Vale gazed out before him, toward the obsidian mountains that encircled the crimson sea. From this great distance, the mountains looked small, miniature even, silhouettes of glass and stone, but he knew their size was vast. It was only the distance that humbled them.
The wind was absent here. The air was still and heavy, leaving Vale's black hair hanging before his pale eyes, motionless. The only light came from above, a pale white sky that twisted and convulsed with red and black clouds. At its heart hung the black suns, silent and unmoving, bleeding faint shadows across the dead landscape.
Vale's eyes were fixed on a single point far away, at the base of the mountains. There, in that endless stretch of black stone, something broke the uniform darkness: a red stain. It was faint at first, like a wound opening on the mountain's surface, but as he looked closer, he realized what it was.
A hand.
A colossal, blood-red hand was pressing through the other side of the mountains, its fingers clawing into the obsidian as it began to climb.
Behind Vale sat the chained man. His posture was still, his face hidden behind an obsidian mask that mirrored the mountains themselves. His gaze, though unseen, was fixed on the same point. Yet there was no tension in his body, no hint of fear. He watched the crawling hand as one might watch the tide return, inevitable and unremarkable.
Vale tore his eyes from the mountains and looked back at the chained figure. The man didn't move. He didn't even breathe, or if he did, the sound was lost in the stillness.
"What the hell is that?" Vale muttered aloud, the sound of his voice strange in the silence.
The stain continued to spread. Another hand emerged, grasping the mountain's peak. The creature began to pull itself up, its movements heavy and deliberate, like a marionette guided by unseen strings.
Vale exhaled slowly. If the chained man wasn't afraid, perhaps there was no need to be. The man had been here longer, far longer. If he didn't see danger, then maybe Vale was overreacting.
'I wonder what it looks like,' Vale thought, his eyes narrowing as he watched the black stone crack beneath those hands.
One after another, more arms appeared they were red, sinewed and glistening like raw muscle. They clawed and tore, dragging something enormous up from behind the mountain range. The air began to hum with a low, distant vibration, a sound like the earth itself straining to bear the creature's weight.
Finally, as the thing lifted its body higher, Vale caught a glimpse of its head.
It was the face of a human, or rather, what was left of one. The skin had been stripped away, leaving a grotesque mask of muscle and veins stretched over bone. And yet it moved, twisting with purpose, its eyeless sockets turning toward him.
Vale's breath caught. The monster had ten arms, each one thick and slick with blood, and it was climbing, climbing toward them.
And still, the chained man did not move.
The monster climbed higher and higher up the obsidian mountains. Its massive torso was now fully visible, blood-red and glistening, just like its face. Its flesh was raw, its muscle fibers and organs exposed, yet they did not spill or tear. Everything about it seemed to defy the laws of the living.
By now, Vale could see that the creature stood nearly half as tall as the mountains themselves—perhaps even taller. As its legs came into view, he realized that they were wrong in shape and number. Too many limbs jutted from the same places, each moving with jerky, unnatural precision. The result was an awkward, twitching giant that was almost painful to watch. To any normal person, the sight would have been enough to paralyze them with terror.
But Vale was not normal.
Fear was something that seemed distant to him, something he could observe but not feel. Why that was, even he didn't know. All he understood was that, no matter how monstrous or horrifying the creature before him appeared, he couldn't bring himself to be afraid, not truly.
He was… fascinated.
He watched as the thing's head turned toward him, its eyeless sockets glistening with dark wetness, and instead of recoiling, Vale found himself admiring its sheer scale.
At last, the creature crested the mountains. It stood tall against the pale sky, a grotesque titan of raw flesh and exposed sinew. And then, perhaps because of its uneven, tangled legs, it stumbled.
In a clumsy, almost pitiful motion, the monster tripped over itself and toppled forward, tumbling down the black slopes. The sound of its fall echoed through the still air like distant thunder, rolling across the endless red sea.
Vale couldn't help but chuckle.
"It might be a monster," he muttered under his breath, "but it's still clumsier than most people."
He watched as the creature rose again, dragging its many limbs beneath it. Now it lay sprawled across the crimson sea, the blood rippling around its enormous form.
Behind him, Vale heard the faint sound of chains shifting. He turned and saw that the chained man, who had sat motionless for so long, was now standing. Slowly, methodically, he began to walk toward Vale, the black chains dragging behind him and hissing softly against the surface of the ocean.
When he reached Vale's side, the air felt heavier, denser. Vale glanced at him, uncertain.
"So," he began, breaking the silence, "do you have a plan for this one?"
The chained man gave a small nod. Then, in a voice that was quiet yet carried across the blood-soaked plain, he spoke:
"Ecmo ot em thorn."
The words were strange, but as soon as they were uttered, the blood beneath their feet began to react.
It started to tremble, rippling violently as though something immense stirred beneath the surface. Vale took an involuntary step back.
"What's happening?" he whispered, eyes darting between the red waves and the silent man beside him.
The vibrations grew stronger. The blood began to boil, bubbling and steaming, but oddly, Vale felt no pain, no heat, not even discomfort. The air shimmered with energy. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.
The sea became still once more. Its surface smoothed, calm and lukewarm again, except for one spot.
Directly beneath the chained man's feet, a single ripple remained. Subtle and Persistent.
Vale's gaze fixed on it. The ripple deepened and darkened, and then something began to emerge.
A long, slender shape broke the surface: a creature, small compared to the titan that had fallen, but strange and terrible in its own way. Its body was segmented and metallic, a deep red that glinted like liquid iron. Countless legs rippled along its sides, carrying it upward as it climbed the chained man's body with eerie grace.
Vale watched in stunned silence as it coiled around the man's torso and finally came to rest on his shoulder.
It turned its tiny, faceted head toward Vale.
Vale blinked, trying to process what he was seeing.
"Is that… a centipede?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The chained man turned his head toward Vale and gave a slow nod, answering the question without words. Then, with a faint creak of his shackles, he extended a single finger toward the small centipede perched on his shoulder and gently patted it atop its smooth, metallic head.
The creature reacted instantly. It arched its body and made a soft clicking sound, almost like a purr made of metal and breath. Then it rolled onto its back, exposing its many legs in what looked like sheer delight. It squirmed and twisted playfully, as if it were some loyal pet receiving affection from its master.
Vale couldn't help but smirk at the sight.
"Well," he said softly, "it is a cute one. But… how exactly is it supposed to help us deal with that thing?"
He gestured toward the distant monster, which was still struggling to find its footing in the sea of blood, its ten arms twitching like a grotesque puppet tangled in its own strings.
The chained man turned his masked face back toward Vale. For a long, silent moment, he said nothing. Then, his voice emerged, low and layered, as if two people were speaking through the same mouth.
"Luyol ese," he said. There was a pause, and then he continued:
"Hits tietl elafle si erom athn oughne."
The words meant nothing to Vale. They were from no language he knew, heavy with power and age. Yet despite not understanding, Vale could tell one thing for certain, the chained man spoke with complete confidence, as though the outcome had already been decided.
Vale exhaled through his nose and gave a half-shrug. "Alright then," he muttered. "I'll take your word for it."
The man continued to stroke the centipede for a few quiet moments, the scene strangely serene against the backdrop of the distant leviathan. Then, at last, he lowered his hand. The centipede clicked once, as if acknowledging an order, and crawled down his arm, pausing briefly at his wrist before slipping soundlessly into the red sea below.
It disappeared beneath the surface, leaving only a single ripple that spread outward in perfect circles.
Vale watched closely. The creature's path was easy to follow, the ripples traced its movement through the thick, glimmering blood, a faint disturbance racing toward the distant monster. But something was wrong. The ripples weren't fading.
Normally, the water, or blood, whatever this sea was, would have stilled with distance. But these waves stayed strong, pulsing outward with the same power as when they began. If anything, they were growing.
Vale's eyes widened slightly as realization dawned. The centipede wasn't just moving forward, it was growing.
Meter by meter, it expanded beneath the surface, its body lengthening, thickening, its countless legs carving trails through the crimson depths. The ripples became larger, heavier, their edges splashing against the black stone at the sea's edge.
Vale's lips curved into a slow, satisfied grin.
"Well," he murmured, watching the disturbance race toward the towering monster, "who knew that little insect could be so dangerous?"
The monster turned, its many heads, or what passed for heads, facing the direction of the approaching waves. The blood beneath it began to churn violently, the entire sea trembling as the growing shape surged closer.
It wouldn't be long now.
And as Vale stood there beside the chained man, watching the ripples stretch and twist toward their colossal foe, he realized that what he was about to witness was no mere battle.
It was the meeting of two collosal powers.