Silence fell again within the dome, only broken by bursts of energy gradually dissipating. Salomé, panting, retracted her Ōculus Vorago: the violet sea faded, her draconic wings vanished with a breath, and her Domain of Domination collapsed, restoring reality to its ordinary state. Zelongue's avatars, deprived of their source, disintegrated into dust as if they had never existed.
Zelongue stepped forward and, with a wave of his hand, dispelled the training dome. The heavy, warm outside air mingled with the regained calm. He stood still for a moment, observing Salomé, then slowly applauded, a genuine smile stretching across his lips.
— Congratulations, Salomé.
You have just created a new draconic skill... have you given it a name?
Salomé, still in shock, raised her eyes toward him.
— A... name?
Zelongue crossed his arms, his golden gaze piercing.
— Yes. What you just did is not simply an enhanced version of Ōculus Vorago. It is... something else.
He paused, searching for words.
— Originally, my Ōculus Vorago exercise ontological judgment: they probe, reveal, and exploit the conceptual flaws in all things. But yours, fused with your Domain of Domination and your violet draconic mana, have crossed a higher threshold. They did not judge... they predominated.
Zelongue gestured to the void where the avatars had disappeared.
— Even my copies, each bearing my full power, were reduced to mere mortals. Their Ōculus Vorago were rewritten, dominated as if they were illusions. This is not merely a prior power that suppresses what is posterior to it: your skill conditions the very notion of precedence itself.
Salomé frowned, intrigued.
— Condition... precedence?
— Exactly. The Ōculus Vorago dominate because they place themselves before what they judge, erasing structures and protections by their more fundamental nature. But your new technique goes further: it redefines what has the right to be "before." By fusing your Domain of Domination, you impose a conditional predominance: even what was supposed to precede is subjected to you, because you reshape the rules that decide precedence.
He paused, his smile slightly widening.
— That is why none of my avatars could resist you. You were not only older than them: you redefined the hierarchy of precedence, making them "posterior" compared to your will. Even their own definition of themselves was rewritten.
Salomé remained silent, digesting his words.
— So... no matter what they were before, they always become "after" me?
— Exactly. It is absolute predominance. Where the Ōculus Vorago's judgment seeks truth, your new skill imposes a truth where you are the primary condition. Everything in their field of vision must align with your will: what precedes you is reconditioned to follow you, and what follows you ceases to exist as an obstacle.
He stepped forward, his gaze shining with a rare light: a mixture of admiration and caution.
— Choose its name carefully, Salomé. A draconic skill is not just a weapon: it is a declaration of what you are. This one... places you at the top of all ontological hierarchies.
Salomé turned away, still trembling, her fingers clenching.
— I... I need to think.
Zelongue nodded.
— Take your time. But remember this: this power defines you more than you define it.
Salomé gave a slight smile, wiping with the back of her hand the blood still beading at her nostril.
— It's strange... she murmured. It's like I gave birth to a child... and now I have to give it a name.
She lifted her head toward the sky, still marked by the invisible fractures of her power. The clouds seemed to bend under an imperceptible presence, an echo of the predominance she had imposed moments ago. Salomé squinted, her breath stabilizing, and let her consciousness rise, as if to probe what she had just created.
Zelongue, silent, stared at her, almost solemn.
— So? he asked simply.
Salomé inhaled deeply. The remnants of her dense and sovereign violet mana still pulsed within her: a power that no longer judged but dominated all by its mere existence, even rewriting the notion of what could precede it.
— ...Predominance.
The word resonated in the air, heavy and definitive, as if it had always waited to be spoken. Salomé slowly lowered her gaze, a new light in her eyes.
— That is what it will be called: Predominance.
Zelongue smiled discreetly.
— An appropriate name. It exactly marks what it is: a dominance that even precedes the notion of "before."
Salomé clenched her fists slightly, a shiver running through her body.
— Yes... Predominance. It is not just a power. It is a declaration.
Zelongue nodded, his golden gaze shining with an indecipherable gleam.
— And now, Salomé... it is time to see how far you can go with it.
Salomé was seated, still panting after the confrontation. Behind her, Zelongue stood with arms crossed, his red hair dancing in the wind. He watched her in silence before saying:
— So... I would also like to learn to master Predominance. Would you train me? And tell me... what triggered this new fusion?
Salomé slowly raised her eyes to him, then to the night sky. Her golden irises began to shine.
— To be honest... I don't know. I just thought of my brothers... and it happened, just like that.
Zelongue raised an eyebrow, almost offended.
— What? Are you kidding me?
She shook her head, more serious.
— No. Right now, I am alone... Bakuzan, Sakolomé, Bakuran... none of them are here. Bakuran and Sakolomé are still in a coma. As for Bakuzan... he deserted.
I have always counted on my brothers in the past, I do not hide that. Alone, I have never been able to neutralize a truly great threat.
She lowered her head slightly, then a slight smile appeared on her lips.
— But today... given how I am evolving... when they wake up, I look forward to seeing their faces in front of my new powers.
Zelongue tilted his head.
— You love your brothers?
— Love them? Are you joking? I adore them! They are all I have left, along with my mother. One day, an alternate version of myself came to speak to me... it was me, without them. A dark version, who hadn't smiled for years, lost in a cold solitude. I have never forgotten that look.
Zelongue sighed and looked up at the starry sky.
— You humans, you really have attachments... pathetic.
Salomé turned her head, intrigued.
— What do you mean by that?
— Too much affection... it is a weakness.
She shrugged with a small laugh.
— Pfff, nonsense. You just saw that it is precisely thanks to my attachment that I evolved, that I gave birth to a new skill. Solitude is fine... but it is not everything.
Zelongue remained silent, thoughtful, his gaze still fixed on the sky.
— It's still humiliating... A human, even draconized, managing to create a draconic skill before my eyes... a skill none of us, Dragon Heirs, had imagined. And if... if we had put aside our ego? If we had remained united... maybe we could have awakened such a skill too. For us, Ōculus Vorago is the highest expression of our power... but Predominance is...
— Zelongue!
Her voice abruptly snapped him from his thoughts. He lowered his head: Salomé, still bearing the youthful features of her fourteen years, stared at him, her eyes shining in the night.
— Why do you refuse so much the idea of uniting among the Dragon Heirs? Ysolongue still thinks of you all. Unlike you, she has never let her ego prevail. And besides... she is your little sister, isn't she? Shouldn't you at least try to see her?
Zelongue chuckled, an ironic smile on his lips.
— It's not for you to lecture me, kid.
Salomé blushed slightly and clenched her fists.
— See? Your ego rules you completely.
The dragon averted his eyes again toward the celestial vault. After a long silence, he breathed out, almost imperceptibly:
— Although... you may not be wrong.
Zelongue, arms crossed, observed the night sky which had finally calmed after their grueling training. A light wind made his red hair flutter.
— It's time to return, he said in a neutral tone.
Salomé stood up gently, dusting the dust from her clothes. She nodded and replied with a discreet smile:
— You are right... my master.
Zelongue turned his head, surprised, his golden eyes narrowing slightly.
— ...What? he repeated, incredulous.
Salomé held his gaze.
— Yes. My master. Even if you never officially wanted to teach me, you did it despite yourself. Every word, every trial you imposed pushed me beyond my limits. Without you, it may have taken me years to understand what I can do today.
A tense silence settled, the wind whistled between the rocks. Zelongue looked away, his lips tightening into a grimace.
— Tsss... do as you please, he finally said in a low voice. If you really want to consider me your master, that's up to you... and you alone.
He sighed, resuming his distant air.
— Don't expect compliments or any indulgence from me though. You know very well that I have no interest in such... attachments.
Salomé simply smiled, without replying, as if she understood something Zelongue refused to admit. Together, they left the mountain, their silhouettes standing out under the starlight.