The scene opened in the sanctuary of the Dragon-Men, the air thick with palpable tension. Rivhiamë, Salomé, Lingyin, and Jin Muleo sat around a circle engraved with ancient runes, their gazes fixed on the young armored woman whose face still bore the marks of battle.
The priestess took a slow breath, her fingers trembling slightly on the pommel of her sacred sword.
— My name is Inès… priestess of the Church of the Sealed Dawn, a human order linked to this world for centuries. We have sworn to maintain the balance between celestial and infernal forces, even if our existence must remain hidden.
She lifted her head, her pale eyes reflecting deep concern.
— We detected this creature months ago. With each invocation of the Seal Ritual, our visions grew disturbed… fractures in the fabric of reality, howling shadows. Then we saw its face, or rather the abyss that serves as its face: a chained entity, with fifty voices, calling to be freed.
Lingyin leaned forward, his gaze sharp:
— So you knew the attack was imminent? Why didn't you say anything?
Inès clenched her fists, her voice almost breaking:
— Because we thought we could contain it! We had placed seals all around the Quarlhon Mountains… but the pressure was too great. And what you saw today was only an avatar, a fragment of its true body.
Jin Muleo frowned, worry deepening his features:
— If that was only an avatar… what will happen if the real creature breaks its chains?
A shiver ran through the priestess.
— Then this world will know no more light. Its mere presence will devour the very foundations of existence…
Silence fell on the circle, broken only by the cracking of crystals. Salomé fixed Inès with a hard gaze:
— Why does your church care so much about the Egg of Evorsence?
Inès lowered her eyes:
— Because it is the only key capable of awakening the one we call the Guardian of the Dawn, the only known force that can repel the creature. But every moment counts: its chains are already breaking…
Salomé leaned in, her voice tight:
— The Egg… does it really contain the Guardian of the Dawn?
Rivhiamë cut in abruptly, her gaze piercing Inès:
— Wait. Inès, you said it's a creature with fifty heads? Do you have more details?
The priestess slowly shook her head, a shadow crossing her face:
— We know little. It has fifty heads, and each is hard to discern, as if the gaze slips over them. But the chronicles say that anyone who meets those faces sees in an instant all time: past, present, and countless futures, all their possible deaths. And they feel them… all… simultaneously. The madness and pain are enough to kill, then the creature devours the soul itself.
A heavy silence fell. Rivhiamë clenched her fist against her palm, her pupils contracting.
— I think I know who it is.
All eyes turned to her.
— Raktabīja Rāvana, she whispered.
— What?! echoed Salomé, Lingyin, and Jin Muleo in unison.
Rivhiamë continued, more serious:
— He is the only demon emperor even Hell still recognizes. His size defies imagination: too vast to be contained in a universe. He does not move, he devours. Wherever he exists, all else ceases.
Inès turned pale:
— A creature… bigger than a universe?
Rivhiamë slowly nodded:
— But size is not the real problem. Raktabīja Rāvana is searching for something, and if his chains should break… it would be apocalypse. He has neither allies nor enemies: he annihilates all, without hatred or mercy. Not even the oldest demons or gods dare approach his prison; many have tried to erase him, none survived.
She paused, a hand under her chin, haunted gaze:
— I don't know why his hatred is so absolute, but even Hell fears him.
Inès stared at Rivhiamë, her voice shaking:
— How do you know so much?
Rivhiamë gave a joyless smile:
— Because I am myself a demon of Hell. Not one who bows before him… but I know the fear he inspires.
Inès pressed her lips together, uncertainty in her eyes. Salomé broke the silence:
— So, if we face an apocalyptic entity threatening not only the world of myths but all existence… do we even have a chance?
Rivhiamë shook her head:
— None. Against Raktabīja Rāvana, the very notion of fighting is pointless. Only the most absolute gods and demons could perhaps contain him. For us… even at our level, we are mere appetizers.
Lingyin sighed deeply, his face strained.
— Rivhiamë, do you think there is any chance he… he escapes from Hell? I'd like to know if I should start praying for our existence now.
Rivhiamë gave an ironic smile.
— No need to panic yet. Raktabīja Rāvana is locked in a domain deeper and older than Tartarus. Normally, anything that falls there is erased over time; even its memory is swallowed and forced to oblivion. But somehow, Raktabīja Rāvana persists. And the worst? He continues to interact with other worlds… He can send avatars to reduce them to ashes. What he is, is a meta-conceptual abomination, a plague that refuses to disappear.
Silence descended over the group. Each felt the weight of those words, as if the shadow of this creature already hovered over them.
Rivhiamë resumed in a grave voice:
— But there is hope. We can neutralize his avatars. And if we manage to annihilate what drives him to manifest here, we can calm him for thousands more years. It's a race against time: the stronger his desire, the more powerful his avatars become. We cannot afford failure.
Salomé frowned.
— The avatar that attacked Kai and Inès didn't seem insurmountable. Its existence probably dips deeply into the causality of Silence, but it lacked the strength to annihilate an entire world… unless another avatar, more powerful, already prowls this world.
Rivhiamë slowly nodded.
— Highly likely.
Salomé exhaled, heavy with resignation.
— Phew… I need to prepare for this confrontation.
Her gaze turned toward Kai. He was sitting apart, a blanket draped over his shoulders, his face pale and eyes still dilated with fear. He trembled faintly, prisoner to his own visions.
— I wonder… murmured Salomé, her voice tinged with worry, …what someone like Kai could have seen to be in this state.
Kai sat apart, shoulders stiff beneath the blanket, his gaze lost in the void. But it was not the void he saw.
Behind his closed eyes, the image returned, again and again: a space with neither up nor down, saturated with black mist in which light warped. And there, the Thing.
A body so vast that its outline defied measurement, laid out in geometry obeying no logic. Colossal chains, forged from materials even gods would have forgotten, sank into its flesh without ever fully restraining it.
Then came the heads. Fifty distinct faces, all staring at Kai. Each head had its own monstrosity:
— deformed eyes pulsating like dying stars,
— mouths dotted with teeth closing in infinite spirals,
— foreheads opening extra sockets, oozing incandescent liquid.
And all spoke simultaneously, thousands of voices articulating the same command in languages never uttered by mortals:
— "Bring him to me!"
These voices pierced the soul, winding around his thoughts, imposing upon Kai an atrocious certainty: he had been seen.
Terror overwhelmed him again, brutal and cold, and a cold sweat dripped down his temple. He had felt — no, was certain — that these fifty gazes had stripped him of everything: name, will, identity. Before this entity, he was nothing, just prey, a particle that could be crushed at any moment.
— Kai?
Salomé's soft but worried voice pierced the veil of his memory. Kai blinked: the sanctuary room, the light, the familiar faces took shape again.
Salomé approached, her brows furrowed:
— Are you okay?
Kai looked away. A bitter smirk flashed briefly across his face, then he said in a strangled voice:
— Actually… in this world… I am nothing.
Salomé stood speechless, surprised by this confession.
— Why do you say that? What did you see?
Kai shivered. He wanted to speak, but the words seemed insufficient. Finally, he whispered:
— I saw… something… a horror that should not even exist. It stared at me… fifty faces… and I understood. Here, I am but an insignificant shadow. If an entity like that decided to erase me, I would disappear, and even my memory would dissolve.
His voice trembled, as did his hands. He placed a clenched fist on his knees, unable to face Salomé's gaze:
— I thought I was going to… cease to be, even without dying.
Silence hung in the air, broken only by Kai's uneven breath, prisoner to a terror no words could dispel.
Salomé knelt before Kai, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. Her golden gaze, filled with a strange warmth, tried to pierce the shell of terror surrounding him.
— Kai… I know you think no one can understand what you've seen.
Kai shook his head violently, his eyes wide with anguish:
— You can't understand! That thing… it's beyond everything! Even the mere thought of its existence destroys the notion of being. Do you think you can grasp that? You don't know what it's like… to be looked at like you are nothing!
Salomé squeezed his shoulder a little tighter, without looking away:
— I don't know exactly what you saw… but I know one thing: nothing is ever set in stone. Even demons evolve. This creature has become so powerful that it's terrifying? Then we can change too. If you stay frozen there, saying all is lost, you already give it victory.
She released his shoulder and stood, her voice calm but firm again:
— Instead of staying idle, let's try. Every step counts, even against such a monster.
Kai remained silent. His fingers still trembled, his breath short. Then the image of the creature returned, brutal: the fifty faces, the chains, the voice shouting "Bring him to me!". His heart skipped a beat, and a cold sweat beaded at the nape of his neck.
— Kai, Salomé whispered, don't you feel like becoming a Deviant anymore? Do you want to give up already?
The young man slowly raised his head, his face ravaged by fatigue and fear.
— What's the point…? I might never become one. I've tried everything, but nothing… Ysolongue, she… she doesn't care about me, I feel.
Salomé was silent for a moment, as if weighing every word.
— I haven't been a Deviant for long, she admitted finally. I don't yet know how to turn a mortal into a Deviant… But if I manage, I'll help you evolve.
Kai looked up at her, surprised.
— …On one condition.
— Which?
Salomé held his gaze:
— You need to prove to me that your will can be centered on yourself, not on fear or anger. Agreed?
Kai froze for a moment, then an bitter smirk crossed his face.
— I'm tired of keeping promises that only benefit others… But considering how desperate I am… I accept.
He looked away, clenching his fists, the fear still lurking in his mind, but a new spark was lighting up: what if Salomé was right?