The children of Noir had each grasped the foundations of the Blood Blade Technique, yet as their father said, true mastery was something no one could teach — it had to be earned.
To fully control the blade meant to walk one's own path, and Valen had made his decision.
He would leave the estate.
He would see the world — train, grow stronger, and return worthy of his name.
The morning after breakfast, Valen stood outside his father's study. The old wooden doors loomed tall and silent. He straightened his coat, steadied his breath, and knocked.
Auren's voice came from within — calm, steady.
"Enter."
Valen stepped inside, bowed respectfully, and said,
"I greet the Patriarch."
Auren looked up from the papers on his desk. His eyes, sharp yet weary, rested on his son.
"I'm listening, my son."
Valen took a step forward.
"Father, I wish to depart from the estate — for training. The duties I've been handling are only the leftovers from Darien's workload, and he's more than capable of managing them alone. I… I want to be of true use to our family. Please grant me permission to leave. I will return stronger."
Auren was silent for a while, studying his son's expression. Then, quietly, he spoke:
"I give you my permission to leave, Valen. Even if you think like this, you are important to our house. Do not be reckless — and come back alive. You may leave."
Valen's throat tightened. He bowed deeply.
"Thank you, Father. I will come back — I promise."
He left the study, his heart heavy yet burning with determination.
That night, before departing, he left two letters — one for each of his siblings.
To Isolde:
My dear sister,
Because of the situation our estate now faces, I have decided to leave for a while.
Do not worry — I am no coward running from battle. I go only to train, to become stronger.
I will return before the war begins. Please take care of your health.
Sincerely,
Your brother,
Valen de Noir
To Darien:
Dear brother,
I must leave the estate if I am to grow stronger and truly serve our family.
I trust you to keep our home safe and to look after Father.
No matter what happens, I will return.
Sincerely,
Your brother,
Valen de Noir
When dawn came, Valen stood before the great gates of Noir Castle.
He carried nothing but a small travel bag and his sword — the weight of his resolve heavier than either.
The iron gates creaked open, their sound echoing through the misty morning.
He took his first step beyond the walls.
But before he could disappear into the fog, he heard footsteps behind him.
It was Leon.
At first, Valen thought he was just seeing him off, but when Leon fell into step beside him — sword on his back, grin on his face — he understood.
"You really thought you'd sneak out without me?" Leon said.
Valen smiled faintly, not breaking stride.
"I knew you'd come."
And so, the two left Noir together — two figures swallowed by mist, walking toward a world that neither of them could imagine.
The First Night
Valen and Leon continued their journey in silence.
They hunted in silence, ate in silence, and slept beneath the pale sky in silence.
Days passed like this — the rhythm of two travelers who had seen enough of the world to know that words were often useless.
That night, they made camp near the edge of an old forest.
The trees rose tall and crooked, their branches like ribs of some ancient beast. The fire crackled weakly, the only light between the earth and the mist.
Valen fell asleep quickly, exhaustion weighing on him.
Leon sat by the fire, sharpening his blade under the moonlight. He was assigned to the first watch, and the forest, though eerily quiet, seemed peaceful enough.
For the first two hours, nothing stirred.
Only the pop of burning wood broke the silence.
Then—crack.
A branch snapped. Not far.
Leon froze, knife still in hand. His eyes darted toward the dark beyond the fire's reach. His breathing slowed. He leaned slightly forward, trying to catch another sound — anything.
And then he saw them.
Shadows.
First two, then four, then more — shapes emerging slowly from the mist between the trees.
Within seconds, he counted twelve.
Bandits.
They stepped into the faint light, blades drawn, their faces hidden under worn hoods and dirt.
One of them, taller than the rest, smirked.
"Well, well. What do we have here? Two boys camping in our forest?"
Leon gripped his sword tighter.
"We don't want trouble."
"Oh, but trouble wants you."
The man's tone shifted — mocking, almost playful — and in the same instant, his hand flicked.
Something glinted through the dark — a dagger, spinning fast.
Leon moved on instinct.
He ducked — but too late. The blade sliced across his shoulder before embedding into the ground behind him.
He hissed, clutching his arm. For a heartbeat, it didn't seem bad… until black veins began to crawl up from the wound.
"Poison…" he muttered. His voice trembled.
Valen's eyes snapped open. In one swift motion, he was on his feet, sword already drawn.
He took one look at Leon's wound — and then at the twelve men encircling them.
Twelve of them… one poisoned. I can't protect him and fight all at once.
But running isn't an option. Not tonight.
The leader grinned again, showing yellowed teeth.
"Drop the swords, boys. We'll make it quick."
Valen didn't move. His hand tightened on the hilt until his knuckles went white.
"You should've killed me first."
The ring of men closed tighter around them.
Each step the bandits took made the circle smaller, the air heavier.
Leon tried to stand beside Valen, sword trembling in his grip. He swung once, missed — almost tripping over his own feet.
Every time he tried to help, he only got in Valen's way.
Valen blocked another strike, sparks flying off the blade. He gritted his teeth.
Damn it, Leon. Stay back. I can't protect you and fight them all.
But Leon didn't step back.
He stumbled forward instead, putting himself between Valen and the bandits.
"You have to run, Valen!" Leon shouted, his voice hoarse.
"You can't fight them all and protect me at the same time!"
Valen's eyes widened, anger and disbelief mixing in his voice.
"What are you saying, Leon? I'll never leave you behind!"
Leon clenched his jaw. His entire arm was trembling now, the poison spreading fast, but still, he raised his sword.
"Lord Valen! There are people waiting for you. Your family is waiting. Don't forget the promise you made to them!"
He took one shaky step forward, facing the enemies alone. His blade reflected the weak firelight, shaking — but steady in purpose.
"As a knight, I'm only doing my duty."
Valen froze. For a moment, all the sounds of the forest faded — only the fire and Leon's heavy breathing remained.
Leon turned his head slightly, a faint smile breaking through the pain.
"Go. Live."
Valen's throat tightened.
He wanted to refuse — to shout, to fight — but the look in Leon's eyes told him everything.
This was his choice. His stand.
Valen lowered his sword just slightly and whispered,
"I'll see you on the other side, old friend."
Leon didn't answer — he was already charging forward.
Valen turned and ran, into the black forest. Behind him, the sound of steel clashing and men shouting filled the night.
Then… silence.
He stopped once, looking back — but there was nothing left to see.
Only smoke rising between the trees and the faint glow of dying firelight.
Two bandits had chased after him later.
He cut them down quickly — without thought, without hesitation.
The forest swallowed the sounds of their screams.
When it was finally quiet again, Valen fell to his knees. His chest ached, his sword hand trembled.
''Leon… you fool.
You were supposed to live.''
The mist around him thickened, and the forest seemed to whisper.
Valen kept running — not from the bandits anymore,
but from the weight that had just settled in his heart.
( If you're enjoying Valen's journey, please add it to your Library — it helps a lot! )