The silence in his bedroom felt heavier than usual. Val, exhausted from his late-night training in their own gym in the manor, thought a night's rest might ease his mind, but the pull of his dreams had other plans.

As he closed his eyes, images swirled into shape, unbidden yet familiar.

He found himself back in the orphanage's worn halls, the dim lights casting long shadows. But instead of comfort, a haunting emptiness filled the scene.

Bo's laughter, Riggs' mischievous grin—these should have been joyful memories, yet now each one felt distant, like faint stars in a fading night sky. The creak of the old wooden floors echoed around him, and he could almost smell the familiar scent of worn books and faded paint.

"Hey, Rein!" Bo's younger voice cut through the air, clear and innocent, the nickname a mark of their bond before Val had known of his true heritage. Val turned and saw a vision of Bo as a child, staring at him with wide, earnest eyes. "Why don't you ever smile?"

Before he could answer, Riggs joined them, tugging on Val's arm. "You're always so serious, Rein! Come on, just one game with us." The innocence in their voices felt like a balm and a wound all at once—a time when he'd known nothing of war or bloodlines, only friendship and laughter.

"They were your family before you knew who you truly were," Deleo murmured, watching with Val, which formed as a spectral shadowy presence. "You've always drawn people to you, despite the darkness that you carry."

But even as Val tried to savor the memory, it changed, like a storm cloud creeping over a clear sky. The walls of the orphanage began to tremble, thick smoke filling the air. Flames licked the walls, their orange light casting eerie shadows that danced in twisted shapes. Val heard Bo's panicked shout, Riggs calling out to him, but his legs felt frozen, powerless to help as the fire consumed everything.

"Bo! Riggs!" His own voice echoed back to him, raw and desperate. But the flames grew higher, obscuring his vision, and the memory faded into darkness.

Before Val could call out further, a shift in the air pulled him from his reverie, drawing him deeper into a memory not his own.

The world changed around him. The familiar orphanage dissolved, replaced by stone walls adorned with banners—Reinhart's last battleground. Val's heart pounded as he realized he was standing where Reinhart once stood. Every breath tasted of blood and dust. He felt Reinhart's agony, the wounds on his body fresh and raw, each one a searing reminder of betrayal.

Reinhart's voice surged in Val's mind, a tone of disbelief and sorrow as he tried to understand why his allies had turned on him. "How could they… I fought beside them…"

In the shadows, Deleo appeared—not in a form Val recognized, but as a faint echo, almost a memory himself, watching Reinhart fall. The betrayal had shaken even him, for Reinhart had been more than a vessel. He had been Deleo's closest bond to humanity.

Val felt the exact moment Reinhart's heart shattered, a fierce blow from an unseen assailant piercing his body and soul. Flames surged—Reinhart's Purple Fire, and the faint Void—trying to retaliate, but his strength was slipping, drowning in despair. All Val could see was Reinhart's blood soaking the floor, a tragic end for the proud warrior.

Deleo's voice drifted like a whisper. "I was powerless. I couldn't save him…" A bitterness lingered, born from a grief still fresh, even a century later.

Just as Reinhart's vision darkened, Val was ripped back to his own consciousness, gasping for air. Pain throbbed through his chest, a remnant of the wound that had killed his ancestor. As his heart rate steadied, he looked up, catching a glimpse of Deleo's presence beside him, which was a first for Val for Deleo to appear outside of his consciousness

For the first time, he understood the depth of Deleo's loss. This was why Deleo clung so tightly, why he saw Reinhart in Val's every struggle.

Val's voice broke the silence. "You saw him die."

Deleo's form flickered, his usual confidence replaced by a vulnerability Val had never seen. "I could only watch. He was bound to me, and I… I failed him." His voice held a tremor, a depth of sorrow that was almost painful to hear.

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For a moment, Deleo's usual confidence faded, and Val glimpsed a sorrowful truth: Deleo's attachment wasn't just possessiveness. It was a wound left by the death of the only person he had ever truly connected with.

Although, he felt Deleo's regret and pain with Reinhart's loss, Val, who also saw the memories of Bo and Riggs, shakes him. The memories he does have of the orphanage are fragmented, focused on the place but leaving out the people who mattered. Bo and Riggs come to mind, and he feels a painful gap. For them, he was "Rein," the friend who watched over them; yet for him, they're strangers.

"Then why do you keep me alive?" Val's voice was sharp, filled with confusion and anger. "Am I just a replacement to you?"

Deleo paused, his gaze meeting Val's. "You're not a replacement, Val. But you… remind me of the strength Reinhart once had. Of the person he was before all of this." His voice softened, almost tender. "You carry his legacy, but you're more than that. You're your own person—and despite the pain, I… I want to see what you become."

His breath hitched, and in a moment of clarity, he realizes that Deleo's presence had been with him even back then, subtly taking over to protect him from hidden dangers.

Val swallowed, the weight of Reinhart's life, Bo's memory, and Deleo's sorrow bearing down on him. "I don't know if I can live up to what Reinhart was," he admitted, his voice trembling. "I don't know if I even want to."

Deleo's gaze hardened, a flicker of the old fire returning to his eyes. "Reinhart was strong, but he was also flawed. Don't aspire to be him, Val. Aspire to be better. To be someone who can carry that pain but still rise above it."

Val's fists clenched.

He realized that Bo and Riggs, the times they spent during training few years back, he was wondering whether Val have remembered them, or not, trying to approach him.

Val could only put both his hands on his face, and sighed heavily. He closed his eyes, and in his consciousness, he wanted to talk to Deleo face to face.

Now, he was in a white space, in his consciousness, with the big black sphere floating steadily, and the Purple Fire surrounding it. Beside it, there stood Deleo, his back facing Val.

When Deleo felt Val that he is inside in his own consciousness, he merely turned his head to glance at Val.

Deleo asked, "Why are you here?"

Val could only frown at his question, but still answered, "This is my own consciousness, am I not allowed in my own home?"

Deleo could only chuckle.

Val continued, "Say. Why did you intentionally remove my memories of Bo and Riggs during my time at the orphanage? I could have told them when we met years later, when I met the team, when I met them, that it was me!", his voice of that anger but controlled, although he understood Deleo's protectiveness, he was still confused in his emotions.

Every emotion he felt, from Deleo, from Reinhart, and the memories with Bo and Riggs, it's all too much.

Deleo's eyes narrowed, and his voice softened, though a hint of defensiveness lingered. "I erased those memories to protect you. You were just a child, and they… they were vulnerabilities. Do you understand? You had no power then. They would've been used against you."

Val's voice rose, raw and edged. "You stole my memories, Deleo! You didn't just protect me—you took something from me, something I'll never get back. I deserved to remember Bo and Riggs, to have the choice to decide who they were to me."

Deleo's eyes flashed, a hint of his usual fire returning. "And what would you have done with that knowledge, Val?" he retorted. "Do you really think remembering them would've spared you any pain? If anything, it would've only shackled you more to a past you couldn't change. I've seen the bonds of friendship destroy those far stronger than you. I wasn't going to let that happen."

"You think this is about strength?" Val shot back. "It's about trust. I trusted you to guide me, not to hide pieces of my life because you thought I couldn't handle them. I want the truth, not a life built on your version of what's 'safe' for me."

For a brief, simmering moment, silence hung between them, and in that silence, Deleo's voice softened, as though he was struggling to keep his emotions buried.

"I had to watch Reinhart die because he trusted too much—because he let people in, Val. Do you know what it's like to stand helpless as the person you care for the most is betrayed, ripped away, and there's nothing, nothing, you can do to save them?"

Val's expression hardened, his hands clenching into fists. "Don't compare me to Reinhart. You keep acting like I'm just his shadow, as if I'm only here to repeat his story. I don't want to be him—I want to be myself."

Deleo looked away, his shoulders tensing. "You think I haven't tried to let go? That I haven't fought with every part of me to move past his memory?"

His voice cracked, a fissure of raw emotion surfacing. "Every time I look at you, Val, I see a chance to do things right, to finally let go of the mistakes I made… and maybe, just maybe, to honor the life that was lost."

Val's anger wavered, but the betrayal he felt outweighed any sympathy. "Then if you cared so much, you should've given me the freedom to know my own past," he said, each word cold and deliberate. "I'm not here to relive Reinhart's tragedy or to give you a second chance at redemption. I'm here to find my own truth—and if you can't accept that, then you're no protector of mine."

Deleo's form trembled, as though struggling to hold itself together. "Fine. Go, find your truth. But know this, Val: the deeper you dig, the closer you come to the darkness that claimed him. Remember that before you condemn me."

With that, Val turned, leaving Deleo behind in the stark white of his own consciousness.

The words echoed in his mind as he returned to reality, their conversation unresolved and his conviction steeling into something dangerously resolute.