Vale looked curiously at the angelic being, his pale white eyes steady and expectant, waiting for an answer. The being stood there grinning wide, gleaming, almost unnervingly human in its excitement.
Finally, after a long pause, the angelic figure spoke.
"The favor," he said brightly, "is simple."
A faint shimmer passed through the mist around them, as if the realm itself leaned closer to listen.
"Take care of my child."
Vale blinked.
For a heartbeat, his mind froze, as though the words themselves refused to make sense.
"You… want me to what?"
His voice came out sharper than he intended.
"Hold on, why can't you take care of it yourself?"
The angelic being tilted his head, still smiling with that disarmingly cheerful expression. There was genuine joy radiating from him now, so different from the solemn tone he'd carried before.
"Ah, yes, that's the exciting part!" he said, almost giddy. "You see, I've finally managed to create a child of my own, the first of my kind to ever do so! Can you imagine it? The very first child born from our existence."
He laughed softly, a sound that echoed through the mist like music played through a dying star. For a brief moment, all traces of sorrow vanished from him; he looked almost radiant.
Then his tone softened, carrying a thread of regret.
"But… unfortunately, my duties have become quite demanding. I've been called elsewhere, there's simply too much that requires my attention."
He sighed, and though his voice remained smooth, something about the way he looked at the blood-red sea suggested longing.
"I cannot care for the child myself. Not yet."
Vale's brows furrowed. He crossed his arms, studying the figure.
"I see… but why me?" he asked cautiously. "I mean, no offense, but if your child is anything like you, wouldn't it try to kill me?"
It was an honest question, though Vale's tone carried a hint of awkwardness. To his surprise, the angelic figure laughed a full, bright laugh that shimmered through the dark mist.
"Oh, how marvelous!" he said, his grin widening. "That's what makes this so fascinating, you see. My child will not be like me. It will be born a divine beast, a being of pure order, untouched by the chaos that defines my kind."
There was a spark of pride in his words, an almost parental reverence.
"And as for why I chose you… well," he said, his expression turning sly, "I had planned to entrust my child to my old friend. But after witnessing your bond with his creations, I changed my mind."
Vale blinked, unsure what to make of that.
"His creations?"
"Yes," the angel said, amused. "Those little ones that cling to you, the cat, the lizard, the centipede. They were made by my friend, and yet they've chosen you over as their favorite. Quite remarkable, really. I suspect my child will take after them in more ways than one."
Vale glanced briefly at the creatures resting on his shoulders, the cat's fur glowing faintly, the lizard's eyes reflecting the light, the centipede curled calmly around his neck. They seemed to listen, as if understanding the weight of what was being discussed.
After a long silence, Vale sighed.
"Well… I suppose I can do it then. But if I'm already being protected as your child's caretaker, I'd rather ask for something else as my favor."
The angelic figure's eyes gleamed with curiosity.
"Oh?" he asked, his voice suddenly playful. "And what might that be?"
Vale smirked faintly, a rare hint of mischief slipping through his composure.
"Answer some of my questions."
For the first time, the angel's expression softened into something close to approval. He nodded once, slowly.
"Very well," he said. "Ask. I will answer what I can."
Vale's grin widened, though his voice remained low and steady.
"Perfect."
He paused briefly before asking,
"You said I lack a signature. What exactly is that?"
The angelic being's expression shifted, his curiosity replaced by mild disbelief.
"Wait," he said, brows lifting slightly. "You truly don't know?"
Vale shook his head.
"I don't."
The angel sighed, not out of frustration, but with the patient weariness of one who had explained the laws of existence far too many times before.
"Very well. I'll give you the short version."
He began to pace slowly through the mist, his steps not so much disturbing it as parting it, the darkness recoiling gently from his light.
"The full name is Atum Signature. Most simply call it a signature. It is the proof of your existence, your soul, if you wish to call it that. Every living being possesses one. It's what allows you to perceive the world, to be acknowledged by it."
He turned his head, looking directly at Vale.
"Without it, you don't exist. Not truly. Even death cannot erase a signature, for it persists beyond the end. But erasure… now that can destroy it. And yet you"
He paused, his tone lowering.
"You have none. No trace. You are an absence given shape, a hole in the fabric of reality itself."
For the first time, Vale saw the angel's smile fade completely. His voice carried a quiet tension now, a note of wariness.
"It must be the work of that man," he muttered.
Vale frowned. "That man? Who are you talking about?"
The angel's gaze dropped, his voice becoming softer, almost reverent.
"I've never met him. But according to my friend, he is… the most powerful being that could ever exist. Beyond creation, beyond destruction. The rest, I cannot say."
Vale's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of unease running through him.
The more the angelic being spoke, the more questions seemed to bloom, each answer only deepening the mystery.
The angelic being suddenly straightened, his form flickering faintly like a reflection on disturbed water.
"Ah," he said hurriedly, "it seems my friend is calling me back. My time here runs short."
He extended his hand to his side, and with a simple motion, tore open the air itself.
Reality split like fragile glass, revealing a blinding light within. From that wound in space, the angelic being reached and drew out something delicate and smooth, a pale, glowing egg, faintly pulsing with energy.
"I should say this before I go," the angelic being began, his tone suddenly brisk. "Don't worry about traveling between realms. I've already attached the egg's signature to your companion, it will follow wherever you go."
He spoke quickly now, his radiant form flickering faintly, as though he were being pulled away by unseen forces.
"Oh, and one more thing, I recommend you ask your roommate for a few books on Atum Theory. It's important you learn what it truly is… especially if you intend to defeat him."
Vale blinked.
"Defeat him?"
The angel gave a quiet, knowing smile.
"Even with most of his power sealed, I doubt you could best him through raw strength alone. If you wish to surpass him, you'll have to access that place."
His tone darkened slightly, not out of malice, but in solemn warning.
"Only there could such a thing be possible."
Before Vale could speak again, the being reached out hurriedly and pressed the pale egg into his hands. It was smooth and cold, almost weightless, yet it pulsed faintly, as if alive.
"Take good care of it," the angel said softly. "It carries more than just my bloodline, it carries my hope."
Then, with a sharp snap of motion, he turned his gaze over Vale's form from head to toe. His shadow-veiled eyes gleamed faintly, unreadable.
"Ah, yes. One last gift."
He reached once more into a shimmering rift that opened beside him, the air splitting like glass under pressure. From within, he withdrew a set of garments, black as the abyss yet shining with faint streaks of silver light. It wasn't cloth, not quite, it was an armor, humming with energy.
"It wouldn't be fair if he was the only one with armor, now would it?"
His tone carried a hint of mischief, a faint echo of laughter in the endless mist.
Before Vale could respond, the angel's form began to fade, light unraveling into shadow, his presence dissolving like smoke in a strong wind.
"Wait" Vale began, but the figure was already gone.
Only silence remained.
Silence and the faint glow of the egg resting in his palm.
Vale stood there for a long moment, staring at the place where the angel had been.
It was a shame, there were so many questions left unasked. Still, the knowledge he'd gained was invaluable. It was the first true information he had received since entering this strange realm.
He exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the cold, crimson air.
The mist around him began to shift, slowly, almost reverently, retreating like a tide. Its suffocating weight lifted, and with it came light, faint but visible. The dark haze thinned until Vale could once again see the bloody ocean stretching infinitely below.
He looked down at the egg resting in his hand. It was small, no larger than a heart, and faintly warm to the touch. Despite its fragile appearance, he could feel the immense power sealed within, power that dwarfed comprehension, power that could make even the greatest of monsters tremble.
"A child of that being…" Vale murmured under his breath. "Just what are you?"
The egg pulsed once, softly, as if answering.
And then, from beyond the clearing mist, a familiar voice echoed, quiet and steady.
Vale turned.
The chained man stood there once more.
His long black hair flowed gently in the lingering haze. His broken armor caught the light of the five black suns above, gleaming faintly like polished obsidian. The gaping wound that had once pierced his chest was gone, healed completely. Only faint scars remained, like shadows burned into his skin.
He stepped closer, silent as ever. His masked face tilted slightly, gaze falling not upon Vale, but upon the egg in his hand. For a moment, the world itself seemed to hold its breath.
The chained man sighed quietly, a sound both weary and immense, before turning away. Without a word, he began walking toward the center of the five dark suns, his chains dragging faintly behind him across the scarlet sea.
Vale hesitated, looking down at the egg once more. The armor the angel had given him shimmered faintly in his other hand, black and smooth, waiting.
He tightened his grip on both.
"So be it," he whispered.
Then he followed, silent steps across the crimson surface, trailing behind the chained man as the last remnants of the mist dispersed into nothingness.
There would be time for questions later.
For now, he walked, carrying the egg of a monster, the armor of a fallen star, and the faintest flicker of purpose within a world that had long forgotten the meaning of light.