"The Farewell and the Whisper in the Void"
The morning air over Valmor City was crisp and calm. Sunlight spilled gently across the cobblestone streets as merchants opened their stalls and children chased each other between alleyways. Amid this peaceful dawn, Aryan walked through the city square — his steps slow, almost reluctant.
Today was different.Today, Roy was leaving Valmor.
Aryan's mind replayed every moment of the past week — every scar, every lesson, every word his mentor had spoken. He could still feel the echo of their final duel, the weight of Roy's blade, and the warmth of the insignia resting in his pocket.
He reached the Council Office, the tall marble structure where his journey had first begun. The guards at the entrance recognized him instantly and stepped aside. Inside, he found Roy standing near the grand staircase, talking with a few council members, his travel bag slung over his shoulder.
When Roy turned, he smiled faintly.
"I was wondering if you'd come to say goodbye, kid."
Aryan nodded, trying to hide the heaviness in his voice.
"Of course, sir. You're… really leaving Valmor?"
Roy gave a firm nod.
"My duty calls me to another city. Chaos doesn't rest, and neither can we."
He placed a hand on Aryan's shoulder, his grip steady, reassuring.
"Don't forget what I taught you, Aryan. Training doesn't end just because the teacher's gone. The real test starts now — out there."
Aryan hesitated for a moment, then asked softly:
"Officer Roy… before you go, I want to ask something."
Roy raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead."
Aryan took a breath. "Did you… know my father?"
At that, the air around them seemed to still. Roy's expression changed — calm eyes darkening with memories long buried. Without replying immediately, he glanced toward the council guards nearby and then motioned for Aryan to follow him.
They stepped outside to a quiet courtyard behind the building — a secluded place where the wind whispered through old trees.
Roy spoke first, his voice low and heavy.
"Yes. I knew your father."
Aryan's heart skipped. "You did?"
Roy nodded slowly.
"He was one of the bravest officers the Council ever had. A man of principle and fire. He… inspired many, including me."
Aryan's gaze softened, hope flickering. "Then you must know what happened to him — to my family six years ago."
But Roy's expression turned cold, distant, as if something deep inside him locked shut.He looked Aryan straight in the eyes.
"Aryan… no matter what you hear, no matter what you suspect — do not dig into that past."
Aryan frowned. "Why?"
Roy's tone sharpened, carrying an edge of pain.
"Because if you do… you won't survive. There are truths in this world darker than death itself."
A heavy silence followed.Then, softer — almost trembling — Roy added:
"I already lost one son of mine to that same darkness. I don't want to lose another."
Aryan blinked, stunned. "Another… son?"
But Roy turned away, hiding whatever emotion lingered behind his eyes.He straightened his coat, then placed his gloved hand gently on Aryan's head — a rare gesture of warmth.
"You've grown stronger, Aryan. Hold on to that strength. When you reach Elden Continent, do your best — and remember, your father's fire still burns in you."
Aryan nodded silently, understanding that Roy had said all he could.Roy smiled faintly — the kind that hides more sorrow than peace.
"If fate allows, I'll come to Elden to watch your exam. Until then… survive."
And with that, Roy walked away — his figure fading into the bustling morning crowd until he disappeared from sight.
Aryan stood alone in the courtyard, wind rustling through his hair.He wanted to call out, to ask what Roy truly meant, but the words never came.
Nightfall — The Voice Returns
That night, Aryan lay in his small rented room, staring at the wooden ceiling. The world outside was quiet — only the faint hum of night insects and the distant ringing of the city bell echoed through the air.
He closed his eyes.
And then — darkness.
He was falling again.
Falling into that same eternal black void — the one he thought he had escaped.But this time, it was different.
A faint glow shimmered before him. Slowly, a figure emerged from the shadows — humanoid, pure white in color, with two hollow black eyes that pierced through the emptiness.
The voice echoed — deep, resonant, ancient.
"Finally, we meet in person, Aryan."
Aryan's heart pounded. "You… you're the one who spoke to me before."
The figure smiled faintly — or something like it.
"I watched your training. You've done well. You surprise even me."
Aryan clenched his fists. "Why did you bring me here again? Did I die?"
The figure laughed — a sound like echoing thunder in a void.
"No, child. You are very much alive. I brought you here because you are awakening. The more you train, the more our souls align."
Aryan's eyes narrowed. "Then who are you?"
The white figure tilted its head.
"You already know the answer… for I am your reflection — the Copy Soul itself. The other half of what you are destined to become."
Aryan took a step forward, unafraid now. "Why me?"
The figure's eyes glowed faintly, voice soft yet commanding.
"Because only those who have lost everything can bear the power to understand all things."
Then it turned away, its form beginning to dissolve.
"Be prepared, Aryan. Your path begins at Elden. There, your true trial awaits."
The void shattered — and Aryan gasped awake in his bed, drenched in sweat.The moonlight slipped through his window, silver and cold.
He stared at his trembling hands.
"The Copy Soul… spoke to me…"
He exhaled, then stood up, determination lighting his eyes.
"Two weeks left. I can't waste a single day."
The Last Two Weeks in Valmor
From that moment, Aryan trained harder than ever.Morning to night — running through the forests of Valmor, sparring with wooden dummies, meditating under the falls, and pushing his soul resonance to its limit.
He practiced until his body screamed and his mind blurred.Each strike carried not just strength — but conviction.
The citizens often saw him moving across rooftops or training in silence at dawn — the boy who never stopped.By the end of the two weeks, his body was leaner, his aura steadier. The Copy Soul's presence pulsed within him, faint but harmonious.
The Morning of Departure
The sun rose over Valmor once again.Aryan packed his belongings — a small satchel, his insignia, and his sword.
He stood at the city gates, watching the distant smoke from the Valmor Port where a large Council ship waited — the one bound for Elden Continent.
As he took his first step toward the path ahead, he looked back at the city that had forged him.
"Thank you, Valmor. For everything."
And then he walked forward, his figure fading into the light of dawn —toward the ship, toward Elden,toward destiny.