motion, he unhooked his spear and tossed it aside. The bone-like shaft struck the stone floor with a hollow echo that rang through the room before fading into silence.
Vale sat down heavily.
He stared at the door again, unmoving, his thoughts circling the same unbearable question.
"Am I really going to risk my life…" he murmured, "…for a small possibility?"
He looked inward, searching himself for the answer.
Was he the kind of person who would gamble everything for the truth?
Was he content living as he was now, alive, functioning, but hollowed out by what had been taken from him? Or was he starving for answers, desperate to know who he had been, what had been done to him, and why?
Vale pressed his palm against his face, biting his lip hard.
He already knew.
The hunger was there. Deep. Relentless.
Knowing that something had happened to him, something horrific, without knowing what it was gnawed at him like a disease. It itched beneath his skin, spread through his thoughts, refused to be ignored.
If he never learned the truth… could he really live the way he wanted?
And even if he did learn the truth, would that grant him peace?
Vale looked back up at the door, pale eyes narrowing.
"…I already know that answer," he whispered.
Neither path would give him the life he wanted.
He didn't even know what kind of life he wanted yet.
Knowing forbidden truths would paint a target on his back. Ignorance, on the other hand, would rot him from the inside out. Neither option was safe. Neither was kind.
And even if he recovered his memories, what then?
What if he remembered what scarred him?
What took his arm?
What shattered his soul and erased his past?
Vale clenched his teeth.
"Damn it!" he shouted, the sound ripping through the quiet room.
His breath came ragged, chest rising and falling as he forced himself to calm down. Slowly, deliberately, he inhaled, then exhaled.
Finally, he stood.
"…Alright," Vale muttered, resolve hardening in his voice. "Let's do this."
He stepped forward.
One step.
Then another.
Until he reached the door.
Vale wrapped his hand around the handle, eyes narrowing as he focused on his destination, not the room beyond, but the place he feared most.
The arena.
The place where Leo Lionheart's shade had been summoned.
The door opened.
Dim light spilled in.
Vale stepped through.
The arena was circular, vast, and barely illuminated. Torches burned weakly along the walls, their flames flickering as if struggling to exist. Shadows pooled across the stone floor.
At the center of the arena knelt a figure.
One knee pressed into the ground.
A massive greatsword embedded beside it.
The shade.
It looked as though it were kneeling before an unseen king, patient, unmoving, almost as if he was waiting.
Vale swallowed.
His body reacted before his mind could stop it. Muscles tensed. Heart rate spiked. The trauma of their last encounter surged through him like lightning.
Still, he stepped forward.
The moment his foot touched the stone, the shade responded.
Crimson light ignited where its eyes should have been.
Slowly, deliberately, it lifted its head.
The gaze that met Vale's was not human.
It was predatory.
Like a lion staring down prey.
The shade did not rise. It simply watched, waiting.
Vale halted, studying it carefully. His curiosity outweighed his fear, just barely.
Then, an idea formed.
A stupid one.
A dangerous one.
His eyes drifted to the blade at his waist.
"…Maybe," Vale whispered.
He grasped the hilt.
The shade reacted instantly, its grip tightening around its greatsword, the metal groaning softly under the pressure.
Vale raised one hand in a clear gesture of peace.
Slowly, deliberately, he drew his blade from its scabbard and held it out where the shade could see it.
The shade tilted its head, confusion flickering through its posture.
"That's it," Vale said quietly.
Then he threw the blade.
The weapon skidded across the stone floor and clattered to a stop on the far side of the arena, the ringing echo of steel resonating through the space.
The shade's gaze followed the blade.
Then it turned back to Vale.
Its crimson eyes narrowed.
Vale offered a weak smile.
"So," he said softly, raising both hands to show he posed no threat, "you aren't just a brute."
He began walking forward, slowly, carefully.
The shade rose in response, its towering form unfolding until it stood fully upright. It was massive, nearly two meters tall, its frame far broader and heavier than Vale's own. Power radiated from it in oppressive waves.
Yet, its grip on the greatsword loosened.
Vale stopped two meters away.
He tilted his head slightly, studying the shape of the shadow, the way it mimicked him without being him.
The shade tilted its head in the same way.
Vale's eyes widened a fraction.
"…Are you curious as well?"
The arena remained silent.
But the question hung between them.
Slowly, Vale began to move.
He circled the shade at a measured pace, boots scraping softly against the stone floor as he walked. His posture was cautious but not defensive, curiosity guiding his steps more than fear. The shade's gaze followed him, crimson eyes tracking every movement with quiet precision, yet its body remained perfectly still, as though rooted to the arena itself.
Vale tilted his head as he studied it more closely.
Up close, the shade was even more imposing.
This was no ordinary human, had never been one. The frame alone was unmistakably superhuman. Broad shoulders. A powerful torso. Every muscle sharply defined despite the body being composed entirely of shadow, as if strength itself had been etched into its form. Even without clear features, its presence was overwhelming.
The face offered nothing. No mouth. No eyes beyond the glowing crimson points. No expression to read.
Recognition through appearance alone was impossible.
Vale let out a faint scoff as he completed the circle and returned to his original position in front of the shade.
"You really are impressive," he said quietly. "Aren't you?"
For a moment, the shade did nothing.
Then, slowly, it shrugged.
Vale froze.
His eyes widened slightly.
"…You understand me?"
The shade looked at him with what could only be described as mild confusion, then nodded once.
Vale's breath hitched.
"That makes things a lot easier," he said, disbelief creeping into his voice. "Can you talk?"
The shade tilted its head, then shook it. It crossed its arms, the motion deliberate and unmistakably human.
Vale stared for a moment before lifting a hand to his chin, gaze dropping as he processed the exchange.
"I see," he murmured.
His thoughts drifted back to the sheer power the shade had displayed during their last encounter. The speed. The force. The utter finality of that single blow.
Vale looked up again.
"Do you still have your original memories?" he asked.
The shade shook its head almost immediately.
Vale exhaled through his nose, disappointment flickering across his face.
"…Figures."
He hesitated, then pressed on, his voice steady but careful.
"Your power," Vale said. "Is there a technique behind it?"
The shade's crimson eyes narrowed.
For a heartbeat, the air between them tightened, charged with something sharp and dangerous. Then, slowly and deliberately, the shade nodded.
Vale's eyes widened again, only briefly, before narrowing in thought.
He raised his hand to his chin once more, staring at the shadow as his mind raced. If there was technique, then the power wasn't mindless. It wasn't brute force.
It could be learned.
Vale let out a deep, steadying sigh.
Then, without warning, he shifted his stance.
His feet spread slightly. His weight lowered. His posture sharpened into something unmistakable, a combat-ready position. Not aggressive, but prepared. Intentional.
The shade stared at him, its expression unreadable, confusion evident in the slight tilt of its head.
A bead of cold sweat traced its way down Vale's temple.
He swallowed.
Then spoke.
"Teach me."