Beneath the five black suns of a vast realm drowned in blood and violence, Vale sat cross-legged on the shifting surface of the crimson sea. His posture was steady, almost meditative, as he diligently flipped through the pages of yet another ancient tome. All around him, towers of books rose like uneven monuments, thousands of them, all already read, studied, absorbed.
Beside those piles rested a reptilian creature. Though still young, it had grown significantly, now reaching almost to Vale's waist at the shoulder. Its body was supported by two powerful, muscular hind legs, while the two smaller front limbs moved with quick, precise agility. Jagged teeth jutted from its mouth at odd angles, and its scales shimmered a celestial white, reflecting every faint shimmer of the five black suns above. Most striking of all were its eyes, constantly shifting in color, never settling, like a storm trapped behind glass.
This creature was Ember, still far from fully grown, yet already formidable.
Before them, the chained man lounged upon his crimson throne, one arm resting lazily against the blood-red surface. A novel hovered in his hand, one he had casually summoned to keep himself entertained. The obsidian mask covering his face revealed nothing, not a single flicker of emotion, though boredom radiated from him as clearly as heat from a forge.
Eventually, his gaze drifted from his book to Vale, who was turning the pages of a particularly thick volume with solemn focus. Minutes passed, perhaps hours, before Vale finally stopped. His eyes lingered on a page depicting a weapon: a chain-sword, intricately designed, each mechanical detail illustrated with precision.
Vale stared at the image, blank-faced but intensely focused.
At last, he gently set the book aside and reached into the crimson sea, retrieving a small bone-like knife.
"All right… let's try this," he murmured, his voice flat but carrying a quiet, razor-sharp determination.
He closed his eyes. His arm extended forward, holding the knife straight out before him. Every corner of his mind locked onto a single task: imagine the weapon perfectly. Every link in the chain, each serrated edge, the weight, the balance, the way it would coil and unfurl like a venomous serpent. Every detail had to be flawless. Transformation demanded precision, absolute, unforgiving precision.
And this time…
It worked.
A blinding white light engulfed the bone knife, stretching, spiraling, reshaping. Metal groaned without sound. Segments formed, linked to one another like the vertebrae of a steel beast.
When the light died, a massive chain-blade rested in Vale's hand, its form elegant yet terrifying, each segment capable of detaching to become a storm of flying knives.
Vale opened his eyes.
He swung the weapon experimentally. The links rattled like metallic thunder as the blade danced across the surface of the blood-sea, carving ripples into its surface. Ember watched silently, tail curled around its legs, while the chained man's masked gaze followed every motion.
Then the chain-blade flashed white once more,
and shifted into a chained morningstar.
Vale pulled the chain sharply, reeling the weapon through the air. Just before it reached him, it lit up again.
This time, he held a mighty trident, its three points sharp enough to part the crimson sea itself. Vale lowered it to the water, lightly tapping the surface. Concentric ripples spread outward in perfect circles.
Only then did he exhale, shoulders relaxing as pride softened his expression.
"Well… it took a while," he muttered, "but I finally managed to do it mid-combat."
He'd died countless times perfecting this skill. He had read hundreds of books, history, linguistics, sciences, combat arts. He reforged his body through death after death until it became a weapon of its own. His muscles were compact, dense, powerful enough to slow a knife strike to a crawl. His black armor clung to him like a second skin, built for speed, for precision, for war.
He had reached what many would call the apex of humanity.
And yet, when he looked at the chained man, who was now slowly applauding his progress, Vale still couldn't fully grasp the extent of the man's power. His skill had grown monstrous. He wielded nearly every weapon known, mastered martial arts beyond Vale's comprehension, and his understanding of atum made the very concept of the "Nirvana" feel like a distant, dim echo.
Even after all their battles, Vale had never seen the man truly struggle.
But he didn't despair.
A cocky grin stretched across his face.
He walked toward the crimson throne, the trident dissolving back into bone-white light as he approached.
"Hey," Vale called out, his tone half-playful, half-determined. "So… what do you say? You up for another match?"
The chained man's chuckle rumbled low and amused. He closed his book, rose slowly to his full height, and with a wave of his hand, the crimson throne dissolved back into the bloody sea.
"I am always ready, boy."
In an instant, the chained man summoned his bone-forged sword into his hand. White light surged along its length, and the blade elongated, reshaping into a towering spear. Vale clicked his tongue in annoyance the moment he saw it.
Of course the man could transform his weapon.
If he couldn't, Vale would have beaten him long ago, and they both knew it.
The fact that the man possessed the same ability only made every battle that much harder, that much more infuriating.
But then the chained man lowered his spear.
Vale lowered his blade as well.
At the man's feet, the three small creatures, cat, lizard, and centipede, clustered together, their bodies tense, emitting sharp, urgent cries. Their sudden agitation made Vale stiffen. Through his bond with Ember, who noticed danger long before Vale did, he felt something approaching too.
Something big.
He turned toward the far horizon, where the obsidian mountains framed the endless crimson sea. At first everything seemed calm, unchanged.
But he and the chained man kept watching.
Minutes passed, long, silent minutes, before something finally shifted.
A massive claw, jagged and dripping with dark ichor, rose above the highest mountain peak.
The chained man stepped closer until he stood beside Vale, his tone low and irritated.
"It's likely we'll see a few of them."
Vale snorted. "Well, it's not like any of them can reach us anyway."
In his time within this realm, Vale had learned the pattern. Monsters appeared, colossal, ancient and hungry, but the three small creatures always intercepted them long before they got close. "Small" was a misleading word for what they truly were. They didn't just kill the monsters.
They erased them.
As more claws reached the sky beyond the mountains, the three creatures hissed violently, the ocean trembling around them. Ember crouched low at Vale's side, eyes shifting through colors as he stared fixedly at the mountains.
"So," Vale said, still grinning, "how many do you think it'll be this time?"
The chained man touched his chin thoughtfully as another giant limb crested the horizon.
"Maybe thirty."
Vale continued staring as more shadows appeared, far more than thirty. His eyes widened, disbelief spreading across his face.
"Well… I'll be damned," he muttered.
It wasn't thirty.
It wasn't even close.
Sixty towering abominations dragged themselves over the obsidian peaks, each one a nightmare of limbs, teeth, and malformed muscle. Their collective presence twisted the air itself.
Yet Vale wasn't afraid.
Not with them present.
He knelt beside the three creatures as they rumbled and hissed in anticipation.
"Hey," Vale said, grinning with confidence, "there's a lot of them this time, more than ever. But I'm sure you three can take them all without breaking a sweat, right?"
The creatures let out excited, war-cry-like shrieks. Their bodies shimmered, then slipped beneath the crimson surface, racing toward the approaching army. Waves rippled outward behind them in three distinct trails.
Behind Vale, the chained man spoke again.
"Shall we return to our match?" he asked calmly. "I'm hoping this will be the last one."
Vale's grin sharpened into something fierce.
"I'm hoping that too."
They walked back to their previous positions. As they settled into place, both transformed their weapons. Vale reverted his to its original, familiar form, while the chained man reshaped his into a long, regal spear that hummed with power.
Ember approached, settling close to watch, his shifting eyes reflecting both warriors.
Behind them, the bloody sea roared.
Three colossal ripples surged upward, the first sign that the real battle had begun.
Suddenly, as if responding to an invisible signal, both Vale and the chained man exploded into motion, hurtling toward one another with terrifying speed.
At that exact moment, the army of monsters halted.
Then the ocean ruptured.
From beneath the waves erupted three titanic beasts:
A black iron dragon, its metal scales clashing like war drums.
A crimson centipede, coils gleaming like living blades.
A white celestial tiger, its roar shattering the silence of the realm.
They hurled themselves at the Sixty abominations with a ferocity that shook the bloody sea.
Behind them, Vale and the chained man clashed, blade against spear, each strike sharp enough to split the horizon.
Two battles.
One realm.
And none of them, not the monsters, not the beasts, not even Vale, planned to die easily.