In Bakuran's room, Salomé waited patiently, sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes lost in thought.
The door suddenly opened, revealing Lingyin with a small smirk.
— Hey, Salomé… I have a surprise for you.
She lifted her head, intrigued.
— Oh really?
— Follow me.
Without asking more questions, she got up and followed him down the corridor. They arrived in front of a small room, bathed in soft light. Lingyin stepped aside, revealing what he had hidden behind him.
— Surprise!
Salomé froze. On a mannequin rested an elegant black outfit: a short jacket adorned with midnight blue bands with intricate patterns, matched with a set of dark and refined style.
Her fingers brushed the fabric, and her heart tightened. She knew this outfit. She had seen it before… worn by her double, the one from another timeline.
She murmured to herself:
— So… in that other time… it was you who made it for me?
Lingyin furrowed his brows slightly.
— Huh? Did you say something?
She shook her head, hiding her thoughts.
— No, nothing.
Then she took the outfit with a broad smile.
— It's magnificent!
Lingyin nodded with satisfaction.
— You can try it on. That way, I'll see if I need to make some alterations.
— Okay… but get out first, she replied laughing.
Lingyin left the room, closing the door behind him. Salomé put on the outfit. The fabric slid perfectly over her skin, light but sturdy, as if tailored for her. In front of the mirror, she saw herself transformed: more confident, more imposing… more draconic.
She stepped out, a proud gleam in her eyes.
— I love this outfit! It's like it reveals even more of my draconic character.
Lingyin examined her for a moment, then smiled.
— It fits you perfectly. No need for alterations.
Without thinking, Salomé jumped into his arms, laughing.
— Thank you, Lingyin! I already love it.
— I'm glad you like it, he said simply, but his eyes betrayed a certain pride.
After admiring the outfit, Salomé and Lingyin decided to leave the castle for some fresh air.
The afternoon light filtered through the trees, caressing the new dark jacket she wore.
— I find it incredibly comfortable! Salomé exclaimed, almost jumping.
Lingyin gave an amused smile.
— You're going to make my head swell…
She suddenly stopped, her gaze drifting.
— I wonder… Soon, we will return to our world. You'll come see Mother often, won't you?
Lingyin froze in turn, locking eyes with her.
— Your presence, and Jin Muleo's, would do her so much good… It's not that she's unwell, but… with you, I know she'd truly feel happy.
Lingyin gently placed a hand on her head, his fingers delicately moving a strand aside.
— Don't worry, I understand perfectly.
He closed his eyes, a slight smile on his lips.
— I promise you, we will visit her. Not just once… you can count on me.
Salomé's face lit up, her cheeks tinged with a tender pink. She was about to respond… but the air around them darkened.
A silhouette materialized, made of shifting shadow. The contours were blurred, but the resemblance to Sakolomé was striking.
— What is that thing? she asked, pointing a finger toward the apparition.
Lingyin frowned.
— …Sakolomé?
The shadow took a step forward. Gradually, it took a more defined form: a shirtless Sakolomé, skin marked with a strange pattern on his chest.
— Bring him to me, he ordered in a cold voice.
Lingyin stared at him, bewildered.
— Is that really him?
— No, Salomé replied, jaw clenched. That guy is not my brother.
A strange rustling was heard. Shapes emerged from the surrounding shadows. Two masked figures stood there… but the second was more frightening: seven white, expressionless masks floated in a circle around him like silent satellites.
Salomé stepped back slightly, raising her guard.
— Uncle Lingyin!
— Don't worry, he replied, adopting a defensive posture.
The fake Sakolomé tilted his head, an almost mocking smile on his lips.
— Do you really think you can stop me?
He snapped his fingers.
The mask of one of the creatures turned toward Salomé… and changed. In an instant, her face was reflected identically on that white surface.
Salomé felt a cold shiver run down her spine.
— What… is that?
The masked creature, now sporting Salomé's perfect face, began to levitate.
With a shiver of energy, two immense dragon wings, incandescent violet in color, unfolded from its back.
Salomé's eyes widened.
— But… those are my draconic wings!
A heavy breath of mana burst from scaly feathers, saturating the air.
[Domain of Domination].
Salomé's features hardened. Her own wings erupted in a golden-violet glow, vibrating with power.
— I need to act fast…
She turned toward Lingyin, voice firm.
— Uncle, leave here!
Lingyin wanted to protest, but she cut him off sharply:
— The mana of this domain can crush you in an instant. Your level of existence is not enough to resist it.
A malicious smile stretched the lips of the fake Sakolomé.
— And you think I'll let him go?
He snapped his fingers.
The other masked entity, the one surrounded by seven floating faces, lost one of them.
That mask immediately transformed, taking on Salomé's exact features… down to the slightest blink.
Salomé managed a nervous grimace.
— You really think imitating me will be enough to defeat me?
The double stepped forward, voice cutting.
— What you see before you are mirror beings. They can replicate anyone perfectly.
And no one… no one can defeat their own image.
His words grew more venomous:
— All your strategies, every attack, every feint… will be copied retroactively.
Here, one wears your mask to analyze your flaws and limits.
The other has become you… and will exploit them until you break.
A cold shiver ran up Salomé's spine.
The fake Sakolomé slowly backed away, his body dissolving into dark wisps. The Masked Mirror Being retreated behind him, the six floating faces orbiting like white moons.
— Good luck… he whispered in a voice that seemed to resonate in the air.
And they vanished, leaving the clearing vibrating with unbearable tension.
Salomé quickly stretched out her arm toward Lingyin, materializing around him a translucent shield pulsating with protective energy.
If only I could raise him into a Deviant… she thought, lips barely moving. He would be invaluable at this moment.
She spun abruptly, her eyes fixing on the Deviant figure that resembled her in every detail. In a rapid surge, she propelled herself toward him, conjuring a sword crystallized from mana in her hands.
— Filthy vermin… You're going to disappear!
Their blades clashed in a burning shock, for her double had just summoned an identical sword, but with disturbing violet reflections. The blows followed one another, perfectly synchronized, each of Salomé's movements reproduced with disturbing precision.
SWIIICKK!
The surrounding trees were sliced clean, and even the wind seemed to crack under the violence of the impacts. Salomé intensified her strikes, but each attack found its exact mirror.
— Tsss…
She hovered with a wingbeat, gaining height with a roar of air, wings fully spread. Her pupils contracted.
— Ōculus Vorago!
The sky tore again like a black canvas, bursting under a shower of luminous cracks. Salomé's Ōculus Vorago sparkled in the heights, their reptilian pupils probing every corner of reality. But just a few meters away, her double had opened the same domain. A second sky, identical, superimposed the first, each red and gold eye matching its twin.
Two firmaments of cosmic gazes confronted each other, projecting a crushing existential weight over the entire area. The surrounding trees withered under this pressure. The air vibrated as if reality itself hesitated to exist.
Salomé charged first, mana blade in hand, slicing straight toward her clone's throat. Absolute clairvoyance — the cosmic eye showed her the perfect flaw in the enemy's guard. But at the same time, her reflection saw the exact same flaw… because it was hers.
Their blades clanged in flawless symmetry, a metallic rumble echoing infinitely.
— Tchh…
Salomé followed with a feint to the left, an explosive mana impulse to destabilize the enemy. Her double reproduced the same movement, at the exact millisecond, creating two opposite shockwaves that canceled each other out.
Every attack attempt triggered an immediate counter. The Ōculus Vorago reflected the blows… but this time, since both opponents possessed the same technique, every returned strike was already returned by the other. A perfect loop of cancellations, where no blow managed to fully exist.
Their gazes met—and there, too, no advantage. Both read the other's thoughts, intentions, and emotions… but all those data were their own.
Salomé tried a conceptual approach: Implantation of a flaw. A mental whisper crossed the domain: "What if you were not real?"
At the same moment, her clone sent back the question.
A strange vertigo gripped Salomé. Her bearings blurred for a fraction of a second… but the double staggered too. Like two mirrors facing each other, they projected their doubts into one another, amplifying a cyclical existential malaise.
— This is ridiculous… she grumbled.
She bent her knees, spread her wings, and unleashed a torrent of draconic mana. A rain of blades of light rained down on her adversary. But no sooner had they appeared than these blades were reflected by the double's cosmic eyes… who, seeing Salomé do the same, created some himself. The two rains collided and vanished, leaving a dark void in the sky where light seemed to have been swallowed.
Every strategic maneuver died instantly, reversed, canceled, or absorbed.
Frustration rose. Her breath quickened, her heart pounded wildly. Even her attack thoughts were immediately read and reproduced, to the point that she felt like she was fighting before even deciding to.
She tried a desperate strike: forming a meta-concept of pre-destruction, a blow that would annihilate her opponent before his very conception in the universe. But her double, like an inevitable shadow, did the same. Two impossible strikes collided in absolute silence… then canceled out. Even the laws of causality seemed to retreat before their common absurdity.
Their auras intertwined, wrapping around each other as if hesitating which was the real one. The boundary between Salomé and her reflection dissolved: even their breathing was synchronized.
— You cannot defeat me, she said, voice trembling with rage.
— Neither can you, her double replied, with her voice, breath, and gaze.
An oppressive wave descended from the two cracked skies, crushing the ground. The Ōculus Vorago continued judging them, but no verdict was given.
The battle had ceased to be an exchange of blows. It had become a war of psychological attrition, a duel of souls trapped in symmetrical perfection. And in this absolute balance… the first one to falter, even once, would cease to exist before even being imagined.