Sakolomé remained motionless, his gaze fixed on the ground. His hands were clenched on his knees, his shoulders slightly slumped. The weight of what he had just discovered was not simply heavy — it was almost overwhelming.
A silence settled.
Then, in a barely audible inner whisper in his mind, Rivhiamë spoke.
— Don't tell me you already want to give up, Sakolomé?
He did not answer, eyes still vacant.
— It's true..., she continued, that only a being wielding meta-concepts can truly affect another. And yes, you are still very far from that. But don't forget one essential thing: I am with you. And you seem to have forgotten that…
She paused, then said gently:
— I too have become a meta-conceptual entity.
Sakolomé slowly lifted his head, blinking.
— Ah… that's right. You were elevated by Velda, too.
— Exactly. But don't rejoice too quickly, she said in a firmer tone. It's not because I'm here that I can lend you my strength.
He frowned.
— You can't transfer your mana to me? Even a little?
Rivhiamë answered without hesitation:
— No. I cannot infuse you with meta-conceptual mana. Not even a spark. Your body, your mind, your being… would immediately collapse under the weight of such energy. You are not yet capable. Just as I cannot manifest in my true form here.
Sakolomé grimaced.
— Your true form? Why can't you fully show yourself here?
— Because what I am now… no longer has a place in this world. If I manifested in my true form, Sakolomé…
She hesitated.
— …space would collapse, the laws of this place would implode, and you would be reduced to a forgotten abstraction in an instant.
Sakolomé exhaled loudly, annoyed. Then, slowly, he straightened up. He stared at the horizon for a moment, then smiled. Tired, but renewed.
— Alright. Then I will train. Again and again. One day, I too will understand… and touch those famous meta-concepts!
A silence fell, then Rivhiamë replied, with a hint of pride in her voice:
— That's the spirit I like to see in you.
She continued, calmer, almost confiding:
— You know, deep down… whether concepts or meta-concepts, it doesn't matter. The ancients call them all "concepts," because they have no other words. The distinction between them is analogical, not transcendental.
— Analogical?
— Yes. They are indeed "concepts," but of such a superior order, so conditionally prior to everything else… that they surpass any conceivable structure below Madhurya. They are called "meta" only to mark this difference in scale and function. Not because they belong to another category, but because they are the root of all categories.
Sakolomé smiled, this time more openly.
— So even their name isn't enough to contain them, huh…
— Exactly. And that's why I believe in you. You will learn to brush against them, one day. Not by forcing, but by understanding… what you must become to welcome them.
Sakolomé closed his eyes. His heart beat strongly, but peacefully. He was no longer the same as a few weeks ago. He might not yet have divine power, but one thing was certain: he already carried within him the promise of a future even the ancients could not ignore.
As Sakolomé's training was drawing to a close, elsewhere in the castle, Ysolongue and Salomé were still deep in their lively conversation.
Salomé, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm:
— I'd love to show you my world, Ysolongue! You'd see, there are cars, candies that explode in your mouth, and even cats that order coffees if you can say it like that!
She gave a mischievous wink.
— Just avoid public toilets at night… you find things no dragon should ever see there.
Ysolongue burst out laughing, her wings folded against her.
— Your world sounds like delicious chaos. I'm curious to see it one day.
Not far away, under a gigantic apple tree, Bakuran was napping. His breathing was calm, steady. Shushu, curled up on his belly, also slept deeply, his tail gently beating the air. A perfect image of peace.
Suddenly, Sakolomé returned. His face relaxed, almost radiant, he approached the small group smiling.
— Well, well… chatting without me?
Salomé turned her head toward him:
— We were talking about our world. I'm trying to open Ysolongue's imagination a bit. You see, I've become an interdimensional ambassador!
Ysolongue, amused, looked at Sakolomé with a gentle gaze:
— You seem more relaxed. I take it your training is over?
Sakolomé nodded, arms crossed behind him.
— Yeah. I survived.
But before he could say more, Salomé jumped up, fists clenched.
— I trained too while you were gone, big brother! Come on, fight me! I'm ready to smash you!
Sakolomé stepped back laughing.
— Maybe next time… right now, I just want to lie in the grass and not move for a thousand years.
Then a strange silence fell. A presence was felt.
A figure slowly emerged from the path leading to the main avenue. Short black hair, shirtless, his body marked with dark claw-shaped tattoos under his eyes. He walked calmly, saying nothing, a small black bottle in his hand. It was Kai.
Ysolongue straightened up, eyebrows raised.
— Well. Kai has finally returned.
He paid no attention to Salomé or Sakolomé. With a direct step, he approached Ysolongue and held out the bottle.
— Here is the elixir of memory. I obtained it. Now… make me a Deviant.
All eyes froze on him. The bottle seemed to contain a black, thick liquid, almost alive, pulsating softly against the glass walls.
Sakolomé immediately stepped in, his gaze tense.
— I'm sorry, but… Ysolongue will not take that stuff.
Kai didn't even glance at him. He fixed only Ysolongue, his arm still extended.
— We had a deal. I find the elixir, you make me a Deviant. That was our bargain, not hers.
His gaze suddenly darkened.
— And when that's done… I'll go kick that damn Black Grief's ass.
Kai's arm remained outstretched, trembling, the elixir of memory softly vibrating in his hand like a silent threat.
Sakolomé, motionless, fixed Ysolongue with a firm look:
— You won't drink a single drop of that stuff, Ysolongue. I won't let you.
Kai slowly turned his head toward him, eyes shining with growing irritation:
— And you, who exactly are you? What the hell are you doing between me and my goals?
Sakolomé didn't flinch.
— Your goals? Honestly, I don't care. But I won't just stand here and watch you manipulate Ysolongue to satisfy your ambition. She deserves better than that. What you're doing is exploitation.
Kai growled and shoved Sakolomé with a shoulder, stepping sharply toward Ysolongue.
But immediately, Salomé stepped in too, arms spread, resolute face:
— You don't touch that elixir, Ysolongue. It's a trap, you feel it, right?
Kai clenched his teeth. His gaze hardened, a flash of pure fury dancing in it.
— Step aside. I swear I'll repaint your faces if you keep playing heroes!
Sakolomé stepped forward again, calmer than ever:
— Aren't you ashamed, Kai? Using her, a shaky pact, just to become a Deviant… You only think of yourself. It's almost pathetic.
Kai smirked, annoyed, mocking.
— And you then? Who are you? Another dragon playing protector?
— No. I'm a human, like you, Kai Joron.
Kai burst out a dry, mocking laugh.
— What a joke! And what tells me you don't want the same thing, huh? That deep down, you also hope she transforms you? Admit it, you're here for that, like me.
Silence fell for a moment. Sakolomé lowered his head slightly.
— It's true… he began in a calm, almost painful voice.
— It's true I want to become a Deviant. But I never thought of using Ysolongue to get there. I never wanted to extract anything from her by manipulation or pressure.
He raised his head, his calm eyes burning with clear sincerity.
— I'm here to help her. To prevent her from sinking, even if I have to abandon my own dreams.
And with a quick, lightning-fast gesture, he struck Kai's hand. The black bottle flew into the air, tracing a silent parabola…
Then, with a burst of glass and a dark splash, the elixir of memory exploded on the ground.
Kai screamed:
— NOOOOOO!!!
The air seemed to freeze.
A brutal heat rose, almost suffocating. Kai turned toward Sakolomé, furious, and his aura ignited. A red and blazing energy burst from his body like a raging fire. The atmosphere bent under the weight of this anger, making the air unbreathable.
Salomé staggered, pressing a hand to her chest, breath caught by the pressure.
— I… I'm suffocating…
Ysolongue stretched out an arm before her, materializing a mana barrier to protect Salomé from the brutal surge of Kai's energy.
Without a word, Kai grabbed Sakolomé by the neck, lifting him effortlessly, his blazing eyes locked on his opponent's.
— Do you know how long it took me to get this damn vial? How many traps I had to avoid? How many monsters I had to face? You come and ruin everything…
His voice was a blade:
— …and you will pay dearly.
Sakolomé choked, suspended by one hand by Kai. His legs no longer touched the ground. His face was tight, veins on his neck bulging, but he made no sound.
Behind the mana shield, Salomé clenched her fists, powerless.
Salomé (shouting): Big brother!!
Ysolongue calmly placed a hand on her shoulder.
Ysolongue (softly): Stay behind me.
Kai's gaze burned with a contained, almost tragic rage.
Kai (in a dark tone, squeezing even harder):
You have no idea what I went through.
Whole days in swamps where the air burns the throat.
Nights in ruins where the slightest mistake erases you from existence.
All that to become a Deviant. To reach that damn summit.
And you… you throw it all away like it's nothing!
Sakolomé's breath became rough. He fought not to lose consciousness.
Kai (panting with anger):
I waited. A long time.
I stayed close to Ysolongue without ever forcing her.
I kept her company, hoping…
Hoping she would see my efforts.
But no. Nothing.
And then he came.
That damn Black Grief.
His gaze clouded for a moment, as if haunted.
Kai (in a broken tone):
He crushed me effortlessly.
Not just physically…
He broke what I am.
A silence. Even Salomé held her breath.
Kai (voice trembling):
I thought I was strong. But after him…
If I don't beat him… I will never be myself again.
Sakolomé still said nothing. But he had heard everything.
He did not see a monster before him.
He saw a lost man.
Kai (tightening his grip):
And you come and ruin everything!
I held the elixir of memory in my hand.
I was one step away. Just one…
And you broke it!
Suddenly, in a brutal movement, Sakolomé freed himself. He gave a sharp blow with his forearm, pushed Kai back, and fell to the ground, gasping, holding his throat.
He immediately got up. Eyes raised to Kai. Serene.
Sakolomé (calm but sharp):
Never lay your filthy hands on me again, Kai.
Kai stepped back, surprised by the tone. Then his gaze darkened again.
Kai:
You… I'm going to destroy you. You'll see.
Sakolomé did not flinch.
Sakolomé:
You're becoming a mess.
You want to become a Deviant? For what?
For your anger? For your wounded ego?
Kai (growling):
You don't know anything!
Sakolomé:
Oh yes. I know exactly.
Because right now, you've already lost.
Not against me.
Against yourself.
A silence. Ysolongue looked at Sakolomé with new attention.
Sakolomé (serious, composed):
You think being a Deviant will be enough to beat the Black Grief?
But in your state…
Your rage makes you deaf. You will see nothing. You will strike poorly.
You will make too many mistakes.
He stepped forward, looking into Kai's eyes.
Sakolomé:
And he… he doesn't miss.
He will see you, he will break you. And this time, it won't be just your ego.
It will be your end.
Kai clenched his teeth. He found nothing to say. Not because he was defeated.
But because a part of him, deep down, knew Sakolomé was right.