Nihlorgue dissolved into a murmur of shadow, leaving behind an echo that merged into the silence.
Sylongue, a little short of breath, placed her hand on Bakuzan's. Her palm trembled slightly.
— Black Grief… she murmured, in a voice both pleading and resolute. There is a strong chance that his behavior may seem... different. unstable, even. If you decide to talk to him, promise me one thing: do not harm him.
Bakuzan remained impassive. His eyes, like two abyssal depths without reflections, fixed on her. He did not answer at once — the silence was more eloquent than words.
— If you accept… Sylongue continued in a lower tone, we leave now.
Bakuzan nodded slowly.
— I suppose I have no other option.
A brief smile split the silver dragoness's lips, and immediately, reality distorted.
Their environment collapsed in on itself before being reborn elsewhere — in a roar of matter and light.
They appeared in the lower states, at the heart of the Delzluhud, on an isolated planet where the sky burned a constant red. The air vibrated with ancient tension, saturated with whispers.
Before them, a cave gaped in the black rock, exhaling a deep breath, almost alive.
Sylongue, nervous, pointed toward the dark entrance.
— She must be there… Nyxlongue.
Bakuzan took a step toward the cave.
But at that moment, a bestial scream erupted from the darkness. It was not a cry — it was a roar of pure existence, a mana wave so dense it made the ground tremble.
The resulting wind cut across the land, lifting stones and twisting trees.
Bakuzan extended his hand in front of Sylongue to shield her.
Around him, the pressure of the scream cracked space like glass.
— She sensed our presence… she murmured, face pale.
The tension rose a notch.
It was as if the cave itself remembered its anger.
Then, she appeared.
Nyxlongue.
Her violet hair billowed in a stream of invisible energy, her golden eyes gleamed with a tawny light. A simple outfit — a white T-shirt, black boxers — contrasted violently with the immense aura that surrounded her.
Every step she took made the dust vibrate, as if the earth recognized her sovereignty.
Her gaze first landed on Bakuzan, then on Sylongue, and fury turned into storm.
— What brings "Ebon Woe" to me? she growled in a voice that echoed the mountain. Oh… yes. I see.
Her tone hardened.
— So it is this traitor Sylongue who leads the Black Grief to me!
Sylongue stepped back a pace, lowering her eyes.
— That's not what you think, Nyxlongue… I—
— Silence! spat the violet dragon, her pupils contracting into glowing slits.
Bakuzan watched in silence, analyzing.
He felt that their old bond — that legendary camaraderie between the two dragonesses — had long since broken, replaced by something much darker.
— I can see the atmosphere is tense between you, he said calmly, almost ironically.
Sylongue nodded faintly.
— It's because…
She did not have time to finish.
Nyxlongue roared and lunged at them, her dragonic mana fist saturated.
An explosion ripped the plain, pulverizing rock, shaking the sky. The impact released a titanic shockwave that unsettled the very air.
When the dust settled, Bakuzan was already farther away.
He held Sylongue in his arms, shielding her with a dense energy field that hovered around them.
— I hope you're not hurt, he said in a calm, almost detached tone.
Sylongue shook her head, a sad smile brushing her lips like a wound healing too quickly. She placed a hand on her abdomen, as if calming the beating of two worlds at once.
— Don't worry… she whispered. Since I bound myself to Oyuo, the deviant elf, Nyx has never accepted. Our choice broke something between us — a shared dream, a road we had planned together. I understand her anger. Perhaps I shouldn't have...
Bakuzan frowned, the shadow of a cold reproach in his voice.
— Don't talk nonsense.
Sylongue looked up, surprised by his severity.
— Unlike the gods, he muttered, though rare and often taboo, great mythical beings can become attached — fall in love. You don't always choose what arises in the heart. If you chose Oyuo, Nyxlongue should have been proud, even if it broke something in her. Perhaps your dreams were so closely linked that a deviation created this tidal wave.
A hiss of anger sprang from the ground. Nyxlongue, still covered in dust and raw energy, replied like a lightning bolt.
— What do you meddle for, Ebon Woe?! she roared, each word spitting sparks. What do you want here? Say it!
Bakuzan answered without aggression, but without detour.
— You sought Lilith for your ascent. I want to know how you found her. That's all. Nothing more.
Nyxlongue closed her eyes, briefly exposing the weariness hidden under her rage. Then she reopened them, a vein throbbing at her temple, and her voice became a challenge.
— Very well. I will tell you — if you beat me. In a duel. One on one. If you know how to defeat me and make me acknowledge your victory, I will reveal everything to you. If you fail… you get out of here and you are no longer welcome.
Sylongue bit her lip, ready to plead, to beg. She stepped forward.
Bakuzan placed his hand over her mouth, gentle but firm.
— Shh, he said. I will not hurt her. Rest assured.
He let her step back, stand awkwardly, with a rounded belly like a fragile promise. The adrenaline in his eyes betrayed that she was living this fight vicariously, as if every strike against Nyxlongue could also hurt her.
Bakuzan stepped forward. Each of his steps was measured, a silent cadence that left nothing to chance. Around them, the rock still vibrated from the previous tremors; the air had that metallic after-storm taste. Nyxlongue gathered her mana, a violet halo that made the dust dance in furious whorls.
Bakuzan stopped at a range where he could engage, standing straight like a column of polished shadow. His gaze, cold and relentless, met the violet dragoness's.
— Very well, he said in a low, flat voice. If that's what you want, I'm waiting.
The silence thickened, dense as the tension before lightning. The two beings — one bearing a mourner's name, the other bearing the violet night — faced each other, each harboring a world to defend in their chests.
Nyxlongue took a step forward, her eyes glittering with a tawny gleam.
— It's go time!
Her voice snapped like a blast. In an instant, she sprang, her foot fracturing the ground with a rumble that shook the very bowels of the plain.
The air tore as she rose — a scream of pure energy.
Bakuzan remained still.
His shadow twisted slightly around him, like a veil of obsidian animated by a silent breath. He did not move, waiting, reading every movement, every mana pulsation.
He had a plan.
He could have defeated her in an instant with a simple gesture, but that was not what he wanted. He wanted her to empty herself of all her fury, to unleash everything she had.
To see, for herself, the difference in dimension between them.
Nyxlongue vanished — then reappeared right in front of him, her fist charged with dragonic force that fissured space.
Bakuzan tilted his head, dodged effortlessly.
A gust of air swept between them, powerful enough to shear a hundred-meter tree.
She followed up.
The blows came in rapid succession, lightning fast, almost feline in precision. Fists, knees, claws, fangs — each impact created a shockwave, each of Bakuzan's dodges drawing a shadow arc around him.
— You're not getting away with this! Nyxlongue yelled, frustrated at not touching him.
She leaped back with a beat of her wings and raised her arms to the sky.
Her draconic wings burst forth in an explosion of violet energy — two immense, translucent arches, whose interior seemed to contain an entire cosmos: nebulae, dying stars, galaxies spiraling in a void of ink.
They unfolded slowly, majestically, before she struck them with a sharp blow.
The effect was apocalyptic.
A colossal hurricane formed, wringing the air, devastating the plain.
The earth rose, stones torn from the ground like leaves, distant mountains trembled.
Sylongue, panting, placed her hands on her abdomen and erected a luminous barrier.
A sphere of argent energy closed around her, trembling, as the dragonic wave crashed upon her like an ocean in a fury.
Her hair whipped through the air, her gaze fixed: she knew that if the barrier gave, Nyxlongue's breath would pulverize her.
The wind finally ceased, leaving behind a red and devastated silence.
The ground was nothing but a huge crater, crisscrossed with incandescent fissures.
The air still vibrated with a cosmic rage echo.
Nyxlongue contemplated her work, panting, a carnivorous smile on her lips.
But Bakuzan was still there.
Standing.
Unharmed.
His cloak of dark energy rippled softly around him, barely scarred by the storm.
His eyes, golden and impassive, settled on her.
— Don't tell me that's all you can do.
The dragoness snickered, a laugh charged with tension and pride.
— What do you think? That was only a warm-up.
At that moment, a sinister crack cut through the air — an invisible fracture, as if the sky bent under an unknown force.
Space itself seemed to twist, to close in on a precise point between them.
Bakuzan felt the pressure shift.
Nyxlongue's mana became chaotic, concentrated, almost gravitational.
She slowly raised her hand, and her left eye lit with a purple glare.
Runic lines began to pulse along her arm, etched like living scars.
— Oculus Vorago.
The world around her cracked.
A vortex of dragonic energy, spiral of light and shadow, was born in her iris.
The air was sucked in, gravity warped, rocks tore apart.
Even the Delzluhud seemed to tremble — as if this power momentarily pierced the very structure of reality.
Sylongue, terrified, cried:
— Nyx! No! Not that! You cannot use that form here, you will collapse everything!
But Nyxlongue no longer listened.
Her voice became a roaring incantation, and her gaze became an abyss.
A black and violet eye, like a cosmic hole, opened behind her — immense, breathing like the heart of an abyss.
Bakuzan, for his part, remained calm.
His fingers slowly closed, a breath of shadow flowing from his hands like a slow tide.
His aura condensed, taking the form of a perfect circle — a black moon, silent and absolute.
— Very well, he murmured. I suppose it is time I show you… why they call me the Mourning of Worlds.