Path of the Unmentioned: The Missing Piece-Chapter 62: Endless Void [2]

(Back in the Solvayne Academy — Classroom A1)

Eleanora’s fingers tightened around her quill.

The morning sunlight streaming through the classroom windows felt too bright, too cheerful for the unease settling in her chest.

Her gaze kept drifting to the empty seat beside Reo.

Kyle’s seat.

He hadn’t come to class today.

A small crease formed between her brows as she tapped the quill against her notebook.

The sound blended with the low murmur of students around her, the whispers about weekend plans, complaints about homework.

But the absence beside Reo’s seat was louder than any of it for her.

’Where is he?’

She hadn’t seen him since Friday.

Hadn’t caught that familiar flash of bluish-black hair in the hallways, hadn’t heard his dry remarks during lectures.

Serena, sitting to her left, turned a page in her textbook with deliberate precision. Without looking up, she spoke, her voice cool and detached.

"Kyle’s missing?" freewebnoveℓ.com

Eleanora didn’t glance at her. "Seems so."

Serena’s fingers paused on the edge of the page. "Unusual. He’s not the type to skip without reason."

A pause.

The words hung between them, heavier than they should have been.

Then, softer, almost too quiet to hear:

"You are worried."

Eleanora’s fingers stilled.

Of course she is worried.

Kyle wasn’t reckless, but he was...what she can say unpredictable.

And ever since she had regressed. Ever since she had seen how his story was supposed to end...

She exhaled through her nose, forcing her grip to loosen. "Just noting his absence."

"Is that so."

Eleanora didn’t respond.

But her fingers curled slightly against the desk.

’Where are you, Kyle?’

And more importantly—

’Why does it feel like you’re doing something dangerous again?’

***

Kyle walked in the endless dark.

There was no ground beneath his feet but somehow he can still walk.

No sky above his head. Just... nothing.

An infinite emptiness that swallowed every sound, every sensation, until even his own breathing seemed to disappear.

His body moved without thought, one sluggish step after another.

There was no reason to walk.

No destination to reach.

But some deep, some part of him refused to stop.

’Why am I moving?’

The question drifted through his mind like smoke, dissolving before he could grasp it.

Memories slipped through his mind—his name, his past, the sharp ache in his chest that he couldn’t name.

It all faded, piece by piece, until even the loss didn’t matter.

This void... this place... was... kind.

Soft.

Quiet.

It cradled him. It whispered that he didn’t need to fight anymore.

That he could just... let it go.

And so he did.

His legs stilled.

His mismatched eyes—one blue, one black—once so sharp and bright, now stared blankly ahead, dulled as a blank mirror.

The darkness beneath him shifted, rising like black water, warm and welcoming.

Yes.

Just... stop.

He didn’t resist.

Why would he?

There was no pain here.

No fear.

No memories of blood on his hands or the weight of a sword in his grip.

Just...

Nothing.

And nothing was so much easier.

Then—

A touch.

Cool fingers brushed against his shoulders from behind, catching him just before the void could swallow him whole.

He didn’t react. Didn’t turn.

But the presence behind him was undeniable.

A woman.

Her form shimmered blue and translucent, like morning mist caught in sunlight. She wasn’t really there.

Not in the way that mattered and yet, her arms wrapped around him from behind, holding him upright.

Her embrace was weightless. A ghost’s touch.

But it was enough.

She leaned in, her lips grazing his ear as she whispered.

"Fight back...Don’t let it control you."

Her voice was soft. Beautiful. Familiar.

Like a song he had heard in a long forgotten dream.

"You have to escape. You have to remember who you really are..."

A pause.

A breath.

"...Ethan."

The name meant nothing to him.

’Ethan?’

’Was that... him?’

He didn’t know.

Kyle—Ethan?—remained still, his body limp, his mind adrift.

But something inside him...

Stirred.

A flicker.

A spark.

Like the last ember of a dying fire, fighting against the dark.

The woman’s fingers tightened, just slightly, against his shoulders.

"Ethan."

The word echoed in his mind, louder this time.

And then—

Click.

It all rushed back.

The truck. The transmigration. The name Kyle Valemont. The Academy. His Sister Aurelia. The sword. The Vipers.

He remembered.

The void shuddered.

Glowing white cracks spiderwebbed through the darkness, spreading faster and faster until—

CRACK.

The world shattered like glass.

Kyle gasped.

Cold stone pressed against his back.

The coppery stench of blood filled his nose, thick and metallic. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, dry as parchment.

He was back.

Back in Garrick’s office. Back in the Viper hideout.

The dead bodies of Risha and others are still lying on the floor.

’I am Alive.’

His chest heaved as he gulped down air like a drowning man breaking the surface.

His fingers twitched, nails scraping against the rough floor, just to feel something—anything—solid.

The dim light of the hideout’s lanterns stung his eyes after the endless dark.

The air smelled of smoke, blood, and something faintly sour...spilled liquor, maybe.

His body ached, not from running. But from the sheer weight of returning to reality.

His muscles trembled, weak like a newborn’s. Every breath felt like lifting a boulder.

’How long was I gone?’

He forced himself to sit up, wincing as his head throbbed. The room spun for a moment before settling

His vision swam, blurring at the edges. He blinked hard, willing himself to focus.

No Vipers had come into the room yet.

’Good.’

His gaze flicked to the clock on Garrick’s desk.

Only seconds or maybe a minute had passed.

Relief washed over him, sharp and sudden.

He was still clutching the hilt of the sword. But when he looked down, his breath caught in his throat.

The decorative curved blade he had picked up was gone.

In its place was a sleek, black-sheathed tachi.

Its handle wrapped in dark leather, the guard a simple, elegant circle of polished steel.

The scabbard gleamed faintly under the flickering lantern light, as if drinking in the shadows.

’That trial wasn’t a hallucination.’

It was real.

And so was this sword.

His fingers tightened around the hilt. The metal hummed faintly against his palm, like a sleeping beast stirring.

He needed to get out of here.

Now.

Kyle moved to store the sword in his storage ring, but then paused.

’Can it change shape again?’

He focused, imagining the blade shrinking, condensing, reshaping itself into something smaller. Something inconspicuous.

A ring.

The sword shimmered, its form wavering like heat haze.

Then, in a blink, it was gone, replaced by a simple black ring resting in his palm.

Kyle exhaled sharply.

’Good.’

He slipped it onto his left hand’s index finger.

The metal was cool against his skin, but not uncomfortably so.

It felt... alive. Like it was watching him.

He couldn’t take any risks here.

Pushing himself to his feet. He staggered slightly before finding his balance.

His legs still felt unsteady, as if they hadn’t quite remembered how to hold his weight.

***