Vale beamed at the Shade, his eyes still closed, a bright and genuine smile spread across his bruised face. His hand remained extended, open, patient, hopeful, offered not in challenge, but in respect.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
The Shade stared at Vale, then slowly lowered its gaze to the outstretched hand. It lingered there, crimson eyes unreadable beneath the veil of shadow. Seconds passed, then more. The Shade did not move to accept the gesture. It simply continued to stare, as though the concept itself were foreign, an equation it had never been taught how to solve.
A faint, awkward tension crept into Vale's chest.
He opened his eyes.
The Shade was still there, unmoving, its expression distant and indifferent, as if it did not understand what Vale was asking of it, or why.
Vale's smile faltered.
"Are you… alright?" he asked carefully, his voice softer now.
The Shade finally shifted. It glanced up at Vale, then reached out, not toward his hand, but toward the onyx blade lying nearby. It lifted the weapon with surprising care and placed it firmly into Vale's grasp.
Vale blinked, instinctively tightening his fingers around the hilt before returning the blade to his waist.
"…Right," he muttered inwardly. 'I just wanted to shake his hand. What's gotten into him?'
But the Shade wasn't finished.
One by one, it reached into its own shadowed body and tore free Vale's daggers. The motion was unsettling, shadow unraveling like ink pulled through silk, flesh knitting itself back together as if it had never been pierced at all. The Shade gathered the daggers neatly in one massive hand and held them out.
Vale stared, clearly confused, before taking them back.
"Thanks…" he said slowly, unsure what else to say.
The Shade's crimson eyes narrowed slightly. Without another word, or gesture, it turned away and walked toward the center of the arena. There, it bent down and picked up Vale's spear. It examined the weapon for a moment, as though weighing its purpose and its worth.
Then it returned and handed the spear to Vale as well.
That made Vale freeze.
"…What's wrong?" he asked, frowning.
This wasn't like the Shade. It had never retrieved his weapons for him before. Returning the blade and daggers might have made sense, those had struck true. But the spear? The Shade had gone out of its way for that.
Vale's eyes narrowed as silence stretched between them.
Then the Shade turned its head.
Its gaze drifted to its own greatsword, the massive onyx blade still embedded in the stone where it had landed earlier. It stared at it for a long moment, unmoving.
Understanding flickered in Vale's eyes.
Slowly, he looked back at the Shade, disbelief and something softer mixing in his expression.
"…You don't want me to leave?" he asked quietly.
The Shade didn't answer.
Instead, it released a slow, heavy sigh and turned away, walking back toward its greatsword. It lowered itself beside the blade and sat there, massive form folded inward slightly as it stared across the arena at Vale.
Waiting.
Ready for him to leave.
Ready, so it thought, for this to be the last time their paths would ever cross.
It hadn't lived long. Yet the thought of Vale leaving stirred something unfamiliar and uncomfortable within it. A hollow ache it had no name for. Strange, really, such a dominant, merciless fighter feeling something so fragile.
Vale clenched his spear.
"Priestess?" he called out.
The air shifted.
In an instant, another presence filled the arena. The High Priestess appeared behind Vale, her steps silent, her expression as gentle and composed as ever.
"You wished to speak?" she asked.
Vale didn't look at her at first. His eyes were still fixed on the Shade.
"…Yeah," he said, hesitation threading his voice. Then, more firmly, "Is there a way I can bring him with me?"
The Priestess was silent for a long time.
Her gaze moved from Vale to the Shade, then back again. Something like quiet contemplation, and perhaps respect, settled over her features before she finally spoke.
"There is a way," she said slowly.
Vale turned, eyes widening.
"You can make it happen?" he asked, hope sharp and sudden.
The Priestess stepped closer, her smile faint but solemn.
"Are you prepared to sacrifice one thing for another?" she asked gently.
Vale frowned. "What do you mean?"
She tilted her head slightly.
"Your spear could become his vessel," she explained. "The Shade and the relic would merge into one existence. But doing so would halt the spear's evolutionary process entirely. Its potential growth would be sealed, forever."
She paused, then added, "In exchange, it may become far stronger than the Shade is now. But it would no longer grow as relics were meant to."
Vale hesitated.
He looked back at the Shade.
It sat there silently, crimson eyes fixed on him, not pleading, not demanding anything. Just waiting. There was something almost pitiful about it now.
A being like this, born for battle, bound by shadow, did not belong trapped in a forgotten arena.
His relic might have been rare, powerful, promising.
But it wasn't alive.
Vale turned back to the Priestess, resolve burning bright in his eyes.
"If that's the price," he said firmly, "then I'll gladly pay it."
The Priestess stared at him for a moment, clearly taken aback.
Then she smiled, truly smiled.
"I see," she said softly, extending her hand.
"Your spear, please."
Vale stared at the priestess's outstretched hand for a long moment. Pale and unadorned, it stood in stark contrast to the deep black of her robes, like yin and yang given form. The sight rooted him in place, the weight of the choice pressing down on his chest far heavier now that it was no longer abstract.
Slowly, he turned his gaze to his spear.
The weapon rested against the stone, its bone-like shaft scarred from countless battles, its presence as familiar to him as his own heartbeat. Vale's eyes narrowed slightly. For a brief instant, doubt flickered, in vale his eyes.
Then he exhaled.
Stepping forward, he reached down and lifted the spear, its weight settling into his palm one last time as it always had. Without another word, he placed it into the priestess's waiting hand.
The blindfolded woman accepted it with a gentle smile, her fingers closing around the relic as if it were something fragile rather than a weapon forged for war. She turned and walked toward the Shade, her steps calm, unhurried.
The Shade watched her approach in silence.
When she stopped before it, she lifted her head slightly, as though meeting its gaze despite the cloth covering her eyes.
"Do you wish to join the boy on his journey?" the priestess asked softly.
"I am certain you will encounter many worthy opponents beyond these walls."
For a long moment, nothing happened.
The Shade did not move. It did not react. It stood utterly still, as if frozen in thought, or perhaps in fear of what choosing might mean.
Then, slowly, it nodded.
Its crimson eyes shifted to Vale.
The priestess's smile deepened, warm and approving.
"Very well," she said. "Touch the relic, and I shall bind the two of you as one."
The Shade hesitated.
Its massive hand lifted, movements uncharacteristically careful, almost uncertain. For the first time since Vale had met it, the being of shadow seemed unsure of its own strength. Then, with quiet resolve, it placed its hand against the spear.
The world seemed to hold its breath at that moment.
In an instant, the Shade's body erupted outward, unraveling into a violent storm of living darkness. Shadow tore free from shadow as its form dissolved, spiraling through the air like ink thrown into water. Even its greatsword did not remain behind, it fractured into fragments of blackened essence and was swallowed by the storm.
Vale's eyes widened as the arena was engulfed in whirling shadow.
At the heart of it all, the Shade stood for one final moment, its crimson eyes glowing fiercely. Then, as if accepting its fate, or perhaps embracing it, it closed them.
The storm collapsed.
All the darkness rushed inward, drawn violently toward the spear. It poured into the relic in a single breathless instant, seeping into its surface and staining it with a depth of shadow no light could pierce. When the air finally stilled, the Shade was gone.
The priestess turned and walked back toward Vale, holding the spear before her.
"It is done," she said simply.
Vale took the weapon from her hands.
At first glance, it was the same spear he had always carried, but only at first glance. Veins of spiraling darkness now traced along its length, flowing like slow-moving smoke beneath the surface. The weapon felt different too. Heavier. Not in weight, but in presence.
Carefully, Vale ran his fingers along the altered shaft.
"What… happened?" he asked quietly.
The priestess turned toward the exit as she answered.
"I have bound the Shade to the spear," she explained. "It now serves as his vessel, a place of rest and return. You may wield the spear as you always have, but when the Shade manifests, it will replace the weapon entirely for as long as it exists within the physical plane."
She paused, then added, "Even while dormant, it will see. It will hear. It will sense all that you do."
Vale lifted his brow, questions already forming,
But the priestess spoke again before he could voice them.
"I am afraid I cannot answer more," she said gently, facing him one final time.
"You have reached the end of your stay. Farewell, Vale."
His eyes widened.
In the blink of an eye, the arena vanished.
The stone floor, the towering pillars, the silent echoes of battle, all of it dissolved into blinding light. When Vale's vision cleared, scorching heat washed over him.
He stood beneath the open sky, surrounded by endless dunes.
The vast desert of the Scorched Sands stretched out before him once more, unforgiving and alive with danger. Vale tightened his grip on the spear, feeling the presence within it, quiet, watchful, waiting.
His time in the tower had ended.
His journey, however, was only just beginning now.