Chương 357: Dead man walking

Vale's foot tapped relentlessly against the wooden floor, the rhythm growing faster every few seconds as flashes of the memory surged through his mind with merciless clarity. Every word, every scream, every sensation returned exactly as he had experienced it. Witnessing his own death during the First Trial had been horrifying enough after reliving it countless times, but this memory was different. It had happened before all of it, before Kealix, before the Tower, before he had awakened without memories.

This had been his very first death. His breathing gradually became uneven as another question surfaced. If he had truly died... then why was he alive? His blood was warm. His heart still beat steadily inside his chest. He could breathe, eat, think, laugh, bleed, everything about him was undeniably human. There was nothing unnatural about his existence, nothing that suggested he was some walking corpse wandering through borrowed time.

The only thing unusual about him was his power, yet other people possessed abilities unique to themselves. That alone couldn't explain how someone who had unquestionably died was still standing here.... Could it? His thoughts spiraled faster with every passing second. Every answer only produced another question until panic slowly drowned out reason itself. Death was no stranger to him.

Kealix had forced him to experience it more times than any person ever should, turning each death into another lesson carved painfully into his instincts. Yet this felt different. Those deaths had taught him how to survive. This one reminded him that, once upon a time... He hadn't. As Vale sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, another figure quietly stepped through the entrance to the barracks. For a brief moment, he expected to see Eskar, but instead, a familiar pair of emerald eyes met his own. Nym.

She lingered near the doorway, silently watching him with an expression caught somewhere between guilt and uncertainty. It was obvious she had rehearsed countless things to say before coming here, only for every carefully chosen word to disappear the instant she saw him. Vale's racing thoughts paused for the briefest moment. Then they resumed with even greater force. Unable to meet her gaze, he lowered his eyes toward the wooden floor as Nym slowly crossed the room and lowered herself into the chair opposite him.

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly, careful not to raise her voice enough to startle him. Vale didn't answer immediately. Instead, he absentmindedly bit down on his thumbnail. When there was nothing left to bite, his teeth drifted onto the skin of his finger instead, hardly noticing as blood slowly began to well from the wound.

"I... I don't know," he admitted quietly. Nym's eyes followed the blood running across his finger. Without saying a word, she reached across the small space between them and gently took his hand.

"You shouldn't hurt yourself." The instant her fingers touched his skin, Vale jerked his hand free.

"Let go." His voice came out far harsher than he intended, edged with anxiety more than anger. There was something almost frightened in the way he recoiled, as though simple human contact had become dangerous. Nym hesitated for only a moment before quietly reaching toward him again. This time, she pulled a small roll of bandages from her pouch, her movements slow enough that he could have stopped her at any point.

"Just bear with me," she whispered. Vale's jaw tightened. His free hand clamped around the edge of the bed so hard the wood groaned beneath his grip, tiny splinters cracking under the pressure of his fingers.

"No..." His breathing quickened.

"You don't understand." His voice trembled as he stared blankly at the floor. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"I died, Nym. I should not be alive." Nym continued wrapping the injured finger without looking up, carefully winding each layer of cloth around the wound as though giving him time to continue.

"The voice..." Vale whispered.

"It said... it said it would kill them if they didn't accept him." His breathing grew ragged again.

"What does that even mean?" He looked directly at her. Desperately.

"Is he going to kill the people I knew before I lost my memories? The people I cared about?" Nym finished tying the bandage before gently releasing his hand. She remained silent for a long moment, carefully choosing her words before finally speaking.

"It sounds like a terrible memory." Her voice remained soft and steady.

"I didn't know your life was like that before." She lowered her eyes.

"I'm... sorry." Vale let out a hollow laugh that contained no trace of amusement.

"Sorry?" He looked at her as though she had spoken another language.

"You?" His brows slowly furrowed.

"Why are you apologizing?" Nym flinched almost imperceptibly. Her fingers curled against her palms before she slowly rose from the chair. For several long seconds, she simply stood there, quietly watching him struggle beneath a burden neither of them truly understood. Then, almost timidly, she asked,"... Do you want a hug?" Vale stared at her in complete disbelief. His lips parted slightly before closing again, uncertainty flickering across his face.

Eventually, he looked away and gave the smallest shake of his head.

"... No." A faint sadness crossed Nym's expression, though she forced herself to smile anyway.

"That's alright." Without another word, she quietly left the barracks. Silence settled over the room once again, and this time there was nothing left to distract Vale from his own thoughts. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against his clasped hands.

'You have fulfilled your purpose.' Those words echoed endlessly inside his mind, refusing to fade no matter how desperately he tried to push them aside. What purpose? Even the version of himself trapped inside that memory hadn't understood what the stranger meant. The man had spoken as though Vale had been nothing more than a disposable tool, something created for a single purpose before being cast aside the moment it was no longer needed. But why? And why had it been so personal?

The hatred in that man's voice had felt genuine. Yet at the same time, strangely misplaced. It hadn't felt as though he truly hated Vale himself. Rather, Vale had simply become the target of hatred that belonged somewhere else entirely. So, who had that hatred originally been directed toward? Who was that man? Why had he wanted Vale to suffer? Why erase his memories? Why leave him alive... Or perhaps... How had he survived at all?

The questions piled endlessly atop one another until they became impossible to separate. Hours passed without anyone entering the barracks. The others had likely agreed to leave him alone. Under normal circumstances, he would have appreciated the gesture. Today, it has left him imprisoned inside his own thoughts. Even after darkness swallowed the camp and midnight quietly arrived, he had discovered nothing. Yet despite hours of reflection, one thing never changed.

Every time he remembered that voice, his entire body trembled. It felt less like remembering another person and more like standing before Death itself, as though, at any moment, that unseen figure could whisper into his ear once more before calmly driving a blade through his heart. Eventually, exhaustion overtook him. Still lost in thought, Vale collapsed where he stood. Sleep claimed him before he even realized he had fallen. Morning sunlight filtered softly through the fabric walls of the barracks.

Vale slowly opened his eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling for several long moments. Warm blankets covered his body. Someone had carried him back to bed. Before he could wonder who, the memory returned.

"You have fulfilled your purpose." His expression darkened. That single sentence refused to leave him. Whatever that purpose had been, the man had claimed it no longer mattered because he had arrived. Whoever that person was... He had replaced Vale. The realization alone sent another chill crawling down his spine. His breathing remained steadier than the night before, yet the unease refused to disappear. Slowly climbing out of bed, he found his armor neatly arranged on a nearby chair.

As he fastened each piece into place, his gaze drifted across the countless scars covering his body. Vale closed his eyes and forced a slow breath through clenched teeth.

'Don't think about it.'

'Just... don't.' Another breath. Then another. Eventually, the trembling subsided enough for him to step outside. Cool morning air greeted him alongside the distant songs of birds. The camp was unusually quiet, and for a brief moment, he wondered if everyone had already departed. Then the movement caught his eye. The wounded forest drake rested nearby, its enormous body wrapped in thick layers of bandages, many already stained crimson where fresh blood had seeped through. Vale stopped.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"So... you're still here too." The great beast answered with a low rumble. A moment later, something gently nudged his boot. Looking down, he found one of the young drakes staring up at him with curious golden eyes. The little creature bumped his foot again before sitting beside him as though it had always belonged there. Despite everything weighing on his mind, Vale found himself smiling. This was his life now. These people. This camp. These strange companions. Not the forgotten past.

Not the dying boy trapped inside that memory. The man who had killed him believed he was dead. Shouldn't that mean there was nothing left to fear? He didn't even know the people the stranger had threatened. Why should he worry about them? The thought barely had time to settle before Vale slapped himself sharply across the face.

"I'm an idiot." He lowered himself onto a nearby bench, resting his elbows on his knees. Just because he couldn't remember that life didn't mean it belonged to someone else. It was still his. He had searched for answers about his past, convinced that recovering his memories would finally give him peace. Now that the first real answer had appeared, it had brought him none. Only fear. Not fear of the memory itself. Not even fear of dying. But fear of the man within it... whoever he was.