What Sakolomi had become was no longer human.
He was not even an adversary anymore.
He was a sentence — a cosmic verdict fallen upon all living things.
The creature retreated, but with each movement, it felt space closing in on it.
There was no escape left.
The entire world seemed to have contracted around Sakolomi, as if his existence had locked reality itself.
Then came hell.
Explosions erupted without warning.
Geysers of earth and black light rose, each impact tearing the sky apart.
The creature was thrown, shattered, reduced to tatters before even understanding what was striking it.
It spat blood, gasping, bones dislocated, its essence in shreds.
The roles were completely reversed.
The being standing before it was not a rival…
it was the embodiment of fatality.
The creature wiped blood from its split cheek, slowly raising its gaze toward Sakolomi.
He remained motionless, draped in shifting darkness, his two luminous orbs piercing the void.
A moment later — Kaboom! — another explosion cut it down.
The ground collapsed under the impact, throwing it into a sea of dust and flames.
Its attacks were impossible to predict: they transcended neither time, space, nor any measurable concept.
They were simply there.
Like sudden truths descending without cause.
The trembling creature painfully reformed, its body incandescent with blue and black mana.
— I... I did not expect this turn of events!
It tried to stand.
But when it lifted its head, Sakolomi was already before it.
His gaze — two cold suns — fixed it.
And its entire being froze.
It wanted to retreat, but an invisible blow struck, pulverizing its chest.
Then another.
And another.
The strikes fell without visible motion, without perceptible cause.
Sakolomi did not move.
Yet his opponent was struck from all sides, each impact ringing like an execution.
The creature screamed and, in a desperate reflex, completely disintegrated into pure energy, a maelstrom of black and midnight blue mana.
Its body reformed — white hair, pointed ears, enormous tail, marks of burning energy on its skin.
A new form.
A new power.
But it changed nothing.
Even when it summoned two Scythes of the Essence of the End, they collided with the impossible:
the blades extinguished before reaching Sakolomi.
Everything opposing him became… nonexistent.
He was no longer an individual.
He had become a Supreme Principle, an axis around which laws bent.
Every notion, every truth, every identity became subordinate to his own.
A blow of divine brutality fell again, sending the creature crashing to the ground.
Its body trembled, flesh shattered, its essence on the verge of dissolving.
It raised its head, eyes dilated with terror:
— This… this is not Sakolomi…
It finally understood.
What it was seeing was not a being returned to life.
It was something death had refused to accept.
It closed its eyes, exhausted, resigned.
Fear turned into calm certainty.
— Let's finish this…
Silence returned.
The world held its breath.
And the new Sakolomi took a step toward it —
a step that shook the very foundations of reality.
Immediately, a light split the sky, piercing clouds and chaos like a celestial sword.
The creature abruptly raised its eyes.
Before it, suspended in the torn heavens, stood a figure of such intense purity that even shadows fled its radiance.
Its body radiated a white light, almost painful to behold.
Behind it stretched five pairs of wings, vast and incandescent, each beat trembling the layers of the atmosphere.
In its hand, a weapon of another age — neither sword nor scepter — a form of condensed light, shifting, almost sentient.
The creature tried to raise a barrier, summon a seal, an incantation — nothing.
All magics, all resonances, all laws seemed erased.
This presence had cancelled the very possibility of resistance.
A deep voice, resonating through the layers of the real, rose:
— Who are you?!
The figure slowly turned its head, and its voice resonated, not in the air, but in essence:
— I am often called Son of God…
It advanced, the light around it vibrating like a beating heart.
— I am Chōkō, Hikari-no-Mukidō, the second bearer of Primordial Light. I am the order illuminating all things and all darkness. I am an original god, predating even the primordial gods. I have not come to destroy... but to purify.
Silence fell.
Even the wind seemed suspended.
The creature frowned.
— Purify?
Chōkō did not answer.
His gaze rested on the ravaged world, and light spread.
The cracked continents healed.
Forests came back to life, rivers resumed their course, and ashes turned into flowers.
Each leaf, each breath, each particle vibrated in harmony with this divine order.
But it was more than restoration:
It was a rewriting of order itself.
In his presence, no hostility or hatred could survive, no conflict could arise.
His very existence imposed absolute peace, an absolute neutralization of all hostility.
Before Chōkō, neither the primordial gods, nor the great demons, nor even the infernal demon emperors could raise a hand.
His authority sprang not from power... but from a right to be that nothing in this world or another could contest.
Even the strange Sakolomi, deformed by his own rage and the distorted laws of his being, had frozen.
His eyes flickered, as if he had just awakened from a nightmare whose cause and end he did not understand.
Before Hikari-no-Mukidō, all hostility dissolved.
It was not fear or submission — it was an ontological impossibility of being an enemy.
His essence, his name, his very principle… had been disarmed by the mere presence of this light.
Hikari-no-Mukidō advanced.
His steps made no sound, but each movement seemed to bend air and reshape reality's contours.
He lifted his weapon — a strange lance, whose tip formed a golden hammer, symbol of judgment, while the other side ended in an infinitely fine needle, an absolute blade able to pierce all matter, all concept, all truth.
— Rest in peace, fragment of error, he murmured.
The lance pierced Sakolomi.
No pain.
Only a breath.
A release.
The light spread in his body like a silent tide, dissolving his marks, erasing the distortions of his being.
His eyes closed gently, his face regained its original form.
His hair, once dulled by corruption, recovered its brown shade and human shine.
Hikari-no-Mukidō slowly withdrew the lance.
A golden halo escaped from the wound — not blood, but pure light — before Sakolomi's body collapsed peacefully to the ground.
The god observed the silence he had just established for a moment.
Then, with a calm, almost weary voice, he declared:
— This... is accomplished.
Around them, the light continued to shine, motionless, as if the world itself held its breath.
In a suspended castle, floating between opaque clouds and azure flashes, Salomi stood motionless near a fractured arch.
Her body still bore the marks of endless battles: faint black marks pulsed beneath her skin, memories of a fight against entities whose names could not even be retained.
The high-altitude wind whistled against broken stained glass.
Below, Kai watched the inverted sea surrounding the suspended tower. His crossed arms betrayed a tension he struggled to contain.
Both knew something was wrong.
Salomi, with a trembling voice:
— I wonder… how brother could have made this world so unstable…
Kai said nothing. His eyes remained fixed on the wavering curves of the horizon.
The imaginary world of Oniyurei was slowly cracking, as if a foreign force was gnawing it from within.
And that force… came from Sakolomi.
Then, suddenly, a deep vibration shook the air.
A circle of light formed before them, and from this portal emerged Shylty, closely followed by a colossal figure — the creature that had fought Sakolomi.
In its arms, the unconscious being, the broken body still throbbing with strange energy: Sakolomi himself.
Salomi exclaimed, heart pounding:
— Brother!!
But her words froze immediately.
Her eyes met those — or rather, the abysses — of the creature. An instinctive fear seized her.
— What… is that thing?
Shylty, calm and composed, answered straightforwardly:
— It's a Myophore.
Kai frowned, wary:
— A Myophore? Never heard of it…
Shylty stepped forward, the dying light of the portal behind her.
— The Myophores are the highest representatives of the Primordial Spirits.
They were born from the Abyfage, a creature of the void of the Zero-Notion, where even thought collapses.
They are creatures of the nothingness, those who lurk near sibylline worlds.
Salomi, worried but curious:
— And… are they friendly?
A slight smile passed over Shylty's lips.
— As for friendliness, let's say it depends on who summons them or who they possess.
She then slowly turned her gaze to the Myophore, whose presence seemed to alter even the gravity of the place.
Its blue and black aura formed unstable waves around Sakolomi.
— But this one is different… very different.
Its original thread with the Abyfage has been broken.
In other words… this Myophore has been detached from its Source.
Salomi straightened abruptly:
— Impossible! Creatures only live by their Source. Who could break such a bond?!
Shylty replied in a grave voice:
— A higher-ranking entity.
Someone — or something — tore it from the Abyfage, to make it an autonomous meta-conceptual entity.
This Myophore is no longer an emanation of the void. It has become a void with its own identity.
Salomi's eyes widened:
— But… what being could do such a thing?
Shylty cast her gaze on the creature, almost compassionate:
— It knows who raised it so high as well.
And that is likely why it does not speak.
Myophores normally have no will of their own — they obey the Abyfage.
If it has been detached… it means it was used, perhaps against its nature.
Silence weighed in the suspended hall.
The lights around the Myophore flickered, as if reality hesitated to exist too close to it.
Its unfathomable red eyes slowly turned toward Shylty.
— That is exactly it, it finally whispered.
Kai, stunned, took a step back:
— It speaks...?
Shylty nodded softly.
— It speaks because it has been forced to become something it should never have been.
Kai clenched his fists.
— But… what entity can manipulate a Myophore to the point of breaking its bond with nothingness?
What purpose in creating such an aberration?
Did they want to make it... a weapon?
The Myophore remained silent.
Its gaze lost in the void, as if the answer did not exist in this world.
Only a dull wave passed through the hall, a vibration that made the ether walls of the suspended castle creak.
And, for the first time, Shylty lowered her eyes.
A rare worry crossed her gaze.