thief of fate-Chapter 96: conflict

The ground beneath his feet was still trembling, as if the pulse of the world itself had faltered. Blood, ash, and screams filled the horizon—but in that moment... everything seemed silent.

Standing before him, he neither moved nor attacked, nor did he draw a weapon.

The man with white hair and red eyes stared at Valerian with an intense gaze, as if stripping him of his very self.

"What’s your name?"

The voice held no emotion, no hesitation—but it wasn’t cold.

It was a question... like a test.

Or a bargain.

Valerian didn’t answer immediately.

His breath was ragged, his body exhausted, his mind scattered. But he felt... that the answer mattered.

More than survival. More than fighting.

"I..."

He hesitated for a moment, as if the word was stuck in his throat.

"I’m Valerian."

Not a second after his reply... he fell.

One strike.

Swift. Sudden. Brutal... yet it wasn’t meant to kill.

Axel hadn’t moved like a warrior. He didn’t swing a sword, nor even approach.

His hand was still at his side—but the force... the force had been pumped into the very air itself and smashed into Valerian’s body.

The young man was flung back, crashing into a tree ten meters away. Stones cracked behind him.

He gasped, coughed blood, and looked up with trembling eyes, unable to understand.

"What’s your name?"

The same question, same calmness.

As if the strike had been nothing more than a pause.

Valerian slowly sat up, rising despite the pain splitting through his ribs, and glared at the man now walking towards him in quiet steps.

"I told you... I’m Valerian."

His voice was a mix of anger and confusion.

Axel smiled.

A tilted smile—without mockery, but something else entirely.

"Strange."

He said it quietly.

Then added, in a low voice:

"Because I’m Valerian."

Time stopped.

Or at least, that’s how it felt to Valerian.

He had expected anything. Any identity. Any threat.

But this?

This hadn’t crossed even his worst nightmares.

"What...?"

He didn’t let him finish.

A second strike.

Stronger.

The ground beneath Valerian lifted, something snapped in his shoulder, and he crashed to the dirt, rolling several meters before stopping, gasping as if the air had betrayed his lungs.

He no longer heard the screaming arena, nor the echo of massacre.

There was only... this voice, these blows, this man.

"What’s your name?"

For the third time.

With the same chill.

But something changed.

This time, Valerian didn’t respond quickly.

He felt something inside him... tearing. Not his body, but something deeper. As if his very name no longer belonged to him.

He crawled slightly, then lifted his head with tear-filled eyes:

"I..."

He breathed slowly, then roared with a broken voice:

"I am Valerian!"

The silence that followed his cry was haunting.

Axel smiled... no, the man claiming to be Valerian.

And he said, in a whisper-like tone:

"I know."

He stepped closer and knelt in front of him.

For a moment... he looked human.

"But the difference between us is... I never forgot who I am."

He raised his hand and placed a finger on Valerian’s forehead.

"And you... were forgotten."

His eyes ignited crimson, and Valerian’s body trembled violently.

Images.

Voices.

Visions that didn’t belong to this world.

A child crying in a place without a sky.

Screams between glass corridors.

A circle of fire, a broken sword, and a name repeated over and over... Valerian... Valerian... Valerian...

Then darkness.

He withdrew his finger and slowly pulled his hand back, as if something had been completed.

"Now..."

Axel whispered, his voice sounding more human.

"Ask yourself... are you Valerian? Or just a fragment of him?"

But that moment—when doubt could’ve destroyed everything inside Valerian—did not last.

A soft explosion.

A hesitant, tense step... then another.

Something approaching.

Axel turned his head slowly.

Then smiled.

"At last..."

He said it like someone welcoming a long-awaited visitor.

Zenith appeared.

His hair was disheveled, his blade resting on his shoulder, and his eyes glowed with indescribable fury.

But he... knew where he had arrived.

The path led him here.

A path carved by blood and death.

"You..."

He said, stepping forward again.

"You’re the reason, aren’t you?"

Axel didn’t respond.

He looked at him, as if seeing him was a reward.

"She led me here."

Zenith continued, referring to his system—which hadn’t shown him anything new since then.

"And I’m no longer running. Not now."

He stood between Valerian and Axel.

Axel looked at him for a moment... then stood.

"Zenith... you’ve finally come."

He said it like a greeting.

But his tone wasn’t ordinary.

It carried something only someone part of the plan could understand.

Valerian, barely able to stand, barely able to breathe, asked in a faint voice:

"What... what do you mean?"

Zenith didn’t answer.

But he planted his foot and raised his sword.

"Whoever you are... you’ll step away from him."

Axel laughed.

A short laugh, as if in pity.

"Really?"

Then he raised his hand and pointed to the ground behind him.

In that moment, the earth shook, and a passage appeared... dark.

"Come, Zenith. Come see the truth."

But Zenith, despite all the shock, didn’t move.

"I’m not going with you."

Axel nodded, as if he expected that answer.

Then said:

"But you will. All of you will."

He extended his right hand... and in it, a shard appeared.

A small piece of something that shouldn’t exist.

"This... is the first shard."

He looked at Valerian:

"And you, bearer of the name... you have none of it."

Then he vanished.

Simply... as if existence meant nothing to him.

He left behind silence, shock... and a shard of madness.

The moment Axel disappeared and the air grew still, the ground trembled again... not from a weapon, nor from a beast’s roar—but from tearing.

A rip in the air.

As if the world, with all its laws and borders, opened inward.

Dark light—not white, nor black... but a color without a name—spilled into the broken arena, and for moments, it felt like everything had returned to the beginning.

When Valerian opened his eyes... he found himself there.

Again.

Same arena.

Same blood.

Same destruction.

Scattered soldiers, distant wails, Selina screaming as she’s dragged, Kyle calling his name through smoke, and the sky cracked with arcane magic.

"No... no... we already escaped this!"

Valerian screamed, struggling to stand, looking in every direction.

Even Zenith, who rarely showed hesitation, looked disoriented.

"When did we return?"

He said it quietly, examining the signs... the corpses, the burnt trees, the tears on the ground.

But the voice that followed... wasn’t of this world.

"You never escaped."

It was Axel—or the other—and he appeared from nothing, atop a crumbling tower, looking down on them like a heartless judge.

"Escape was never an option. Never possible."

He paused, then raised his hand and pulled the air as if drawing back a curtain.

"You, who call yourselves Valerian and Zenith... you are transferred. Chosen. And this... is your fate."

He stepped down from the tower with light steps. The ground made no sound under his feet.

He approached... and seemed to carry no sword, no weapon.

Yet he was heavier than any threat.

"Only one of us may remain. The others... must vanish."

He looked first at Zenith.

Then at Valerian, torn, trembling, clinging to what remained of his consciousness.

"I am the original Valerian. And from the moment my identity was stolen... this meeting was written."

His voice grew darker:

"And I’m here... to reclaim what’s mine."

Zenith stepped forward, his grip igniting.

"What do you mean by that? What do you mean ’chosen’? Who chose us? Why?!"

But Axel didn’t respond directly.

He looked at Valerian, smiling crookedly.

"Ask him. Your little friend knows."

Zenith froze, looking at Valerian, whose eyes widened, jaw trembling.

"I don’t... I don’t know what he’s talking about!"

Valerian said, stepping back, as if everything was falling apart.

Axel tilted his head slightly, and whispered:

"Or maybe I should call you by your real name... Ethan."

...

The earth went still. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

As if the air itself choked.

Even Zenith... felt something break.

"Ethan?!"

He looked at Valerian, hesitant, confused, wary.

"What is this lunatic talking about?!"

But Valerian... didn’t answer.

As if the blow wasn’t physical this time.

But struck the core of his heart, a buried memory he wasn’t ready to awaken.

A name... no one here had heard.

A name... he thought was buried the day he woke up in this world.

"How... do you know that?"

Valerian said, his voice a broken whisper.

Axel didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at Zenith with contempt.

"You were following signals. Running. Searching for a goal. But I’m not the goal, Zenith. I was never what you were chasing."

He took a step closer.

"You were chasing him."

Then pointed at Valerian, and his words were daggers:

"You were looking for him. Ethan."

Zenith moved. His sword blazed with fury.

"Enough madness!"

And he lunged at him.

But Axel... didn’t step back.

Didn’t block the strike.

He vanished... again.

Only his voice remained.

"The real fun... hasn’t begun yet."

The ground split open.

Cracks of darkness, then crawling sounds.

Roars. Screams. Panting.

And they emerged.

Hundreds of Arkanis.

Some crawling, some winged, some formless.

But they all shared one trait:

Their ranks were low.

But their numbers... were vast.

As if Axel had opened a door to a small hell, and let them seep out one by one.

"Endless battle..."

Valerian whispered, raising his trembling sword.

"He wants to exhaust us."

Zenith stood beside him.

Despite the confusion, the shock—he would not retreat.

"Then let hell begin."

He said it as he charged his energy.

And they attacked.

Blood, fire, roaring, and screams... all returned.

But it wasn’t just a battle.

It was a test.

And Axel’s test... was not random.

A struggle for survival.

Among three...

Only one may remain.