The appearance of Orlongue, the Dragon God, frozen in time, held everyone's breath.
Even Zelongue, usually not prone to surprise, remained motionless, disbelief painted on his face.
Behind them, Rivhiamë squinted, gauging the overwhelming force emanating from the Ancient One. Without a word, she retreated into Sakolomé's body.
— What are you doing, Rivhiamë? he asked, puzzled.
— I prefer to avoid confronting this dragon... I'm better off here.
Sakolomé gave a mocking smile.
— Haha... Don't tell me you're afraid?
She said nothing. Silence was enough.
Orlongue, with golden eyes, cast his gaze upon the members of the Church of the Sealed Dawn. His smile was calm, but his words fell like a verdict:
— You counted on the creature from the egg to face the threat looming over this world, didn't you? Well... I will not fight this threat.
The priest, stunned, burst out:
— But... do you know what danger we are running?
Orlongue replied without raising his voice:
— I am the creator of this world. No matter what you say... it will not change my mind. Show me that you care for this world. Fight for it.
Inès stepped forward and fell to her knees.
— Creator God... don't you see our efforts to meet you? We have done everything, and you answer us like this?
Orlongue watched her for a moment.
— Everything? That is not what I saw.
Without further ceremony, he crossed the castle's threshold.
— Find what would be ideal to find... then, perhaps, I will consider helping you.
— Lord Orlongue... wait, called Sakolomé.
The God stopped, turning toward him with a calm, unfathomable gaze.
— I am a pseudo-Deviant, continued Sakolomé. I have questions. Who are really Zeus, Mü Thanatos... and Ñout? If I want to evolve, I must know.
Orlongue remained silent for a moment, his eyes piercing the young man.
— It is clear that the fate of my world does not seem to worry you, young human...
Sakolomé shook his head.
— That's not it. I will fight for this world because Ysolongue matters to me... like a friend I lost long ago. But my quest does not stop there. I'm looking for my brother, Bakuzan... who is Ebon Woe.
The entire room froze at this revelation.
— Yes, he continued. The Black Grief... is Bakuzan. According to Saiko — an entity who spoke to me in my unconsciousness — he is the son of Mü Thanatos. And he told me, word for word, that my brother has become the flux of the Narration. I want answers. I want to find creatures who can enlighten me.
A thin smile stretched Orlongue's lips.
— You ask for a lot. Zeus... is the king of gods, master of all deities, myself included. I was created by him. Ñout is a primordial goddess... as are twenty-nine others, alongside Zeus. And Mü Thanatos... is a goddess who often escapes even the comprehension of the most powerful gods.
His gaze lost itself in the sky.
— Your brother... the Black Grief. If he has become the flux of the Narration, then he watches you at this very moment. He knows what you, I... and all the others are doing right now.
His tone grew graver.
— You say you are a pseudo-Deviant? You are still far from the truth. Move forward... keep moving forward. One day, you will know all you want to know... but only if you survive that long.
Orlongue let out a long sigh, his golden eyes settling again on Sakolomé.
— You say you met Saiko... the son of Mü Thanatos. Then why not ask him everything? About his mother?
Sakolomé lowered his head, his voice softer.
— He... he just told me she is all things, absolute reality itself. He was vague, almost... elusive. But why does such a creature sometimes manifest? I do not understand... I have too many questions in my head.
Orlongue watched him silently, then stepped forward slowly, his footsteps heavy like an ancient echo. Reaching just before him, he leaned in so close Sakolomé could almost feel his breath. His voice became a grave whisper:
— Little one... you know you are attracting a very, very serious problem?
Sakolomé's eyes widened.
— How so? Why?
A sharp snap sounded.
In an instant, the castle, the others, the world... vanished.
Sakolomé stood alone in a vast isolated domain, bathed in golden light, facing Orlongue.
— Merely wanting to know too much about Mü Thanatos, resumed the Dragon God, can cost you your existence. That is why I tell you to evolve, again and again. I can guide you on this path... but for now, do not shout to all entities that you want to unravel Mü Thanatos' mystery.
— But... why? asked Sakolomé, almost pleading. What is wrong with wanting to understand?
Orlongue's tone grew more solemn, almost heavy:
— Mü Thanatos is a goddess of immeasurable power. Even among gods, many think she is just a myth. Some believe the one they see is only an illusion... and that the real one never appears, for she is all. But the reasons for her manifestations are obscure. Only a few Primordials could guess the truth.
He paused, his eyes darkening.
— And many gods hate this manifestation. Do you know why?
Sakolomé, voice trembling:
— Wh... why?
— Because she escapes all understanding. And often, we fear what we cannot comprehend. Even the gods — who embody the very possibility that fear makes sense, and who should be detached from it — feel this fear at the mention of her name. So you... human... who claim to understand what even the gods do not grasp... you will have to be extremely cautious. Otherwise... you will attract the hatred of those who cannot bear you venturing where they themselves are blind.
Sakolomé remained frozen.
Orlongue's words, like invisible claws, clung to his mind and wrapped around his chest.
A chilling shiver ran down his spine.
What am I doing...? he thought, throat dry. I am playing with something beyond everything I know. This is not a simple secret... it is a cliff's edge on which I walk blindfolded.
Bakuzan's face appeared in his mind, blurry, elusive, drowned in a veil of shifting darkness.
Then Saiko's, his cryptic words, and finally... the forbidden name, the one that still seemed to echo in the golden air: Mü Thanatos.
With each syllable, it seemed to him that the space around him contracted, as if the light itself held its breath.
Can I really bear to know...?
Part of him wanted to turn back, hide, silence that curiosity.
But another, deeper part refused: the same part that had pushed him to speak despite Orlongue's overwhelming presence.
He felt his heart beat stronger.
Not as a sign of life... but as a warning.
He finally understood what Orlongue meant: seeking truth here was not just a risk. It was a silent call, which forbidden ears might already hear.
If I continue... I might disappear. Not die, no... disappear.
The word echoed inside him like a sentence.
He lifted his eyes to Orlongue but said nothing.
He had realized that, at this very moment, every unnecessary word could seal something he was not ready to face.
Orlongue still stared at him as if measuring whether he would retreat... or take one step closer to the abyss.
The conversation with Orlongue was coming to an end. The Dragon God had entrusted him with veiled truths and knowledge he should never have heard.
In the blink of an eye, the golden light vanished. They were back in reality.
Night had fully engulfed the castle.
Sakolomé sat at the edge of a water pool, his gaze lost in the pale silver of the moon. His reflection trembled in the gentle ripples on the surface.
In the distance, perched atop a mountain peak, Orlongue also watched the night star, motionless like an eternal statue.
Below, Zelongue and Ysolongue spoke quietly. The day's events had left a mark on their minds, and they knew the next day would not be peaceful.
In the castle's east wing, Jin Muleo stood alone in a room, staring at Bakuran, still inert in his long slumber.
In the courtyard, a light silhouette approached. Salomé, her golden eyes lit by the nocturnal glow, came to stand near her brother.
— Big brother...
Sakolomé looked up at her.
— Salomé... What do you want?
She sat beside him, legs folded against her.
— Is it true... that the Black Grief is Bakuzan?
A long silence answered first. The lake reflected the full moon, as if it rested within it. Sakolomé sighed.
— Yes. That's right.
Salomé turned her head to the sky, fixing the full moon.
— I wonder what he really wants to do... All this unsettles me.
Sakolomé stared at her.
— Do you want to give up already?
She shook her head.
— No. No matter what he becomes, I can't leave things as they are. I'm just... surprised. Learning that the Black Grief is Bakuzan... leaves me speechless. And I still don't know what his true goals are.
Sakolomé remained silent for a moment, then asked:
— Now that I think about it... you've become a Deviant, haven't you?
A slight blush rose on Salomé's cheeks, and she smiled, closing her eyes.
— Oh yes... I've learned some draconic techniques from Zelongue.
Sakolomé's eyes widened.
— What? Zelongue taught you things?
— Yes. I can't wait to show you, big brother. Who knows... maybe I'm already stronger than you.
Sakolomé smiled and gently ran a hand through his sister's hair.
— That's good. It reassures me... So if I fail to bring Bakuzan back, maybe you'll succeed.
Salomé let out a small laugh.
— We'll join forces if he's too difficult to defeat. You, me, and Bakuran... we will succeed.
Sakolomé withdrew his hand and looked at her intently.
— Salomé... Do you know what Orlongue told me?
— What?
Sakolomé kept staring at the sky, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes. An enigmatic smile formed on his lips.
— Orlongue told me... that normally, Deviants die because they don't take their own path.
Salomé blinked, intrigued.
— What does that mean?
— In general, explained Sakolomé, when a creature becomes Deviant, it has no personal path. Often, it ends up imitating that of gods... or demons... or dragons.
The word made Salomé flinch.
— Dragons?
Sakolomé turned his head to her, amused.
— Haha... Looks like you wanted to imitate that of dragons.
A small comic shadow passed over Salomé's face.
— Go on, big brother!
Sakolomé resumed, more serious:
— Deviants who follow the path of gods, demons, or dragons... condemn themselves. Not because they are incapable, but because, by nature and essence, that is not their way. When they face one of these races, even if the opponent is weaker in appearance, a simple natural superiority suffices to crush them.
Salomé slightly frowned.
— And... those who have their own path? And anyway... what exactly is a "path"?
— A path is what belongs entirely to you. Your road, your progression, your transformation. You can be inspired by gods, demons, or dragons, but never copy them.
Salomé remained puzzled.
— I still don't fully understand...
Sakolomé leaned slightly toward her.
— Imagine a river flowing. You, at first, are an egg: that represents your mortal self. One day, you hatch and become a fish: that's the moment you become Deviant, swimming in the river. Now... what is the path? It's what you choose to become afterwards.
He looked her in the eyes.
— If you remain an ordinary fish, you will be eaten by bigger ones. But if you decide to evolve, you can become a bigger fish, a poisonous fish... or even a creature capable of leaving the river to live on land.
Salomé's eyes opened wide, lit by understanding.
— Wow... So that's the path?!
Sakolomé nodded slowly.
— Yes. And if you want to survive and become strong, you must embody your own path. Your voice, your way, your evolution. Because if you walk on others' paths... you will always be at the mercy of the more powerful.
Salomé raised an eyebrow, a slight smile on her lips.
— Sounds like... some kind of evolution, right?
Sakolomé shook his head gently.
— Yes... but not exactly. You can evolve as a fish, become bigger, faster... but that doesn't mean you can defeat the bigger ones. However, if your path is to become a poisonous fish, even the most powerful will not dare approach you.
Salomé nodded, her eyes sparkling with interest.
— I think I understand what you mean, big brother.
She leaned toward him a little, with a more confident look.
— And you... have you already chosen your path?
A thin smile stretched Sakolomé's lips.
— I already have an idea, yes...
— And... what is it? she asked, curious.
He remained silent. His eyes lost in the silver reflection of the lake, while his mind sank into Orlongue's memories and revelations.
Mü Thanatos...
Orlongue had told him she was the sum of all possible conceptualization and definition. That she was the dream of the Father God himself... and that she embodied the fundamental pillars of this dream. An entity whose power was absolute, primordial.
If she wished, she could erase or rewrite the essence of any creature. Transform a demon into a god. Elevate a sewer rat to the supreme king of an empire. Redefine the order of the dream, overturn all hierarchies...
Yet, she did not seem driven by a thirst for domination. And, according to Orlongue, she strangely obeyed Zeus — the only one with the voice of the Father God Odin, capable of giving her orders she accepted.
But... what if one day she decided to no longer listen?
The thought tightened Sakolomé's heart. Perhaps the world was facing a danger far greater than anything he could imagine. Or perhaps... he was mistaken. No one could be certain.
He shook his head to shake off these thoughts and returned his gaze to Salomé, who still looked at him, waiting for his answer.
— I would like to... well... it's still blurry, he said hesitantly.
Salomé squinted, uncertain. Did he not want to tell her? Or was his path simply too difficult to express?
The truth was that Sakolomé had already made his choice.
His path, he called it "Abyss of Exuviation."
A unique way... a chasm in the very dream itself. He wanted to become the incarnation of an irreparable crack in reality, a gaping hole in conceptualization, where no definition could apply. To be the wound that even Mü Thanatos could not cover, if one day she tried to subdue him.
A place where all laws, all meanings, all truths... would turn away.
An eternal rift.