Vale walked behind the chained man, the three small creatures padding silently beneath his feet like loyal shadows. The faint clinking of the chains that still bound the prisoner's wrists rang with every step, metal singing against metal, a hollow, mournful sound that echoed across the endless crimson sea. Their rusted surface caught what little light there was, contrasting beautifully with the blood-red expanse below them.
Above, the five black suns hung in the sky like unblinking eyes, their radiance casting long, dark reflections upon the waves. They watched the two travelers diligently, ensuring the prisoner of their realm never strayed from their sight.
Vale glanced back toward where the mist had once loomed. Now there was only emptiness. When it departed, it had left no trace, no corpses, no remains, not even a ripple of its passing. The monsters it had consumed were gone as though erased from existence itself. Only a single colossal arm jutted from the distant horizon, pale and motionless, like a monument carved to honor extinction. Even from miles away, its sheer scale was staggering, a testament to the incomprehensible power of the beings that once roamed this place.
"That was quite the experience, huh?" Vale murmured under his breath, his voice sounding small beneath the vast, hollow heavens.
He lifted his right arm and turned it slightly, the metal catching the strange light. The prosthetic gleamed with quiet perfection, its design simple but deliberate, each piece fitting together with unnerving precision. It wasn't merely a tool or weapon. It was alive. At least, that was what the being within the mist had told him.
He flexed his fingers. The motion was smooth, fluid, too natural for cold steel.
For every answer that creature had given him, Vale had found a dozen new questions waiting. The more he learned, the less he understood. His thoughts scattered like leaves on the wind until his gaze settled on the faintly glowing egg embedded within his arm. Its pale surface shimmered softly, exuding warmth that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.
"So it was really telling the truth," he whispered, almost reverently.
The egg had belonged to the creature in the mist, its child, it claimed. Calling that being a monster no longer felt right. It had spoken, taken a human form, even shown him something that resembled kindness. Yet its nature had been chaos, ever-shifting, unfathomable and dangerous. The child it left behind, however, was meant to be its opposite: a being of order born from disorder.
And as he held it now, Vale could feel the truth in those words.
He brushed his thumb across the smooth shell. The faint warmth comforted him, something gentle and strangely human in this desolate place. 'I'll make sure to take proper care of this one,' he thought. 'I owe that much to its parent… and to myself.'
They walked on in silence. The crimson sea rippled faintly beneath their feet, whispering as if alive. Eventually, they reached the heart of the realm, a vast, circular expanse beneath the five black suns, where the horizon itself seemed to fold inward. The air shimmered faintly with the residue of power, old and heavy.
Vale came to a stop beside the chained man and tilted his head. He hesitated, unsure how to even begin. He had fought this man countless times, died by his hand again and again, yet not once had they truly spoken. Whatever language the prisoner spoke was alien, his words indecipherable, his meaning a mystery.
Vale sighed, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "So, uh… that being in the mist told me to ask you for books on Atum theory." He paused, realizing how ridiculous the request sounded even as he said it. "Do you… have any of those lying around?"
The chained man tilted his head in silence. The obsidian mask that concealed his face betrayed nothing, yet something in his posture shifted, surprise, perhaps, or confusion.
After a long moment, he extended his hand. The air before him began to fracture, light twisting and bending as a thin blue line tore open. Reality itself split like fabric, widening into a brilliant, rippling rift.
Vale stared, eyes narrowing in disbelief. He had seen the being in the mist perform the same act, tearing through existence as if it were paper, but this man's power was supposed to be sealed.
'So it isn't just about power,' Vale thought, watching intently. 'It's about knowing how.'
The prisoner reached into the rift, his armored hand vanishing into that impossible space. When he withdrew it, two objects came with him: one, an ancient tome bound in black leather and edged with gold, its surface immaculate despite its age; the other, a simple notebook, a pen clipped neatly to its side.
Vale blinked, momentarily speechless.
"…You have got to be kidding me," he finally said, his voice cracking between disbelief and exasperation. "You could've just written things down this entire time?"
He stared at the man for a long moment, half expecting some reaction, some hint of amusement or annoyance, but the chained figure stood perfectly still, the faint glow of the suns reflecting on his dark mask.
Vale sighed, rubbing his temples. "Right. Of course. Why use words when you can rip open reality instead?"
The three little creatures at his feet chirped softly, their mirrored eyes reflecting the abyssal sky. Somewhere above, one of the black suns flickered, just for an instant, as if laughing quietly to itself.
The chained man shifted his posture, the faint clatter of metal echoing through the still air. Slowly, he raised one hand, the movement deliberate, almost languid. The heavy chains that bound his wrists rattled and scraped against each other as he lifted his arm. Then, without a word, he threw the thick book straight at Vale.
Caught off guard, Vale's eyes widened. Both his hands were already full, his right cradled the pale, faintly glowing egg, and his left gripped the armor and blade he had received from the two beings that ruled this strange realm.
'Seriously?'
Thinking fast, he dropped the armor and sword, letting them sink partway into the soft crimson sea below. His hand shot forward just in time to catch the book perfectly against his chest.
"You know," Vale said dryly, looking up at the chained man, "handing it over would've been much more polite."
The man gave a small, indifferent shrug. The chains clinked faintly as he turned away and opened his notebook instead. With a metallic click, the pen in his hand extended, gleaming faintly under the dark light.
Vale tilted his head, curiosity prickling at the edges of his thoughts. He watched as the prisoner began writing something, his movements precise and deliberate, every stroke of the pen echoing faintly in the still air. After a few moments, Vale tore his gaze away and looked down at the book in his hands.
Its leather cover was worn but immaculate, a deep, rich brown that looked almost ancient. Across the surface, embossed in golden letters, read the title:
ATUM THEORY
But it wasn't the title that made Vale's breath catch for a moment, it was the small inscription beneath it:
By Kealix von Eskarion
"Kealix von Eskarion…" Vale murmured, tracing the letters with his thumb. The name stirred something faint in his memory, something old and distant, but he couldn't quite grasp it.
He studied the book for another moment, lost in thought. Then he felt a light tap on his shoulder.
Instinct took over.
Vale pivoted sharply, his right fist already in motion, a reflex born from countless battles and deaths. But before the punch could connect, it stopped. The chained man had caught it effortlessly, his grip like iron.
The two of them froze for a moment, eyes meeting. The obsidian mask gave nothing away, but the air between them grew thick with awkward silence.
"Uh… sorry," Vale said finally, pulling his hand back.
The man released him without hesitation and extended something forward, a small, folded note. Vale blinked and took it. The handwriting was clean, sharp, and precise, almost unnervingly so. He scanned the words, realizing with growing surprise that they were written in his own language and flawlessly.
He glanced up at the man, then back down at the note.
So he can't speak my language… but he can write it perfectly.
An odd sort of admiration flickered in Vale's eyes as he began reading more closely. The note wasn't long, just a single page, but its contents were meaningful. The first section summarized key points from the Atum Theory book, noting which chapters were worth studying first.
But the second part… that was different. That part was about the egg.
Vale's eyes widened slightly as he read:
"Within the Book of Atum Theory, the most important topics are Origin, Forms of Use, and Nature. However, when it comes to caring for the Egg of the Dark Mist, there is little you must do.
The egg naturally absorbs Atum as sustenance, and this realm is one of the richest in Atum that exists. You need only keep watch for the moment it begins to hatch. The rest, it will handle on its own."
Vale lowered the note slowly, feeling the faint warmth of the egg through his arm. It pulsed softly, as if responding to the words he had just read.
He exhaled, the tension easing from his shoulders. "Well," he said quietly, almost to himself, "that's… good to know."
When he looked back up, the chained man had already returned to writing in his notebook, seemingly uninterested in Vale's reaction. The sound of pen against paper was steady, rhythmic, an oddly comforting reminder of life in this desolate world.
The crimson sea lapped quietly at their feet. Far above, the five black suns continued their silent watch, their light dim yet unwavering. Somewhere beneath their shadow, Vale turned the old book over in his hands, his mind already drifting toward the mysteries waiting within its pages.