Klein's shortsword struck again, but this time, Vale parried the blow with practised ease. With a fluid twist of his blade, he disarmed the student—sending the weapon clattering across the icy floor.
"What the hell are you doing, Klein?" Vale asked, stepping back, eyes narrowed and locked onto the young man.
There was no answer.
Klein's eyes were… vacant. Hollow.
Without a word, he summoned another weapon—his old blade, the one Vale remembered from their first meeting. He lunged forward again, silent and unblinking, like a puppet pulled by an invisible string.
Vale's frown deepened.
Unwilling to waste more time on a fight that made no sense, he focused inward—and from the shadows behind him, the Dark Knight surged into existence. Its towering, armoured form materialised with a swirl of black smoke, intercepting Klein's strike in one smooth motion. In a single, effortless shove, it pinned the student against the wall, holding him in place like a doll.
