While Velda had just spoken to him about the states of existence, Sakolomé scratched his head with weariness.
Sakolomé (sighing):
— I really have bad luck… First family problems, an association that wants to kill us, a devil beyond my understanding who killed my father… and now… here I am using a transcendent energy that puts myself in danger...
No sooner had he finished his sentence than Velda suddenly grasped his hand with intensity.
Sakolomé (surprised):
— Huh?! What are you doing, Velda?
Velda did not answer immediately. She inspected Sakolomé's hand with a troubled, almost upset look.
Velda (whispering):
— …This doesn't make sense…
Sakolomé (frowning):
— What doesn't make sense?
Velda finally lifted her eyes to him, her gaze shining with a slightly worried gleam.
Velda:
— Your body. It has nothing. Not a burn, not a mark. Yet you are clearly using soul energy.
And that… is supposed to be impossible. Your consciousness is still anchored in your body. Completely separate from the soul.
Sakolomé:
— Uh… I don't understand what you're saying…
Velda sighed deeply, then gently released his hand.
Velda (teaching):
— Listen to me carefully. I'm going to explain simply.
Your existence is made up of several fundamental layers. You have five: the body, the mind, the soul, the narrative, and the being.
— The body is the only physical state. The other four are spiritual and transcendent. They are progressively higher, like floors of a building.
But what allows you to inhabit one of these floors is your consciousness. It is what defines your level of existence.
Velda (calm, composed):
— In your case, your consciousness is entirely lodged in the body. So… you are your body.
Which means the other levels — the mind, the soul, etc. — are there, but like locked rooms. You don't live there yet.
So in theory, you cannot use the energy of those levels. Because it doesn't belong to you yet.
Sakolomé:
— …And so if I use it anyway, I should explode?
Velda:
— Exactly. Because the body, being inferior, is not made to withstand a higher energy.
And your consciousness is not made to process or contain such power. You should have been blown to pieces the first time you summoned it.
Sakolomé (stunned):
— …But I'm still here…
Velda (with a tight smile):
— That's exactly what worries me.
Sakolomé (lost):
— …But I still don't understand. Why is it so serious that my consciousness is in my body and that I use soul energy? It's just energy, right?
Velda stared at him for a moment. Then she slowly blinked.
Velda:
— Ok. Imagine something simple. You see an electrical outlet at your home, right?
Plugged into a 230-volt source.
This outlet is your body. Now imagine you want to plug in… a phone. It supports 5 volts, no more. Otherwise, it explodes.
Sakolomé:
— …Yeah. Makes sense.
Velda (pointing to her head):
— Now, transpose that to you.
Your body is the outlet.
Your consciousness is the phone.
And the soul energy is a 10,000-volt source.
Sakolomé (eyes wide open):
— …So I plugged my brain into a nuclear power plant without an adapter?
Velda (dryly):
— Exactly. And yet… you don't burn. You don't melt. Your body doesn't give out.
It's not normal. It's not even a blessing.
It's an anomaly.
Sakolomé (frowning):
— You mean… I'm something that shouldn't exist?
Velda did not answer immediately. Then she said, almost in a low voice:
Velda:
— I mean… you are something that even the narratives haven't yet managed to write. And that… that can attract things.
A heavy silence settled.
Sakolomé let out a long sigh, eyes raised to the overcast sky.
Sakolomé: "This is really too weird, all of this..."
Velda crossed her arms and tilted her head, her gaze still fixed on him.
Velda: "The strangest thing is not that you find this strange… It's that your body is intact. I examined it from every angle, again and again. Not a scratch. It's not an optical illusion, I guarantee you. Even Gorgonax confirmed it to me."
Sakolomé: "Gorgonax?"
He lowered his eyes to the little goat he still held in his arms. It stared at him with its blood-red eyes, unperturbed.
Sakolomé: "Wait… I thought it didn't talk?"
Velda (smiling): "Not her, him. And no, Gorgonax doesn't speak like you humans. He knows neither your words nor your sentences. He communicates in a language you couldn't even translate."
Sakolomé sighed again, gently shaking his head.
Sakolomé: "This mythical world is definitely too weird for me…"
Velda raised an eyebrow and answered quickly.
Velda: "Right now, you are stranger than all the mythical world combined."
Sakolomé (laughing, a bit proud): "Hey, maybe I'm a hero of the prophecy, who knows?"
Velda glared at him, relentless.
Velda: "A hero who doesn't even have the strength to beat his brother or use mana? I hope you're joking."
Sakolomé collapsed inwardly. Gorgonax, still nestled against him, gave what strongly resembled a mocking smile.
Sakolomé: "You, Gorgonax, I saw you! You're making fun of me! That means you understood what Velda just said, you hypocritical goat!"
Velda burst out laughing seeing Sakolomé seriously arguing with a goat.
After this little moment of lightness, Sakolomé regained his seriousness. He gently handed Gorgonax to Velda.
Sakolomé: "Well… It's time for me to go find my brother. Thanks for everything, Velda."
Velda: "You're welcome, little human."
Sakolomé scratched his head, looking thoughtful.
Sakolomé: "I wonder where Bakuzan could be now..."
Velda (calm, but precise): "He is currently in front of your father's grave."
Sakolomé's eyes widened.
Sakolomé: "In front of dad's grave?! But... it's here, in this cemetery!"
Velda (nodding): "Exactly. And he won't stay there long, so if you want to catch up with him, you'd better hurry."
Sakolomé: "You're right!"
He turned around and started running, determined.
Sakolomé (shouting over his shoulder): "Thanks again, Velda!!"
Velda, a sly smile on her lips, watched the boy's silhouette disappear among the tombstones, while Gorgonax slowly lowered his head, as if understanding the importance of what was to come.
Sakolomé ran, looking serious, breath short. His steps led him straight to his father's grave. He stopped only when he saw a silhouette sitting before the funerary stele — a figure draped in a long black hooded cloak, motionless, almost solemn. As if granting itself the right to be there.
Sakolomé, in a low voice:
— Bakuzan...
The silhouette shuddered, as if suddenly pulled from a deep sleep.
Sakolomé approached slowly.
— So, Bakuzan… What does it feel like to have been devoured by darkness?
No answer. The back of the silhouette bent slightly, as if crushed by an invisible weight.
— Big brother, how do you feel?… How far must one sink to exterminate an entire clan?
A long silence. Then a dull, exhausted voice finally rose.
Bakuzan:
— How do I feel? Imagine a simple pebble… tiny… carrying all the darkness of the universe on its shoulders. And that this darkness, slowly, has emptied you from within.
Sakolomé frowned.
— What are you talking about? How did you end up like that?
Bakuzan leaned to the side, grabbed a white mask with sharp horns lying in the grass. He placed it on his face slowly, then stood up. His silhouette, upright, seemed frozen in icy resolution.
— I made my choice, he said. I will never again let anyone trample on our family.
Sakolomé clenched his fists.
— I can understand this need for justice… but you massacred an entire clan, Bakuzan!
— It was the price to pay for what they did to Mother.
Sakolomé recoiled. His throat tightened.
— There were innocents among them… People who may never have raised a hand against her. You didn't distinguish the guilty from the others.
Bakuzan remained impassive.
— That's no longer my problem. I learned that some Swif had tried to assassinate Mother. So I declared war on all who bear that name.
Sakolomé stood frozen. In his eyes, pain and astonishment mingled.
Before him, his brother was nothing but a shadow, swallowed by vengeance.