Vale stared at Ares, his usual indifference cracking for perhaps the first time since arriving in Irea. The commander's words echoed relentlessly through his mind.
'I assumed you were dead.'
Questions flooded his thoughts so quickly that he could barely grasp them. Why would Ares believe that? What had happened to him before his memories vanished? How had the commander known him, and why did every recovered fragment seem connected to this man? Each possibility only spawned more uncertainty, until the sheer weight of it became impossible to ignore.
Finally, his restraint broke.
"Wait."
"Why would you think I was dead? And how exactly did you know me?"
Ares regarded him with the same infuriating composure he brought to every situation.
"Your question has already been answered," he replied calmly. "Now leave, as you said you would."
The dismissal struck harder than it should have.
Vale felt irritation rise immediately. Months of chasing half-remembered dreams and fragmented memories had led him here, and now the first person who clearly possessed real answers was refusing to give them. His hands curled into fists as frustration simmered beneath his skin.
"No."
Ares raised a single eyebrow.
Without breaking eye contact, Vale reached for his sword and slowly drew the black blade from its sheath. The soft hiss of steel sliding free cut through the silence between them.
"I've come too far to walk away now. If I leave this room, I learn nothing."
The commander remained seated.
Unimpressed.
"So I propose an alternative."
A faint spark of curiosity appeared in Ares' eyes.
"And what would that be?"
A crooked grin spread across Vale's face, fueled less by confidence than stubborn desperation.
"If I land a single hit on you, you answer another question."
He raised the blade.
"And if I somehow manage to beat you, you answer everything."
The room fell silent.
For several moments Ares simply stared at him before releasing a long sigh.
"Very well."
He rose from his chair and shifted his stance by a single step.
That was all.
Yet the atmosphere transformed instantly.
The pressure filling the room became suffocating, as though an invisible weight had settled over everything. Crimson eyes locked onto Vale, cold and utterly unconcerned.
"Come then."
The moment the invitation left his lips, Vale moved.
He launched forward without hesitation, crossing the distance in a blur. The edge of Ares' desk became a foothold beneath his boot as he vaulted over it in one fluid motion, twisting through the air while bringing his blade into position.
Then he inhaled.
A single perfect breath.
The world became clearer.
Every detail crystallized with impossible clarity, the grain of the wood beneath him, the subtle movement of Ares' cloak, the measured rhythm of the commander's breathing. For an instant, everything aligned.
Vale struck.
The thrust shot forward like a bolt of lightning, perfectly straight and impossibly precise, aimed directly at Ares' throat. It was the kind of attack meant to kill, not because Vale intended murder, but because anything less would never reach its target.
At the final instant, Ares tilted his head.
Barely.
The blade slid harmlessly past his neck.
Vale adjusted immediately. The thrust flowed into a rising slash aimed for the commander's jaw, the transition seamless and technically flawless.
It failed just as completely.
Pain detonated through his chest.
His eyes widened.
He hadn't seen Ares move.
One moment he had been attacking, the next, a fist was buried deep in his ribs.
The impact was catastrophic.
His body folded around the strike as blood erupted from his mouth. The floor disappeared beneath him and the world became a blur of motion and pain. He crashed into the stone doors behind him hard enough to fracture them, sending cracks racing across the surface as dust and shattered stone exploded into the air.
For several seconds he couldn't breathe.
His vision doubled.
His ears rang.
Every nerve in his body screamed in protest.
Across the office, Ares stood exactly where he had started, untouched and unmoved, as though the exchange had required no more effort than swatting away an insect.
"I advise you to stop now," the commander said quietly.
Vale coughed violently, blood splattering across the floor.
"Because the second hit may actually kill you."
The words reached him through the ringing in his ears, distorted but there.
And yet, despite the agony tearing through his body, despite the fear clawing at the edges of his thoughts and the overwhelming gulf in strength that separated them, a grin slowly spread across his face.
He spat another mouthful of blood onto the stone.
A broken tooth followed.
Then he laughed.
"Unbelievable…"
The word escaped Vale in little more than a whisper as he planted his sword into the stone floor and used it to pull himself upright. Every movement sent pain through his body, his breathing still ragged from the single strike that had nearly folded him in half. He let out a weak, breathless laugh and shook his head.
"I thought I had a decent grasp of where I stood. I thought the gap wouldn't be this ridiculous."
Across the room, Ares merely watched him in silence while Vale slowly straightened to his feet. Everything hurt, yet the fire in his eyes burned brighter than before.
Ares closed his eyes and exhaled. "You have made a wise choice." Turning away, he added, "Now leave."
Vale's grin widened.
Then he vanished.
Ares felt him move and turned instantly, yet by the time he faced forward again, Vale had already crossed the distance between them. There was no sword, no technique, and no elaborate strategy behind the attack, only raw stubbornness. His fist was already flying toward Ares' abdomen.
"I never said I gave up."
Confusion flickered across the commander's face. Instinctively, he raised a hand. Yet as his crimson eyes lingered on the young man charging him, something changed. The coldness receded. The tension faded. For the briefest moment, he saw a familiar face, a familiar determination, and that same infuriating refusal to stay down no matter the odds. Ares exhaled softly and lowered his hand.
The punch landed with a sharp crack that echoed through the office.
Vale's fist struck Ares squarely in the abdomen. The commander did not move so much as an inch, but Vale's hand broke instantly. Pain shot through his arm, twisting his expression into a grimace. Even so, triumph surged through him. He had done it. He had actually landed a hit.
Ares looked down at him and smiled.
Not one of his usual smirks or expressions of tired amusement, but a genuine smile, small, warm, and touched by something almost nostalgic.
"I am glad," he said quietly. "You are still the same as back then."
Vale froze.
Back then? Before the missing memories? Before everything had been taken from him?
Ares turned away, and the smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "Now leave."
Vale opened his mouth, but the commander did not even look at him.
"And do not test my patience further. If you speak back to me before leaving, I will hit you again."
Slowly, Ares returned to his chair and sat behind his desk. "Understood?"
Vale gritted his teeth. Every instinct urged him to argue, demand answers, and keep pushing while he finally had an opening. But he also knew he had already been allowed far more than anyone else would have received. After several moments, he gave a reluctant nod.
"...Understood."
As he turned toward the door, his thoughts were already racing.
''Still the same.''
What did that mean? How much of him remained unchanged beneath the missing memories? How much had survived?
Just as his hand settled on the handle, Ares spoke again.
"What do you say when someone answers your questions?"
Vale stopped and slowly looked back over his shoulder. The commander met his gaze with the same unyielding stare.
"You know I'm not a child anymore, right?"
Vale sighed.
"...Thank you."
Ares' expression softened by the smallest fraction before he gave a single nod. "You may go."
This time Vale obeyed.
He stepped into the hallway beyond, where cool air immediately washed over him. For several moments he remained standing there, feeling the steady throb in his broken hand and the lingering agony in his ribs. His chest still felt as though it had been struck by a siege engine, yet those injuries occupied only the edges of his thoughts. Instead, his gaze drifted toward the metallic arm attached to his body.
Today he had learned two things. Whatever had taken his memories was severe enough that Ares had genuinely believed him dead, and despite losing everything he once knew, despite becoming, on paper, an entirely different person, something fundamental had survived. Something that those who had known him before could still see.
For reasons he could not fully explain, that realization eased a burden he had carried for months.
He was still himself.
Even if he no longer remembered who that self had once been.
Releasing a slow breath, Vale began walking through the immaculate halls of the Royal Guard headquarters. Sunlight poured through the towering windows, casting long golden lines across the polished stone floor as his thoughts drifted toward everything waiting ahead. Only a week remained until the gala, the prison break, Wolf, Illu, and the growing mystery surrounding his own past. The list seemed to grow longer every day.
Vale rubbed his forehead with his good hand and groaned.
"What a damn chore."