Kai, still shaken by the weight of his memories, slowly lifts his head toward Salomé, whose eyes shine with a strange golden compassion. She seems troubled, as if a part of her guilt has just awakened upon hearing his story.
Kai (deep, weary voice):
— There... now you know everything. When I lost everything — my mother, Mizellla... — I clung to a single goal. To find that thing. That dark entity, or perhaps… the God of our world. I wanted to speak to it. Beg it. Convince it to bring back those I lost. Because I can't do it. Not even Ysolongue can. And you can't either, I'm sure of it.
(He inhales, his gaze hardening.)
— But when I saw this… manifestation, or what I believed to be of Raktabīja Rāvana, I thought maybe… that if I fought it, if I survived that… then maybe I could reach God itself.
(A silence falls. Kai's fists clench, his eyes burning with helplessness.)
— And honestly? I see no way out. Nothing. Even if I wanted to, even if I grew stronger, I think I wouldn't even be able to face it. Just that… is already too much.
Salomé approaches gently and places her hand on his shoulder. Her touch is calm, almost fraternal.
Salomé (softly):
— Kai… I'm sorry for everything you've been through. Truly. But… don't you think it's still a bit too soon to give up?
Kai looks up at her, surprised.
Kai:
— And why do you think that? Tell me.
Salomé (a gentle smile on her lips, her golden eyes vibrant):
— Because you've seen nothing yet, Kai. Neither that creature, truly… nor God. You're only at the beginning of a journey beyond you. Don't let fear decide for you. These quests… they demand more than courage. They require losing everything — and continuing. And believe me, what you saw… might be nothing compared to what awaits you.
Kai (eyes wide, shocked):
— Worse than Raktabīja Rāvana?
(He grabs Salomé's shoulders, panicked.)
— You mean there are things worse than that abomination?! That thing is already a nightmare that shouldn't even exist!
??? (calm voice behind them):
— Calm down, you two.
They both turn sharply.
Lingyin appears, leaning against a tree trunk, a soothing smile on her face.
Lingyin:
— Sorry. I've been here for a while, hidden. I heard your story, Kai… I didn't want to listen, but… it was too powerful.
Kai (calm, almost mocking):
— I felt you. You've never been very discreet, you know.
Lingyin (embarrassed):
— Hah… you know how to make me blush.
Kai (more serious):
— What do you want?
Lingyin (stepping forward, sincere):
— Just… to tell you that Salomé might not be wrong. It's still too soon to give up. Far too soon.
Lingyin, with a gentle but firm gaze, steps a little closer to Kai, hands open as if to disarm his despair.
Lingyin:
— I understand how you feel, Kai. Truly. You think you've reached the end. You think you've hit that wall no one can cross… but that's not true. Not yet.
Kai, still frozen, his gaze lost in a mix of fatigue and revolt, says nothing. It is Salomé who softly resumes:
Salomé:
— You're still standing, Kai. And you're not alone. You can still search, still understand. Maybe that thing you saw isn't the end… but the threshold.
Lingyin, nodding, turns to him with a more sincere smile:
Lingyin:
— You said even Ysolongue could do nothing. That neither could I help you. But did you really let us try? You've carried that alone so long you think it's the only way. But it's not true. We're here. And we don't intend to let you fall.
Kai, in a broken whisper:
— You don't understand… that thing… it… it defies logic. It's not even a being, it's… it's a negation, a rift, a monstrosity that shouldn't even be here.
Salomé, stepping beside him:
— Exactly. Because it transcends everything, you can't face it alone. This kind of fight… it's not just an outward war. It's also against what it breaks inside you. And for that… we must be many. You have to be able to lean on us, at least a little.
Lingyin, placing a hand on Kai's shoulder:
— You want to find Mizellla, don't you? Then let us help you find her. And to find yourself too. If you want to speak to this God, if you want to see that creature again, then let's go together. The three of us. You won't have to face the horror alone anymore.
Kai, struggling within, closes his eyes. He trembles, but his shoulders relax slightly. His voice is low:
Kai:
— I'm afraid… I'm afraid of what I'll lose if I go forward.
Salomé, softly:
— And you will lose even more if you stop there.
A heavy silence settles, but it is a silent full of life. Slowly, Kai opens his eyes. The fear has not vanished — but now it coexists with something else: a spark.
Elsewhere… still in Sakolomé's sleep.
A heavy silence reigns.
Saiko sits on a throne made of a living, fluid black pool, whose ripples swallow the surrounding light. His piercing red gaze floats in the void, lost in deep melancholy. He seems to wait… or dread.
Suddenly, a body slowly emerges from this dark sea. It is Sakolomé, unconscious, his bare torso shimmering with a strange glow. He gasps as he slowly opens his eyes, trembling.
Saiko offers a smile both cold and amused.
— Finally… you took your time.
He rises slowly. His body seems shaped by darkness itself. Sakolomé, still on his knees, looks around, lost.
— What was that…? What happened? he murmurs.
But Saiko doesn't answer. His gaze detaches from him, fixed elsewhere… into the void. He seems… wary. Almost tense. Sakolomé follows his gaze but sees nothing. Just nothingness. Until a light begins to appear.
A blinding, pure, almost painful gleam.
Sakolomé freezes, paralyzed. A strange cold invades him, as if his own body refuses to breathe.
— What is… what is that?!
The light grows, intensifies, and in the heart of this tearing brilliance… a silhouette takes shape. A human form. Feminine.
She emerges from the light, floating gently, her bare feet stepping quietly on the dark surface of the pool. Her skin seems made of light, cracked in places, traversed by reddish veins. Her long hair flows with an invisible wind. And in her eyes… two red pupils, whose whites are black as night.
Then she smiles.
A thin trickle of blood slides from her lips.
Sakolomé, petrified, cannot look away.
She advances slowly toward Saiko, staggering. Each step she takes creates small ripples on the black pool, as if her entire existence disturbs the stability of this place.
— My son… she murmurs with a torn voice. You are alive…
Sakolomé widens his eyes.
— Your… son?
The woman approaches slowly and places her trembling hand on Saiko's cheek, her smile broken by pain.
— I am so happy… so relieved… Come to me. Return, Saiko…
Her tears fall. They are not tears of water. They are blood.
Saiko does not react. His face remains hard. Icy.
— You're not my mother, he says coldly.
A chilling silence.
The woman recoils, stunned, the pain in her eyes becoming abyssal.
— How can you say that to me…? What could I have done…?
He stares at her. No pity in his gaze.
— Disappear.
The word slams like an axe.
The woman immediately begins to vanish, her body turning into a mist of light. Her last moments are filled with a strange mix of horror and sorrow… as if even her disappearance was a silent prayer.
Then she's gone.
Sakolomé, finally freed from his paralysis, catches his breath, still shaken by what he has just experienced.
— So… your name is Saiko, he murmurs.
Saiko glances at him sideways, his expression neutral, almost indifferent.
— Is there a problem with my name?
Sakolomé remains silent for a moment, still troubled by what he just saw. Then he looks away from the black pool and murmurs:
— It's nothing… don't worry.
He hesitates for a moment, then continues, more seriously:
— Can I know… who was that woman?
Saiko sighs deeply. A heavy, almost painful sigh, as if this question had awakened something he would have preferred to keep buried.
— …She is a part of my mother. A portion that a certain Zeus thought he could take from her.
Sakolomé blinks, confused.
— A part of your mother? I thought gods… weren't born.
Saiko turns slightly away, his voice deeper.
— I'm not a god. Not really. I'm a demigod. Born of the union of a black angel… and the goddess Mü Thanatos.
The name resonates in Sakolomé's mind like a violent shock. He repeats, lips trembling:
— Mü Thanatos…?!
Saiko slowly nods.
Sakolomé widens his eyes, incredulous.
— It's not a joke? She is real…? Mü Thanatos?
Then, as if his mind connects the dots:
— So… that ghostly-looking woman… was a version of her?
Saiko crosses his arms, his gaze lost in the void.
— More or less. She was only a failed version. An imperfect emanation she herself allowed to exist… an illusion of love. Mother never truly felt empathy for us, her children.
Sakolomé frowns.
— How so?
Saiko, calmly but with some gravity, replies:
— Because Mother is the Dream. And the Dream… is Reality.
Sakolomé shakes his head, lost:
— What…?
Saiko looks him straight in the eyes. His voice becomes solemn, almost sacred.
— Everything. Absolutely everything that can be thought, imagined, named, conceptualized… everything that has form, role, name, essence or even an intention… is part of the Dream of the God-Father. You, me, this place, the world, the void… all stem from this dream.
He pauses, then adds in a lower voice:
— And Mü Thanatos, my mother… is that dream. She is everything. She is the totality. The incarnation of this totality.
Sakolomé, deeply moved, murmurs:
— So… we all live in the dream of a higher entity?
Saiko slowly nods.
— It's much more complex than that… but yes. Mother contains everything: structures, laws, gods, demons, angels, humans. She feels everything. She is everything.
Sakolomé, on the verge of dizziness, tries to cling to something tangible:
— But… if she feels everything… you mean… if you hurt me, she feels it?
Saiko nods.
— Exactly. If I cut off your arm… she feels your pain, your anger, your despair. But at the same time, she also feels my joy, my satisfaction, my pleasure… She lives everything, in both extremes. At every moment.
Sakolomé steps back slightly, horrified:
— It's… it's impossible…
Saiko shrugs, with calm fatality.
— That's the nature of Mü Thanatos. She is everywhere. She sees everything, knows everything, feels everything… But she does not act. Not out of inability, but because… doing nothing is her role.
He falls silent for a moment, then concludes:
— When she acts… she dominates everything. But that almost never happens.
Sakolomé whispers, still in shock:
— So she has no love for her children…?
Saiko, with a dark gaze:
— To her, loving us… would be loving herself. It's not love, it's a closed loop. A resonance of herself. Even our feelings, she knows them before we live them.
He then looks at the black pool, then at Sakolomé, and ends with icy gravity:
— We are not her children. We are her fragments. Her refractions. And she… she is everything else.