Loyalty

Tales had not experienced this feeling in a very long time.

Gray.

White.

He walked through a gray-and-white world. From the ground to the walls, from gravel and rotten wood to sand and dust, even the air glimmered with a pale white light, as if all the darkness around him had been swept away.

There were no other colors.

The surroundings were very quiet. Faint cries reached his ears, like someone underwater hearing a call from the shore.

It was like...

Like another gray-and-white world.

The young man was somewhat dazed.

No.

His vision wavered unsteadily, occasionally producing faint afterimages.

Dazzled and disoriented, Tales desperately shook his head. He planted his longsword against the gray ground, dispelling the faint dizziness and trying to regain his sense of direction.

He suddenly felt his right arm tighten.

A gloved palm rippled faintly as it closed around Tales's arm.

"Focus," Yordel's voice came from beside him, guiding him forward.

"Shadow Path reflects reality. They sometimes overlap, but never coincide. Walking here is like drifting across the sea—sometimes floating on the surface, sometimes sinking beneath it."

"You must distinguish reality from illusion. You cannot lose yourself here."

Tales stumbled along, dragged forward by the only thing in this world with normal colors—Yordel. He did his best not to look at the gray-and-white surroundings, filled with layers of shifting afterimages.

This was terrible.

He drew several deep breaths, yet even the air entering his lungs felt unreal.

Tales watched in surprise as he walked out of the gray-and-white hall and into a gray-and-white passageway. He watched Yordel carefully skirt around the Calamity Swords, who had likewise turned into gray-and-white figures.

Yet not one of them noticed them.

The young man looked back.

"We're just leaving like this? Aren't you going to help him? Help Sakrael?"