Chương 344: Rest Beneath Perfection

Vale lay sprawled across the cold library floor, utterly exhausted, his ivory eyes fixed on the vast emptiness above him. Drago had already left, his footsteps long since swallowed by silence, yet Vale made no effort to rise. He simply stared, breathing slowly, allowing everything that had happened to settle within him. His mind felt strangely hollow, and yet it had never been more crowded.

Countless thoughts raced through his consciousness, colliding with one another as they tried to make sense of the impossible gulf he had just witnessed. The difference between himself and Drago was not merely one of strength, it was an entirely different existence. Vale had found another mountain towering beyond the one he had spent fifty thousand years climbing. His thoughts inevitably drifted back to Kealix. If Drago had been telling the truth, then Vale's original assumption had been correct.

The Seven Sages had somehow learned about him and Kealix during their own journey. But that only raised an even greater mystery. How? Throughout those endless years of death and rebirth, Vale had never once noticed anyone entering Kealix's domain. That place had always seemed isolated from existence itself. Surely he would have remembered strangers appearing in a realm where he spent tens of thousands of years. Unless... they had never physically entered it at all. Vale frowned.

"Unless they were never human to begin with..." He considered the possibility, but it felt incomplete. No matter how much he turned the idea over, it refused to fit perfectly. Another memory surfaced instead, the moment the Seven Sages had first spoken Kealix's name aloud. They had reacted strangely, almost as if they were observing him rather than telling him something. Vale slowly nodded.

"Yeah... that makes more sense." Perhaps they had only suspected the truth. Perhaps they already believed Kealix was his Enigma, yet lacked confirmation. Then, the instant Vale reacted to hearing the name, their suspicions became certainty. That would explain the surprise in their expressions far better than them somehow knowing everything from the beginning. Still... That only replaced one mystery with another. Why had they been so shocked that Vale could hear Kealix's name at all? His brows knitted together.

Were an Enigma's true name only audible to its rightful heir? It was possible. Strange phenomena surrounding Enigmas were hardly unheard of, yet Vale had never encountered any record suggesting such a restriction. Most Visorians never even learned their Enigma's true name. Their connections were distant, vague things, little more than instincts and fleeting guidance. They rarely interacted directly. Vale's case had always been different. Kealix had never possessed dozens of heirs. There had only ever been one. Him.

That thought should have been comforting, yet another contradiction immediately surfaced. Nym and Korin were anomalies as well. Each possessed a singular bond with their own Enigma, yet Korin had never managed to communicate with his at all, while Nym could actually see hers... only for it to completely ignore her existence.

"So that's not it either..." He rubbed his temple. The pieces refused to fit together no matter how he arranged them. Then, without warning, another memory surfaced. Illu. His raven. Dead. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. The realization struck him all over again with the same crushing weight as before. Despite the fifty thousand years of recovered memories, despite countless deaths and endless rebirths, the grief remained just as sharp as ever.

He had almost expected those ancient memories to dull the emotions he had built during his recent life, to make friendships feel insignificant compared to the eternity he had endured. Instead... Nothing had changed. His bonds remained every bit as real. Every bit as precious. Perhaps even more so. Vale slowly sat upright, resting his forearms upon his knees as his pale eyes lingered on the floor.

"... I'm glad." A faint smile tugged at his lips.

"I'm really glad." Because if those memories had stolen the people he cared about, then they would have been nothing more than another curse. His thoughts drifted again, this time toward Eskar. Concern settled heavily in his chest. Eskar had departed some time ago, and knowing him, trouble had undoubtedly found him before long. Vale trusted his strength, but that did little to quiet the worry gnawing at him. Strength alone rarely guaranteed survival inside the Tower.

"I'd rather not lose another friend..." His shoulders sagged. Stress continued to build until he finally groaned aloud.

"For the Creator's sake... I seriously need some sleep." With considerably more effort than he cared to admit, Vale forced himself to his feet and slowly climbed the grand staircase leading toward his room within the upper floors of the royal library. Every step felt heavier than the last, the exhaustion from both the arena and his returning memories settling deeper into his bones. The moment he entered his room, he casually tossed one of his blades toward the corner. It clattered loudly across the floor.

Vale froze.

"... Right." Ali had given those blades to him. His expression softened.

"Ali..." He quietly retrieved Shade from his back, resting the shadow weapon carefully against the wardrobe before walking over to recover the discarded blade. Sitting upon the edge of his bed, he balanced the onyx weapon across his knees and began examining it far more carefully than he ever had before. As if sensing his curiosity, Shade emerged from the shadows beside him. The shadow's ruby eyes lingered upon the blade.

"Hey, Shade," Vale said quietly.

"You were interested in these swords the first time you saw them too, weren't you? Do you think there's something strange about them?" Shade remained silent, as always. Instead, he picked up a nearby sheet of paper and a pen before writing only three words.''They look too perfect.'' Vale accepted the paper, reading it twice before nodding slowly.

"... Yeah." His fingers traced the flawless black surface.

"I was thinking the same thing." He looked between the sword and Shade.

"Even your original form... a weapon capable of becoming anything I imagined... still felt imperfect somehow. But these..." His voice trailed away.

"They're different." The blade possessed no blemishes. No microscopic chips. No imperfections along its edge. It was perfection made tangible. His fingertips continued gliding along its razor-sharp edge. It never cut him. Not even slightly. Almost as though the blade itself recognized him and refused to harm its owner. But that made no sense. This wasn't some legendary divine relic. It was supposed to be an ordinary onyx sword. So why did it behave as though it possessed a will of its own?

Vale leaned back, his thoughts drifting toward another memory. Ali's story. The tale of the Founders. Knowledge that should have been impossible for someone like Ali to possess. Most people inside Irea didn't even know the Tower's true history. The only reason Vale himself knew any of it was because Drago had personally told him. Yet Ali had known far more. He had known Shade's true name. He had known Vale's soul had been split into five fragments. Vale stared quietly at his own hand.

"Five fragments..." His fingers slowly curled into a fist.

"And I'm the core." He remembered asking Ali whether he was a god. The answer still echoed within his mind.

"Something like that." Vale frowned. If Ali truly was a god... why reveal so much to him? Even the High Priestess, who supposedly knew everything within the Temple's reach, hadn't been aware of Ali's presence. Not directly. Did that mean Ali existed outside the perception of the world's powers? Like Vale himself? No... That couldn't be right. If Ali shared that same nature, then wouldn't that imply he too was somehow connected to Kealix? And that... That simply shouldn't have been possible.

Vale buried his face in his hands with an exhausted groan.

"Why does everything have to be so ridiculously complicated?" A weary laugh escaped him.

"I'm smart... sure."

"But how exactly am I supposed to solve mysteries when every answer creates three more questions?" Finally surrendering to fatigue, he let the blade slip from his fingers. It landed softly upon the blankets beside him as he curled forward, resting his forehead against his folded arms. His eyelids grew heavy.

"... It's probably not a mystery I'm meant to solve yet." His breathing slowed.

"I'll understand when the time is right." He smiled faintly to himself.

"If that's how fate intends it... then so be it." Sleep gradually claimed him as every revelation, every unanswered question, and every fragment of memory circled endlessly through his exhausted mind. They all converged upon the same figure, the same impossible man whose existence had reshaped everything Vale thought he knew. The man whose name had begun this endless chain of questions. The Father of Flaws.