Clint narrowed his eyes, still silent.
Vale tilted his head and gave a quick glance over Clint's body, not in a mocking way—but like someone analyzing him.
"Damn," he muttered. "You're stronger than you look. That knee earlier? If I hadn't moved, I'd be eating through a straw for a week."
Clint didn't respond, but Vale kept going.
"You've got a small frame, lean muscle, precise movement. You fight like someone trained. Efficient, fast… brutal, if needed."
Clint scoffed, but his stance lowered just a little. "You done staring?"
Vale raised both hands, amused. "Hey, it's rare to meet someone summoned with an actual backbone. Most are still crying at this point."
Clint stepped back slightly, not out of fear, but to keep distance. "I don't cry," he said coldly. "And I don't trust easily. You better start talking, why did you help me, really?"
Vale smiled again, "Because we don't have much time, and I'm not with them."
He pointed his thumb behind him, where the forest trail twisted in shadows. "You want answers? You'll get them. But first… we have to move."
The moon above peeked through the trees, and the forest around them felt colder the deeper they went.
After a while, Vale turned his head. "We'll move faster if I carry you," he said casually.
Clint frowned. "What?"
"You're still barefoot, half-dressed, tired. Let me just-"
"I said no," Clint cut him off, "I can run just fine."
Vale shrugged But then he stepped closer and suddenly reached out—fast.
Clint reacted immediately.
His hand shot up, twisting Vale's wrist aside and blocking the grab cleanly. His other hand snapped forward, palm angled just under Vale's elbow. The movement was smooth, sharp, precise—trained.
Vale blinked, surprised.
Then he smiled. "Oh?"
He went for another move, trying to grab Clint's side this time, but Clint parried again, shifting his weight to the side, both hands dancing fluidly, wrist deflecting wrist, sharp and fast like flowing water.
Their arms clashed, turned, circled not wild punches, but skilled motion, close-quarters hand combat. Vale grinned, trying to keep up.
But Clint suddenly pivoted, slid low, and threw his shoulder into Vale's middle, flipping him straight over his back. Vale hit the ground with a heavy thud.
Clint stood above him, breathing steady, eyes cold.
Vale… laughed.
"Hah! That was amazing!" he said, lying on his back. "No one's ever thrown me like that before. That move… I've never seen it. You've got style, shortstack."
"One wrong move and I'll break your ribs. Don't test me."
But before Vale could respond, Clint paused.
A cold chill ran down his spine.
Vale wasn't laughing anymore.
His body was giving off a faint yellow glow, soft at first, but growing brighter. His blue eyes narrowed, his smile fading into something calm, unreadable. Clint's breath hitched—this feeling again.
That heavy pressure in the air.
Just like when the Duke is near, Like power that could crush bones without lifting a finger.
Clint stood up slowly, backing away. Vale stood too, He simply stepped forward.
Clint moved back again, instinct telling him this wasn't a normal guy—and that if he miscalculated, he'd regret it.
Then his back hit something solid.
A tree.
His hands raised again, ready to block or strike.
Vale stopped a few steps away. He smiled again, but this time it wasn't playful.
"See?" he said, voice lower. "You really are interesting."
Vale watched him closely, that yellow glow still pulsing faintly around his body, the air thick with pressure.
"You know," Vale said, taking a slow step forward, "when I do this… most people drop to their knees. Can't breathe. Can't think. Some even cry and beg."
He tilted his head slightly, his smile fading into something darker. "But you? There's no fear in your eyes."
Then, without warning—Vale's fist slammed into the tree, just inches from Clint's face.
Crack.
Bark split.
A small cut opened on Clint's cheek from the force, but he didn't flinch. His voice came out cold, "What the heck do you want?"
Vale blinked… then grinned.
"And you can still talk," he said, laughing. "Without stuttering. Even when I'm this close."
Clint's frown deepened, heart steady, body tense—but he didn't back down.
Vale stepped even closer.
Too close.
His face moved past Clint's cheek, and his voice dropped to a near whisper, brushing just behind his ear.
"Tell me," Vale said, his tone low and almost amused. "Do you… like men?"
Clint's eyes widened—then froze—as he felt something wet and warm. Vale's tongue brushed the edge of his ear.
That was it.
Clint's arm snapped up and shoved him back hard, pushing Vale away with a full palm to the chest.
"The fuck is wrong with you?!"
Vale stumbled back, arms up, still grinning like a madman.
"What?" he said with a shrug. "Just curious."
Vale chuckled softly, brushing the dirt off his shoulder, then slipped both hands into his pockets as if nothing had happened.
"You know," he said casually, "I heard they only summoned a straight one, But you don't look straight to me."
Clint blinked. "What?"
Vale turned his head slightly, like he was thinking out loud. "Yeah…"
Clint stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "You know why they summoned me?"
Vale's lips twitched like he'd said too much. He slowly turned back to Clint, raising one finger to his lips. "Oops. Maybe I wasn't supposed to say that."
"Don't play with me," Clint snapped, grabbing the front of Vale's cloak and yanking him forward. "You know something. Tell me how to get back to my world."
Vale stared at him for a second, blinking. Then… he sighed, almost dramatic.
"Well…"
He scratched the back of his neck and tilted his head as if unsure how to say it.
"To get back," Vale said slowly, "you'd have to make the Duke fall for you."
Clint froze.
"…What?"
Vale gave a helpless shrug. "Yeah. Pretty sure that's how it works. Or at least… that's what the circle was tuned for. Emotional bond, high mana compatibility, and all that complicated ritual nonsense. I don't make the rules."
Clint's grip tightened. "That's insane."
Vale raised an eyebrow. "Is it?"
He leaned in again, still grinning. "The Duke's into men, by the way. In case you didn't know."
Clint stared at him, jaw slightly open, blood draining from his face. "…You're kidding."
"Nope."