While the titanic battle between Nairo and Gaius raged on, much farther away, in a region devastated by energy waves, two figures slowly rose amidst the rubble.
Salome, one hand against her temple, grimaced:
— Ouch... my head... it's pounding.
Bakuran, already standing, cautiously surveyed the horizon:
— Hm. Nairo didn't just send us aside... We were teleported far, very far from the battlefield.
Salome, rising, cast a worried glance at her brother:
— You think? No matter. We don't have a second to lose. Gaius... he's too immense a threat.
Her voice vibrated with icy determination.
Bakuran nodded slowly:
— Makes sense. He took several transcendent attacks without even flinching... that's not human.
Salome:
— Exactly. The others are exhausted... If we delay too long, it'll be too late!
Bakuran swallowed, then took a deep breath:
— You're right. We have to re—
A sound cut them off abruptly.
Cloc. Cloc. Cloc.
Steps. Slow. Steady. Echoing through the ruins like a timeless echo.
Salome (frowning):
— Huh? Someone? In a place like this?
Bakuran immediately went on guard, wary:
— Watch out. It could be a mutant.
A silhouette emerged from the shadows.
Piercing red eyes, yet with a strangely gentle gleam. An almost ordinary appearance: messy brown hair, a few strands falling over the forehead, a simple white tank top, emerald green soft fabric pants. Black gloves, some bandages on the torso and arms.
A smile immediately lit up Salome's face.
Salome (in awe):
— …Big brother?!
She ran without thinking and threw herself into his arms.
— Sakolome!
Sakolome grimaced as he caught her.
Sakolome (groaning):
— Easy, Salome... I'm still sore all over, haha...
Bakuran approached, intrigued:
— You're hurt? What happened to you?
Sakolome slowly raised his arms, showing his bandages with a somewhat ironic smile:
— I had a run-in with Bakuzan. Let's say... we settled some scores.
Salome stepped back slightly, suddenly worried:
— You fought? But why?
Sakolome placed a hand affectionately on her head.
— See all these bandages? They're not for decoration.
He resumed, more seriously this time:
— Bakuzan... he's become someone else. He reflects a face that's no longer really his own.
He paused, searching for words.
— He's suffering. Deeply. But instead of healing... he's sinking further. He's hurting himself more because he thinks it's the only way out. And worst of all... he accepts this pain. He refuses to listen to us.
Silence settled. Thick. Salome, eyes fixed on the ground, lost in thought.
Bakuran sighed:
— Do you think... we can still bring him back?
Sakolome looked up, resolute.
— Of course we can. He's our brother. Even if he becomes the devil himself, we will never abandon him.
Those words acted like a balm. Salome slowly raised her head, a faint smile on her lips.
But Sakolome didn't stop there.
Sakolome:
— And before that, there's something else. I have to deal with those who talk about us... as mistakes to eradicate.
Bakuran (surprised):
— Wait... you mean you plan to fight again in your state?!
Salome (stepping away from him):
— No! You must rest, big brother. You're still injured!
Sakolome shook his head gently, a cold gleam in his pupils:
— Rest? I've rested enough already.
He clenched his fists.
— I'm not going to keep sleeping while the world is burning.
Sakolome was about to leave, ready to join the chaos...
But a figure suddenly blocked his path.
Bakuran.
He stood straight, arms slightly spread, his hard gaze locked on his brother's.
Bakuran —
— If you want to go fight... you'll have to go over my body.
Sakolome stopped dead, blinking, surprised.
— Huh? What are you talking about...?
A second figure immediately stood beside Bakuran.
Salome.
Her face was serious, determined.
Salome
— Me too, I'll oppose you. You're not going anywhere in this state, big brother.
Look at you! You're still covered in wounds! You can barely lift your arms!
A tense silence settled.
Then Sakolome closed his eyes... and gave a small smile.
Sakolome:
— My will to fight... is stronger than my body.
If I have to convince you, then so be it... I'll do it with my fists.
He stepped back, then made a wide leap, landing smoothly a few meters away.
His feet slid slightly on the rocky ground.
His hands rose in guard.
Sakolome:
— Show me you're still my little brother and sister... or... stop me.
Salome (clenching her fists):
— Fine. You asked for it!
In a perfectly synchronized movement, Salome and Bakuran charged.
Quick, supple, lively jumps propelled them into the air.
One to the right. The other to the left.
Two converging trajectories.
Two powerful kicks sliced the air, aiming at Sakolome's sides.
He crossed his arms in a firm guard, hands extended.
BAMM!!!
The impact was brutal. The ground beneath his feet cracked with a sinister crack.
The earth trembled.
Sakolome (grimacing):
— Tch... Damn!
His arms trembled. Numb. His breath caught for a moment.
But he held firm.
He pivoted on one foot and performed two backflips to regain distance, teeth clenched.
Barely had he touched the ground when his two opponents were already rushing at him.
Bakuran:
— We're not going to let you die like this, idiot!
Salome:
— Get ready, we're going all out!
Sakolome smiled despite himself.
His gaze, though exhausted, shone with a burning gleam.
Salome leapt again, launching a spinning knee strike.
Sakolome barely dodged, but no sooner had he landed than Bakuran appeared behind him.
Bakuran:
— Not this time!
A palm strike hit Sakolome in the ribs, throwing him backward.
He rolled on the ground but got up immediately.
He bled slightly from the forehead.
His breath was short.
His arms were already covered in bruises.
But he smiled.
Sakolome (wiping blood with the back of his arm)
— You're not holding back, huh...
Salome:
— You asked for it!
They charged again. Their movements were fast, precise, coordinated.
Salome attacked from above, chaining spinning kicks, while Bakuran aimed low, alternating hooks and sweeps.
Sakolome parried, dodged, sometimes counterattacked, but his body could no longer hold.
His limbs grew heavy. Each impact painfully resonated in his bones.
He jumped backward, panting, and thought:
Sakolome (internally):
— Judging by how they're attacking me... I feel like they're trying to send me straight to the hospital, both of them!
A familiar voice echoed in his mind.
Dark. Mocking.
Rivhiamë (internally):
— Given your state, you're clearly not fit to fight right now.
Sakolome (grumbling):
— Rivhiamë... you're not helping, you know?
Rivhiamë:
— Well. If you want my help, just ask for it.
Sakolome:
— Pff, as if you could really do anything.
He stopped. Blinked. Thought.
Sakolome:
— Wait... You could really help me?
Rivhiamë:
— Of course. Remember, we're one now. A demon and a young human, fused. Your body... is also mine.
Sakolome's eyes widened.
A smile slowly stretched his lips.
Sakolome (internally):
— Perfect... Tell me. Can you heal my wounds? Restore all my strength?
Rivhiamë:
— You want me to restore your former brilliance... and even a bit more?
Sakolome:
— Exactly.
Rivhiamë (softly):
— Consider it done.
He shrugged, exhaling with a smile.
Sakolome:
— When I think you could have healed me from the start, but madam preferred to stay silent, pff...
Rivhiamë (mocking laugh):
— You just had to ask nicely.
Sakolome:
— Doesn't matter! Do it now!
And at that moment...
As Salome and Bakuran each rushed from opposite sides, ready to deliver a double destructive blow, Sakolome suddenly crossed his arms in front of him.
An emerald light burst violently from his body.
BOOOOOM!
An explosion of energy swept the surroundings with a deafening crash.
The earth cracked. Stones were thrown far away. A dense mist covered the entire battlefield.
When it cleared... a silence struck the space.
A warm wind gently blew between the ruins.
And there... standing in the center of the smoking crater, Sakolome.
His body was now haloed with intense green mana, like a living flame running across his skin.
His bandages had torn under the effect of the transformation.
His wounds had vanished.
His eyes shone with a new, almost supernatural intensity.
He firmly held Salome's and Bakuran's wrists, stopping them cold in their assault.
Sakolome (slowly raising his head, a smirk on his lips)
— Perfect.
Sakolome released Salome's and Bakuran's wrists, who instinctively jumped back to regain their guard.
He then stood tall, chest bare, confident gaze, his hair lifted by the flow of emerald mana surrounding him like a living aura.
Sakolome (smiling calmly)
— So?
Shall we continue this little training... or call it a draw?
Bakuran (frowning)
— What's that mana wrapping you? It's almost tangible.
Salome (stunned)
— Huh? But... big brother, you're better? It's like you were never hurt!
Sakolome examined his own wrist, turned it slightly, tested his joints.
Sakolome (nodding in approval)
— That's right. I'm completely healed.
Intrigued, Salome approached him, circled around, inspected his face, back, arms, tugged his sleeve as if expecting an illusion to collapse.
Salome (curious and insistent)
— You're bluffing, are you sure you didn't put some kind of magic filter? Wait, lean a bit...
Sakolome (embarrassed, gently grabbing her hair to stop her from fiddling with his head)
— Ok, ok, stop, Salome! You look like you're examining an alien fallen from the sky!
Bakuran (squinting)
— Seriously, did you just need to get hit a bit to recover, or is there another explanation?
Sakolome (looking up with a vague smile)
— Let's say... I got a little help from inside.
But he had no time to elaborate.
A distant rumble suddenly erupted in the sky.
The ground vibrated slightly.
All three turned their heads simultaneously, their gazes drawn to a huge black smoke column, mushroom-shaped, rising far away, visible for miles.
The very air seemed to warp around the impact zone.
Bakuran (grave tone)
— That's over there...
The fight against Gaius.
Salome froze, worried eyes, fists clenched.
Sakolome looked to the horizon, the shadow of the battlefield reflected in his pupils.
A smile slowly stretched his lips. Calm. Resolute.
Sakolome (in a calm but sharp tone)
— Perfect.
It's time we go...
And put an end to this chaos.