While Salomé persevered in the timeless space, her breaths slicing through the void, Ysolongue, with Shushu comfortably settled on her head, left the training field and walked toward a clearing. There, Sakolomé and Kai were still talking, seated on a massive rock, their expressions serious.
— Hi, boys, she said in a clear tone, interrupting their exchange.
Both turned their heads. Sakolomé immediately showed a wide smile, as if relieved to see her.
— Ah, Ysolongue! How are you?
Kai replied with studied nonchalance, his arms crossed.
— What's new?
She stopped in front of them, her yellow eyes sparkling with an amused glint.
— Aren't you training? You heard like I did: a threat looms over us… And Father Orlongue was very clear: he will not intervene.
Sakolomé straightened slightly, almost embarrassed.
— I was about to start. I was just finishing... a discussion with Kai.
Then, as if struck by a memory, he frowned.
— By the way… Where is Salomé?
Ysolongue glanced behind her before answering calmly:
— She's doing like Lingyin and Jin Muleo. She trains relentlessly.
A brief silence. She looked back at Sakolomé, her expression becoming more serious.
— And Bakuran? Your brother still hasn't woken up… Do you think he'll make it?
Sakolomé slightly turned away, his features hardening.
— As long as he breathes… there is hope.
He stood up, dusting off the dirt smudging his clothes, then resumed:
— I dare to imagine that the members of the Church of the Sealed Dawn have been sent away?
Ysolongue nodded, her long pink hair waving with the movement.
— Yes. With Zelongue, we swore to save this world.
Sakolomé gave a discreet smile and closed his eyes for a moment.
— I see. In that case… it's time for me to train as well.
— It was about time, murmured Ysolongue, a slight smile on her lips.
Without adding a word, Sakolomé turned on his heels. He took a few steps toward the forest, raised a hand as a farewell without looking back.
— I won't be long.
Then he disappeared among the shadows of the trees.
Ysolongue stayed still for a moment, her scarlet eyes fixed on Kai. Shushu, still perched on her head, blinked, intrigued by the shift in atmosphere.
She finally broke the silence.
— So… what are you planning to do, Kai?
He stared at her, impassive, then crossed his arms with icy determination.
— You… you are a mythic creature. One of the oldest. I would like you to teach me a few things.
A slight surprise passed through Ysolongue's eyes. Then she regained her composure and showed an enigmatic smile.
— Well… I'm not going to say no.
Sakolomé arrived at the edge of a peaceful lake, whose surface shimmered under a sky darkened by moving clouds. He took a deep breath, letting the freshness of the air fill his lungs, then murmured to himself:
— Now… my training begins.
He stretched slowly, his muscles cracking under the accumulated tension, before slightly raising his head.
— I hope you're ready, Rivhiamë.
A soft but powerful voice echoed in his mind, with an echo that gave him goosebumps.
— Of course. But before starting… you must know something.
Sakolomé raised an eyebrow.
— What is it?
— You may not yet be a complete Deviant, answered Rivhiamë calmly, but even as a pseudo-Deviant, you must not train in reality. If you do, you could cause a disaster… especially with the training I have prepared for you.
He widened his eyes slightly, surprised but curiously excited.
— Wait… you prepared training for me?
— Obviously, she breathed with a hint of amusement. It will be both physical and spiritual. What you will learn might allow you to face formidable adversaries… entities you can't even imagine today.
Sakolomé felt a surge of adrenaline run through his body. He clenched his fists, his eyes shining with determined light.
— Perfect. When do we start? And… where?
He did not have time to hear the answer. The ground beneath his feet gave way, his body was sucked into a dark vortex that gave him the sensation of being ripped from existence itself.
A fraction of a second later, he floated in a space without landmarks, without light… an abyssal void swallowing all notions of up, down, time, and space.
— Where… am I? he whispered, breath short, senses alert.
Rivhiamë's voice sounded again, clearer than ever:
— You are in one of my voids. I already gave one to your father, long ago… I did not expect to have to offer one to you as well.
Sakolomé frowned, intrigued.
— Really? What are these voids for…?
— For whatever we want, she replied with a hint of pride. We can create worlds there… laws… or, as now, use them as training grounds. Here, nothing exists. No witnesses. No risk of destroying what is real.
A smile stretched Sakolomé's lips. He struck his fists together with a sharp noise.
— Perfect. So, when do we start?
A silvery light materialized before him. Slowly, Rivhiamë detached from her body, emerging like a diaphanous silhouette before taking real form. Her feet landed on this nonexistent ground as if she had created it just for herself. Her white hair waved softly, without wind to carry it, and her eyes radiated a light that seemed to belong to another world.
— In this void, she explained, there is neither time nor space. Nothing… except what we decide to make exist there. One could say it is a draft of the primordial void, waiting for a will to shape it.
She took a few steps toward him, her gaze piercing his.
— Sakolomé, what I am going to teach you goes beyond what you know. A technique… that might allow you to stand against the Great Mythic Beings. But first…
She stopped, her aura vibrating like an invisible wave.
— First, I must assess your real level. Your specification capacity in combat.
Sakolomé blinked, confused.
— Speci… what? What does that mean?
Rivhiamë gave a slight smile.
— You will understand very soon.
Rivhiamë crossed her arms and stared at him intensely, her vibrating aura filling the void.
— Tell me, Sakolomé… what are you best at, in combat?
He smiled confidently.
— Easy. My specialty is hand-to-hand combat.
A slight laugh, almost amused, escaped Rivhiamë's lips. She raised an elegant hand to her chin and tilted her head.
— Not bad… But do you really think you can go far with that? Against mythic beings who wield magic… meta-conceptual forces? With your fists alone, you won't do much.
Her words sounded like thunder. Sakolomé remained silent for a few seconds, fragments of memories brutally returning. The fight against F-Kgod… the feeling of powerlessness despite all his brute strength.
He clenched his fists, his gaze dark.
— I can… adapt my fighting techniques. Add touches of magic in my strikes.
Rivhiamë moved closer slightly, her blood-red eyes locking onto his with an almost hypnotic intensity.
— Sakolomé… if you really want to stand against what awaits you, you must go further. Create your own essence. Your own meta-concept. Your own magic, shaped by you alone.
These words made him frown.
— My… own meta-concept? — He raised a finger to his chin, thinking aloud. — I wouldn't say no… but… how to do that?
A mysterious smile stretched Rivhiamë's lips.
— Excellent question. Remember… you said that an entity spoke to you once, in your unconsciousness. Saiko… He revealed many things to you, didn't he?
Sakolomé nodded slowly.
— Yes…
— And that entity… does it still live inside you?
He froze, unable to answer immediately. A heavy silence settled in the void. Rivhiamë, patient, waited before softly saying:
— Sakolomé…
He raised his eyes toward her and nodded.
— Yes… Saiko lives in me. But I don't know how to bring him forth… nor even how to talk to him. He appears whenever he wants.
Rivhiamë smiled, satisfied with this confirmation.
— That explains many things. You remember… the day you burned your energy with the Mana of the Story? When you should have died… It was he who saved you.
Sakolomé's eyes widened slightly.
— You think so?
She tilted her head, her tone growing serious.
— No. I'm sure. No one else but him could have acted that way.
Sakolomé lowered his head, lost in thought.
— It's true that… it would make sense. Yes… It must be him who healed me…
Rivhiamë approached slowly, her steps echoing like whispers in the void. Her presence imposed a blend of power and softness.
— Listen carefully, Sakolomé. If you want to progress… you must talk to him. Only he holds the keys to what you can become. No matter what I can teach you, if Saiko decides it is not your path… he will cancel everything. This being has already proven he possesses knowledge… and power… that even exceeds mine.
Sakolomé lowered his head slightly, his fists trembling barely under the tension. Silence weighed in the infinite void around them. Rivhiamë stopped right before him, her red eyes shining like two shards of stars lost in darkness. A mysterious smile touched her lips.
— Sakolomé… you must meditate.
He slowly raised his head, his eyes still full of doubt.
— Meditate? Rivhiamë… I'm not sure that helps. Saiko… He only manifests when he wants. He has never answered to my will.
She raised an eyebrow slightly, then stepped toward him, her aura expanding like a red tide in the void.
— You're wrong. He lives in you. He cannot ignore you if you call him from the depths of your essence. This body is yours, Sakolomé. He… is the stranger. He has no right to refuse your voice.
These words rumbled in him like a distant thunder. He remained silent, his thoughts clashing. His memories of Saiko… that strange presence, so powerful, so enigmatic. Always there when all seemed lost.
He breathed deeply, then clenched his fists.
— …Fine. I'll try. After all… he is the one who prevented me from becoming a complete Deviant. So he must know how I can function… as a pseudo-Deviant.
A slight smile formed on Rivhiamë's face. She nodded slowly, her long white hair floating around her like strands of light.
— Exactly. And if you succeed… you will never be the same again.