Chapter 128: At the Risk of Total Death

Sakolomé, feeling the murderous energy charge back, observed the creature with a changed gaze. He murmured, calm but resolute:

— Rivhiamë… I'll need the mana of the Narrative. But not now.

Rivhiamë, exasperated but admiring, growled inwardly:

— You really are an incurable stubborn mule…

But she understood. He wanted to win this fight his own way.

Suddenly, the two adversaries launched toward each other like meteors slicing through the void.

The clash was brutal. BAM!

Then BAM!

Two blows, two titans, two wills.

Sakolomé struck the creature, making it stagger — no real damage, but enough to make it blink.

With a precise jump, he followed with a kick to the temple.

But the creature absorbed it and, in a sharp move, grabbed his leg.

CRAC!

— Grrrr…!! — Sakolomé gritted his teeth. His leg had just been snapped clean.

Rivhiamë reacted immediately, regenerating the bone with a greenish flow. The flesh reformed, alive.

Sakolomé spun on himself in the momentum of pain, turning his whirlwind into an attack —

BOOM!

A violent hook crashed onto the creature's jaw, which spat a spray of black and golden mana from the impact.

He landed, panting, fists clenched:

— You are powerful… I admit that.

Then he struck again, even harder.

— But I… have experience!

The blow echoed in the void, and this time, the creature retreated several kilometers.

Then everything accelerated.

They launched again, and this time it was a true race of shooting stars across the universe.

They crossed entire planets, pulverized asteroids, shattered moons,

passed through solar systems imploding under the impact of their exchanges.

The creature hit harder, that was a fact.

But Sakolomé hit better.

He dodged, feinted, deflected, counterattacked.

He was not just strong, he was used to fighting, a veteran of chaos.

In a cosmic flash, Sakolomé shouted:

— You're just a newborn!!

His voice resonated like a challenge, like a sharp truth.

And somewhere, in the creature's gaze…

there was hesitation. A hint of doubt. A crack in the fury.

The creature attacked, a fist of phenomenal force slicing through space.

But Sakolomé dodged with a swift move, ducked and slid under the outstretched arm.

— Too slow.

At the same instant, he counterattacked, a dry strike to the creature's abdomen that made it recoil.

Sakolomé, cold gaze but provocative tone:

— I'm 15 years old. You, what… two hours of existence?

— You can be born superpowered, but experience can't be improvised! You're still 10 years behind, kid!

He followed up, vanished in a burst of speed, reappeared behind the creature —

Tac! Bam! Bim!

A series of precise, powerful, controlled blows.

The creature took it badly. Its body trembled. It retreated, surprised.

Rivhiamë, inwardly, let out an almost admiring sigh:

— I have to admit… Your hand-to-hand combat skill is exceptional.

Sakolomé, faintly smiling:

— It's not every day a demon compliments me…

He wiped a trace of blood from the corner of his lips.

— I'm going to get a big head!

But Rivhiamë, still lucid, replied:

— Don't rest on that. You're pushing it, yes. But you won't break it with just that.

— To traumatize it, you'll have to hit harder. Hit what it is, not just what it does.

Suddenly, the creature screamed, a silent wave of golden mana exploding from its body.

Thousands of destructive spheres shot in all directions like dead stars.

Sakolomé jumped, slid, pivoted, dodged.

A true rain of death.

But he avoided them all, in a perfectly timed deadly dance.

And then, he realized.

— Wait a second…

He looked around.

The sky. The planet below.

Earth.

— I was so carried away… that I was going in circles all this time?!

Before he could think more, the creature reappeared before him, menacing.

But Sakolomé stared at the horizon without fear. And whispered, resolute:

— Rivhiamë… Now.

A breath passed through his body. The mana of the Narrative covered him with an iridescent golden cloak.

SWIP.

He disappeared.

Too fast. Too silent.

Even the creature did not see him coming.

BOOM.

Sakolomé's fist crashed right on its cheek.

It tilted its head, groggy.

He followed up.

BOOM. BOOM. BAM!

Each blow was faster, heavier, deeper.

The mana of the Narrative broke the inner layers of its being.

The creature staggered, spat blood.

Sakolomé, laughing, almost mocking:

— So, newborn… Less fun when the opponent is scary, huh?!

He kept hitting.

BOOM. TAC. SWISH.

And between blows:

— You don't even have a name, huh? Well. Someone's gotta take care of that!

— I'll call you… Pascal? Nah, too old.

— Terance? No, you don't look like a Terance.

— Prisca!? You like Prisca?

The creature growled, lost between pain and confusion.

Rivhiamë, inwardly, visibly annoyed:

— You're really bad at naming things, you know…

Sakolomé, almost broken but with humor persisting despite the pain:

— Anyway… We'll talk about the name later, okay…

BAMM!!!

A blow of overwhelming power exploded in the creature's stomach. It retreated under the impact, space vibrating.

Sakolomé, stern face, grave tone:

— Now, it's time to scare you…

He charged.

The creature attacked in turn.

Sakolomé dodged, twirled, then struck —

CRACK.

His own arm cracked. A sharp pain.

Rivhiamë, alarmed:

— Remove the mana! Your body has reached its limits!

Sakolomé, steel gaze:

— No. I'll tell you when it's over.

Rivhiamë, taken aback:

— What?! You want to die?!

But he continued. He struck again.

CRACK. Another crack.

Then another blow.

CRACK.

Rivhiamë, frantic voice:

— Sakolomé, stop!! It's dangerous! You're falling apart!!

But he no longer listened.

He gathered all his will, let out a furious cry, and struck.

BOOOOM!!!

A blow of titanic violence.

The creature was thrown, spiraling in the spatial void like a meteor, crossing Saturn's rings in a shower of energy shards. It finally landed, barely, breathless.

It spat a bloody spray.

Its gaze… was no longer the same.

It was no longer pure rage. It was uncertainty. A confused fear. Mixed with instinct. With anger. With a form of brutal respect.

Sakolomé lowered his eyes to his own body.

Green, luminous cracks snaked along his skin.

His flesh… began to crumble, grain by grain, like irradiated sand.

A slow disintegration.

Rivhiamë, panicked:

— You've gone too far! I'm cutting everything off now!!

But at the same moment…

Space darkened.

Something approached.

A titanic red spear, longer than the entire solar system, materialized above Sakolomé.

An object so immense, so heavy, so fatal, it bent reality around it.

Rivhiamë, shocked:

— Damn…!!!

Sakolomé, a smirk despite the pain:

— Yeah, it's probably not the best time to take my mana away, don't you think?!

He lowered his head, spat some blood, then placed a burning hand on his cracked arm.

The other arm tensed, ready to strike, ready to endure.

Sakolomé, calm voice, hard gaze:

— We're going to end this fight… now.