Chapter 143: The Night Before Entering the World of Myths

Sakolomé had returned to his room. The curtains, half drawn, let in the reddish light of a strange twilight, as if the sky itself sensed that something was brewing. He was alone, sitting on the floor, legs crossed, Sally's journal open before him. Every page had been read and reread, especially the parts about places visited. Every word, every crossing-out, every exclamation point or hesitant stroke had been scrutinized.

And yet… nothing.

No clue about Ysolongue's exact location, no map, no name of a mythical city, no tangible landmark. Just phrases full of tenderness, half-spoken dreams, and the cruel impression that Sally had never had the time or will to say more.

Sakolomé ran his hand through his hair, looking frustrated.

— "Nothing…" he murmured. "Absolutely nothing. How am I supposed to find her in an entire world I don't even know?"

He closed the journal with a weary gesture. This world of myths was not a map one could follow or a destination on a compass. It was another plane of existence, a realm of legends, shifting laws, and living symbols. He felt small. Like a child at the door of a dream too vast.

Shushu, who until then had been curled up on a wooden shelf, jumped nimbly and climbed onto his master's shoulder. He stretched, yawned loudly, then tapped Sakolomé's temple with a claw.

— "You're overthinking it, Father."

Sakolomé gave him a slightly annoyed look.

— "I have no coordinates, Shushu. No place names, no local legends. I'm just going to get lost there."

— "Maybe…" replied the miniature demon, settling more comfortably. "But you forgot I'm here."

— "So? Are you going to draw me a magic map with your tongue?"

Shushu chuckled, his scarlet eyes sparkling with mischief.

— "No need. I'm a demon from Hell, remember? My existence isn't ordinary; it's an interference. A disturbance in the flow of an ordered world. Wherever I go, I make noise. Not sound noise… sensory noise."

Sakolomé frowned, intrigued.

— "You mean… you can be sensed?"

— "Exactly. My demonic aura, even if I suppress it, leaves a trace. And in a world as mythological as the one you want to visit, some entities sense this kind of intrusion. They feel it as an anomaly."

He raised a clawed finger.

— "And do you know who among the entities is sensitive to this kind of 'disturbance' in the air? Beings like Ysolongue."

Sakolomé's heart leapt.

— "Wait… you mean if we go there, you can… expose yourself, or at least emit something she might feel?"

Shushu nodded slowly.

— "I'll avoid causing a general panic, don't worry. But if Ysolongue is the type to guard her territory or protect certain regions of the mythical world… then yes, she'll react. Maybe not immediately. Maybe not visibly. But she'll see us. Or at least she'll know that a demon like me has slipped in. And she'll come."

Silence fell in the room. Not a heavy silence, but a silence full of contained hope.

— "It's risky," murmured Sakolomé.

— "Of course it is," replied Shushu. "It's the world of myths, Father. There, everything is meaning, symbol, power. And I'm a foreign vibration. I'm the discordant violin in a sacred symphony. If she hears the dissonance, she'll come to tune the string. Or tear it out."

Sakolomé smiled, a little despite himself.

— "Poetic, for a demon."

Shushu puffed out his chest proudly.

— "I'm the elite of sensory parasites."

Then he grew serious again.

— "But you have to be ready. If she comes, she'll come as an instance of the mythical world. Not as a friend. Not as 'Sally told me about you.' She'll come as a judge, maybe a guardian, maybe a warrior."

— "And if she recognizes me? If she feels Sally in me?" asked Sakolomé in a softer voice.

Shushu didn't answer immediately. Then:

— "Then she'll test you. And if you're not up to what Sally told her about you… she'll reject you."

Sakolomé closed his eyes for a moment. He felt the tension rise in his chest. But he straightened up, determined.

— "So be it. Prepare yourself, Shushu. We enter the world of myths at dawn tomorrow."

The little demon grinned fiercely.

— "I'm already ready, Father."

Night had already fallen some time ago.

The room was bathed in a bluish glow.

Sitting on his bed, legs crossed, Sakolomé held the journal once again in his hands. Shushu, curled up in a ball, slept on his shoulder, emitting little demonic squeaks, as if chewing something in his dreams.

He turned a page at random.

"Hahaha, today was absurd. There were these ogres, you know, the half-merchant, half-warrior kind, fighting to the death with a band of moon elves over some hunting territory… or hair dye, I didn't quite get it.

I intervened when one of the ogres tried to hit an elf with a dead ram… like a club.

They all stopped fighting just to look at me, because I yelled at them with Bakuzan's voice (yeah, I imitate well now). Result: the elves invited the ogres to drink fermented sap, and a little ogre puked in the captain's boots.

I love this world."

A small laugh escaped Sakolomé's throat. A tired but sincere laugh.

— "That's so you, Sally… Even in a dangerous world, you found a way to give people peace."

He gently closed the journal, holding it for a moment against his chest. The atmosphere in the room shifted slightly. The laughter faded, replaced by silence, a silence heavier than a thousand words.

Sakolomé raised his eyes to the window. In the distance, the stars shone. Tomorrow, he would enter the world of myths. Where Sally had lived, where she had met Ysolongue, where she had perhaps found meaning in it all.

But what would he find there?

— "What if Ysolongue doesn't love me? If she sees me as a threat?… And what if Kai Joron is there, waiting for me?…"

He clenched his teeth slightly.

Kai. The supposed most powerful human… or at least the second now.

And especially Ebon Woe.

The Black Grief.

Sakolomé stood and approached the window. He leaned on it, his gaze lost in the void.

— "How does one become someone like him?… How can a mortal… leave the causal weave without divine help?… Without even his name being retained by the Library of Existence?"

The name echoed in his head like a whisper heavy with meaning.

Black Grief. Dark sadness. Frozen pain. A name not chosen at random.

— "Who are you really?… And why do I feel like I'm going to end up crossing your path?"

A shiver ran down his spine. Not fear, no. But a confused mix of respect, mystery, and existential worry.

Was he an enemy? An example? Or a warning?

He glanced at Shushu, still asleep, who twitched, growling softly.

He smiled.

— "You… you're not scared, huh?…"

As if hearing his name, Shushu woke with a start, his red eyes still sleepy.

— "Huh?… Why do you talk to me like I'm your mortal teddy bear?…"

Sakolomé smiled.

— "Tomorrow, we leave. But I don't know exactly where to go. Sally left no clue about where Ysolongue is."

Shushu yawned so hard a tiny flame came out of his mouth.

— "Well… let me handle it. I have expanded sensory senses; if you throw me into this world of myths, I can infect one or two systems. You know, like a little magical sensory contact, soft as poison. Just strong enough for a sensitive entity to feel it."

Sakolomé raised an eyebrow.

— "You mean some kind of call?"

— "A call that stings a bit, yeah. And since I come from Hell, it won't go unnoticed. Powerful entities don't like feeling demons hanging where they shouldn't."

— "And you think Ysolongue will feel it?"

Shushu sat on his head like a king on his throne.

— "Father. A dragon that advanced? If she has the senses they say… she'll feel my demonic aura like an aura tremor in the ether. It's like putting a splinter in a calm lake. She'll react, trust me."

Sakolomé nodded slowly. It wasn't a perfect solution. But it was a foothold.

Finally.

He sighed deeply.

— "Alright. Tomorrow, we jump."

Shushu lay down, tail in his eyes.

— "And the day after tomorrow, we run."

Sakolomé smiled again, then returned to sit on the edge of the bed. He placed Sally's journal on his bedside table, then looked one last time at the stars.

A new world. A legendary dragoness. A human turned void.

And him… a simple mortal, about to disturb the laws.