Vale found himself falling once more.

  A void of endless darkness stretched in all directions as he descended through the corrupted knight’s memories. Instinct guided him this time. He twisted his body mid-fall, recalling what had happened before, bracing himself.

  The ground rushed up.

  He landed cleanly, boots striking solid earth as he absorbed the impact and straightened. The darkness thinned, becoming a vast, empty expanse beneath a dim, formless sky. Vale lifted his head, scanning his surroundings.

  Then he froze.

  To his side stood a massive wolf.

  Its fur was deep onyx, swallowing what little light existed, and its eyes burned with an ethereal blue glow, ancient, intelligent and familiar. The beast regarded him calmly, without hostility or warmth, as though it had always been there.

  As though it had been waiting.

  Vale stared at it in silence for a long time, disbelief tightening his chest.

  Finally, his voice broke the stillness.

  “How are you here?” he asked, the words trembling with bewilderment.

  The wolf closed its eyes.

  It exhaled slowly, what Vale instinctively understood to be a sigh, before opening them again and fixing him with that same steady gaze.

  Then the voice came.

  Not aloud.

  It echoed gently inside Vale’s mind.

  ''You still don’t understand, do you?''

  Vale staggered back a step, heart hammering. This voice was not his enigma’s, there was no cruelty, no mockery in it. It was calm. Familiar. Gentle.

  Mirage.

  The whisper continued.

  ''There is no “you” and “me,” master. We are one.''

  The wolf bowed its head slightly, an act of reverence.

  ''I merely serve you now… as I always have.''

  Vale’s eyes trembled.

  “What do you mean by that?” he demanded, his voice strained, almost breaking.

  Mirage lifted its head, expression unreadable.

  ''We were never meant to be separated,'' the wolf said. ''I am not something beside you. I am part of you.''

  Vale’s breath caught.

  “You’re saying we’re… one?” he asked, disbelief seeping into every word.

  Mirage nodded once.

  ''Correct, master.''

  Vale staggered back again, frustration and shock colliding inside him. His mouth opened, desperate to respond.

  But Mirage turned away.

  “Should we follow them?” the wolf asked calmly.

  Vale blinked and turned.

  Before them, the darkness had peeled away, replaced by a vast wasteland of red stone. A single white sun burned overhead, harsh and merciless. The land was barren, silent, lifeless.

  Except for two figures walking through it.

  One was a tall man with dark brown hair, clad in black armor etched with the sigil of a dragon. His posture was alert, cautious, his hand never far from his weapon.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  The other,

  Vale’s breath hitched.

  She wore pure white armor, immaculate yet worn, bearing the sigil of both a knight and a dragon. Long blonde hair flowed freely down her back, and her golden eyes reflected the burning sun.

  She looked exactly like the corrupted knight.

  But human.

  Alive.

  Vale turned sharply back to Mirage,

  But the wolf was gone.

  The emptiness where it had stood left him disoriented.

  “Am I… imagining things?” Vale whispered to himself, his voice hollow.

  No answer came.

  Slowly, he began to follow the two figures.

  They didn’t notice him.

  No matter how close he drew, no matter how deliberately he moved, it was as if he didn’t exist. When he finally stood only a dozen meters away, Vale called out.

  “Hey! Can you see me?”

  Nothing.

  They continued speaking among themselves.

  Unease crept into Vale’s chest. He stepped closer still, raising his hand and passing it through the woman’s shoulder.

  His hand met no resistance.

  It slipped straight through.

  “This isn’t like before…” Vale muttered.

  He withdrew, watching silently now.

  The woman paused, scanning the horizon with a troubled expression. She turned back to the man.

  “What do you think?” she asked. “Is there a strong one nearby?”

  The man crossed his arms, eyes narrowing.

  “Most likely. There are no spawn anywhere in this region,” he replied grimly. “That only happens when something stronger has already wiped them out. It’s only a matter of time before it comes for us.”

  Vale’s unease deepened.

  Then both of them stiffened.

  Their gazes locked onto a distant cliff.

  Vale followed their line of sight, and his stomach twisted violently.

  Something stood atop the cliff.

  At first glance, it resembled a man.

  Its skin was pale, unnaturally so, nearly the same white as the sun above, smeared with fresh, drying blood. Its eyes were hollow voids, empty and lifeless, yet fixed forward with intent. A dark, unnatural smile was carved across its face as its hair drifted aimlessly in the wind.

  Then Vale saw its wings.

  They were not feathers.

  They were flesh.

  Fresh flesh.

  The wings were formed from the bodies of infants, their skin stitched together, their faces frozen in agony. Umbilical cords dangled like grotesque tendrils, swaying as the creature spread its wings wide.

  Then the mouths moved.

  Dozens of tiny mouths opened at once.

  And they screamed.

  A chorus of infant cries echoed across the wasteland, announcing the monster’s arrival.

  Vale felt bile rise in his throat as the memory unfolded around him, and he realized, too late, that he was witnessing the beginning of something truly horrific.

  The woman turned toward the man, fear and fury warring openly across her face. A single drop of sweat slid down her cheek, catching the harsh white light of the sun before vanishing against her armor.

  “It’s strong… isn’t it?” she asked quietly.

  The man did not answer at first.

  He stood rigid, eyes locked onto the grotesque, angelic silhouette atop the cliff, his expression frozen somewhere between calculation and dread.

  Vale followed his gaze, revulsion curling deep in his chest. Instinctively, he reached out with his senses, probing the creature’s presence.

  It answered him.

  And in doing so, shattered something inside him.

  The pressure was overwhelming, crushing, ancient and absolute. Vale’s breath caught as a fear unlike anything he had ever experienced surged through him. This was not merely a powerful spawn.

  No.

  This was a Crowned Spawn.

  A being that had reached the tenth stage of evolution.

  Creatures of that rank were not hunted by armies, nor slain by legends. They were confronted by gods, or not at all. Worse still, this one was intelligent. Not cunning in the animal sense, but truly, terrifyingly aware. Its movements, its posture, even that obscene smile.

  None of it was performative.

  Those wings were not meant to inspire fear.

  They were trophies.

  This thing was not preparing for battle.

  It was preparing for a hunt.

  And the two before it were not enemies.

  They were prey.

  The woman clenched her fists, steel ringing softly as her gauntlets tightened.

  “Leave,” she said suddenly, voice firm despite the tremor beneath it. “I’ll hold it off. Close the gate. I won’t be coming back.”

  The man snapped out of his paralysis instantly.

  “Leave you?” he barked, spinning toward her. “Do you seriously think I would abandon you to that thing, Artoria? You’re my wife, not some soldier I can sacrifice!”

  Vale’s eyes widened slightly despite his terror.

  The woman stepped forward and struck him across the face.

  The sound echoed sharply through the wasteland.

  “Do you think we have a choice?” she shouted. “You are the strongest. You are humanity’s hope. If that thing reaches the world beyond this gate, everything dies!”

  Her voice cracked, but she did not falter.

  “You have to make sure it never sees the light of day,” she continued, tears welling despite her fury. “Even if it costs me my life.”

  She paused, lowering her hand, her expression softening as she looked at him.

  “Don’t you understand that, Dagon?”

  Vale stiffened.

  The name struck him like a physical blow.

  Slowly, almost unwillingly, he turned and looked at the man again.

  Dagon.

  Humanity’s greatest warrior.

  The man who would one day wipe out his own kind.

  And before him stood something even he could not defeat.

  Yet none of that mattered in this moment.

  All Vale could see was the weight on Dagon’s shoulders, the unbearable burden of survival placed upon a single man.

  Artoria’s voice softened further as a tear finally slipped free.

  “Someone has to take care of our little Alexandria,” she said quietly.

  Vale froze.

  The world seemed to tilt.

  Thoughts collided violently in his mind as realization dawned. Alexandria, Chimera’s true name. The daughter of Rose’s dear friend. A child tied to Dagon’s past, to a lineage of warriors and sacrifice.

  The pieces snapped together with horrifying clarity.

  Vale stared at the two figures, at the woman in white armor and the man in black, locked in a moment of love, grief, and inevitability.

  “They’re her parents…” he whispered, barely audible even to himself.

  The memory pressed onward, merciless and unchanging, as Vale stood helplessly within it, witness to the beginning of a tragedy that would echo through history.