Chương 200: Mentor Clad In Shadows

Vale held the shade's gaze, his pale eyes narrowing. For a long moment, nothing happened. The shade stood motionless, its barely defined face offering no expression to read. Only its eyes betrayed thought, those crimson embers slowly narrowing as they studied Vale with unnerving intensity. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, pressing down on the arena like a weight. Vale shifted slightly.

'Did he even hear me?' he wondered, his posture loosening just a fraction as doubt crept in. He continued to stare at the shade, waiting for some kind of reaction, anything. Then, suddenly, the shade moved. It crossed its arms and tilted its head back slightly, releasing what looked like a deep, weary sigh. No sound came, yet the gesture was unmistakable, an mimicry of something human. Slowly, the shade lowered its head and turned its gaze back to Vale. This time, the crimson glow in its eyes held something new.

Intent. It stepped forward. Vale's eyes widened just slightly as his hands lowered instinctively, his body tensing as the shade closed the distance between them. Step by step, the towering shadow approached until it stood less than a meter away. Too close for comfort. The shade leaned in. It loomed over Vale, its head angling down as if scrutinizing him, measuring him. Vale swallowed, his heart beating harder in his chest.

'What is it doing?' he wondered.

"…Is something wrong?" Vale asked cautiously. The shade did not answer. Instead, it reached out. In a single, effortless motion, it grasped Vale's arm, his metallic one, and lifted it upward. Vale stiffened, surprise flashing across his face as the shade brought the arm closer, its crimson eyes narrowing with clear curiosity. Vale glanced from the arm to the shade, then spoke nervously.

"Do… do you like my arm?" The shade remained silent. Then it nodded. Just once. Vale blinked, tilting his head slightly, unsure how to respond. He stayed still as the shade continued to examine the mechanical limb, its gaze tracing the metal as though searching for something deeper than surface design.

"…Huh?" Vale muttered under his breath. After a moment, the shade released him. Without explanation, it turned and walked away, crossing the arena with heavy, deliberate steps. Vale watched it go, confusion deepening.

'What is happening?' he thought. The shade stopped at the edge of the arena and bent down, picking up Vale's discarded blade. It lifted the weapon and turned it slowly in its grip, examining the metal with an appraising gaze. Then, without warning, it swung. The blade came down with immense force. The air screamed. A violent gust of wind tore through the arena, far stronger than before.

Vale instinctively raised an arm to shield his face as the blast slammed into him, his coat and hair whipping wildly as he nearly lost his footing. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. When the wind finally settled, Vale lowered his arm and looked up. The shade stared at the blade again. Then it nodded. Approval. It turned and walked back toward Vale. Vale's muscles tightened as the shadow approached.

He knew, with absolute certainty, that if the shade chose to attack now, there would be no escape. No resistance. Death would be instant. Yet… something told him it wouldn't. The shade stopped in front of him and extended the blade forward, holding it by the hilt with the tip angled downward. Offering it. Vale stared at the shade, then at the blade, confusion written plainly across his face.

"…You want me to take it?" he asked. The shade nodded. Vale hesitated, then spoke again, his voice quieter.

"But… I don't want to fight." The shade paused. It released another silent, exaggerated sigh, then pressed the blade lightly against Vale's chest and let go. Vale reacted on instinct, catching the weapon before it could fall. The shade then pointed at Vale's scabbard, gesturing with its hand and tracing faint, unfamiliar symbols in the air, clear, insistent. Vale frowned but complied, sliding the blade back into its sheath with a wary glance at the shadow. The shade crossed its arms and nodded in approval.

Then it raised one hand. It pointed at its eyes. Then at Vale. Understanding dawned slowly.

"…You want me to watch you?" Vale asked. The shade nodded. Without another word, it turned and walked back to the center of the arena. Vale remained where he stood, every ounce of his attention fixed on the shadow.

'Is it going to show me?' he thought. The shade planted its feet wide and lowered its stance. Its arms dropped loosely at its sides before compressing inward, muscles coiling like a drawn bowstring. The air around it seemed to tighten. Vale watched, really watched. Every shift of weight. Every tightening muscle. The way power gathered not explosively, but patiently. Purposefully. The shade went still. It closed its eyes. Then opened them. And released. The punch tore through the air.

Though it struck nothing, the force refused to be denied. A massive shockwave erupted outward, ripping through the arena with terrifying intensity. Vale was nearly swept off his feet, forced to brace himself as the wind roared past, stinging his eyes and stealing his breath. Then, silence followed. Vale straightened slowly, staring at the shade with wide eyes as it relaxed its stance and turned back toward him. A mad, disbelieving smile spread across Vale's face.

"…No way," he whispered. The shade watched him for a long moment. Then it pointed at Vale. And then at the ground beneath itself. Vale's breath caught.

"…You want me to try?" he asked. Slowly, the shade nodded. Its crimson eyes burned with unmistakable clarity, no hesitation in the motion, no ambiguity in its intent. Vale swallowed hard.

"Alright," he said at last, stepping forward, his voice edged with reluctance.

"But… don't expect me to be anywhere near as good as you." The shade responded immediately, shifting backward with deliberate care, granting Vale space rather than looming over him. It was a small gesture, but unmistakably intentional. Vale walked forward until he stood at the center of the arena. For a moment, he simply stood there. He glanced down at himself, at his hands, his armor, the faint tremor in his fingers. He drew in a deep breath, but before beginning, he hesitated and looked back over his shoulder.

There was a question that had been gnawing at him for too long to ignore.

"Hey," Vale said quietly.

"Are you… Leo Lionheart?" The shade's eyes narrowed slightly. Then, slowly, it nodded. Vale released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. A weak, crooked smile touched his lips, not of joy, but of confirmation.

"So Ali was telling the truth," he murmured. He turned back toward the empty air ahead of him, something within him settling. Trust, fragile, incomplete, but real, took root. If even this much was true, then perhaps the rest of Ali's words were not lies either. Vale closed his eyes. He thought back to the shade's movements, the stance, the stillness, the way power gathered not through force, but through restraint. Slowly, he shifted into position. One arm hung loose at his side, relaxed but ready.

The other drew inward, compressed like a coiled spring. He lowered his center of gravity, adjusting his footing inch by inch, listening to his body rather than commanding it.

'Maybe…' he thought, 'if I treat it like Nirvana.' He didn't try to control the sensation. He let it come. He felt the tension in his muscles. He felt the blood flowing through his veins, the subtle strain as his body resisted release. He took a long, shallow breath, feeling the air fill his lungs, compress his chest, then leave him again. His heartbeat slowed. His thoughts fell away. When he opened his eyes, there was nothing left but focus.

Vale made one final adjustment to his stance, barely perceptible, but precise. Then he released. His fist surged forward. The motion was faster than anything he had ever achieved before, his arm cutting through the air like a launched projectile. He felt resistance, not solid, but real, as the air split around his strike. Tiny currents tore past his knuckles and along his forearm, brushing against the skin beneath his armor like shallow cuts. The impact wasn't visible. But it was felt.

A faint gust followed the punch, a whisper of wind that hadn't existed before, slipping free as the motion completed. Vale froze at the end of the strike. He stared at his own hand, breathing hard, not from exhaustion, but disbelief.

'I did that.' Slowly, he straightened and turned toward the shade, a proud, almost boyish expression breaking through his usual guarded composure.

"Well?" Vale asked, unable to hide the hint of excitement in his voice.

"…Was that good?"