The primordial gods nodded, without a word.
Then Sakolomeh disappeared.
There was neither light, nor visible rupture.
Where he had stood with the creature, there was nothing — as if that portion of reality had been removed from the narrative.
Mü Thanatos slowly raised her eyes to the sky.
The Anarchétypes.
As monstrous, as inconceivable as they were, they came from the same place as her true being.
The Chôrion.
She felt it now.
The bond that Sakolomeh had reestablished burned softly in her, like a memory that could no longer be forgotten.
She was not the only one.
The other primordial gods were awakening in turn, their gazes changed, heavier, more lucid.
They were no longer merely figures of the Dream.
They remembered what they truly supported.
Even the father god and Lucifer, still marked by their antagonism, had fallen silent.
A silent, fragile, but necessary truce had imposed itself on them.
With the disappearance of Absolute Resonance, the creatures of the Dream had regained their autonomy.
Their thoughts, their fears, their wills belonged to them again.
But the sky…
The sky itself was no longer safe.
The Anarchétypes still hovered, suspended impossibilities, foreign to the Dream, foreign to all coherence.
Their mere presence threatened to collapse what had just barely been saved.
Action was needed.
Now.
Mü Thanatos projected herself toward the heights and, with a dull roar, deployed an immense dome around the living world.
A fragile but determined membrane, stretched between the Dream and the unspeakable.
— Push them back!
Her voice resonated through all the layers of reality.
The father god appeared in his ancient form, white beard whipped by winds that did not exist.
Munhwan, and the other primordial gods, joined him immediately.
Together, they deployed spheres of constraint, fields of coherence, temporary borders against the impossible.
For they now knew.
The primordial gods were echoes of the Chôrion, shaped to maintain the Dream, to give it a habitable form.
The Anarchétypes, they, were other echoes — rawer, vaster — realities that recognized neither dream, nor narration, nor limit.
All were Absolute.
But not for the same function.
And that imbalance…
was on the verge of setting the sky ablaze.
In the non-place, the battle raged.
There was neither space, nor time, nor distance — only the brute collision of two absolute incompatibilities.
The All that encompasses everything, exceeds everything, corrects everything…
against that which could not be corrected, for it fit into no possible grid.
Absolute Resonance extended its hand.
A simple, total gesture.
A silent order destined to force Sakolomeh to merge, to lose the anomaly he incarnated, to become an acceptable variation again.
But there was nothing.
Nothing to grasp.
Nothing to unify.
Because at the precise place where Resonance sought an existence…
there was no purchase.
Sakolomeh charged.
The clash produced neither wave, nor light.
It produced a coherence fault.
Strikes were exchanged without trajectory, without support, each impact tearing a logic that had never been written.
Sakolomeh smiled — an almost human smile — and struck with all his strength.
Resonance recoiled.
He wanted to follow up, but his wrists were seized.
Resonance raised its head.
Where no mouth should have existed, the surface cracked.
An opening formed.
Not a mouth — an emission.
A sphere of light was born, dense, mute, total.
The attack was released.
It did not traverse the non-place.
It declared it invalid.
Outside, the father god's Dream trembled without understanding why.
The Chôrion itself — absolute impossibility — wavered, brushing paradox, simply because something had touched it without ever occurring there.
The attacks of Absolute Resonance did not need a place.
They affected all places, at the same time, without distinction.
In the non-place, the discharge reached Sakolomeh.
And yet…
nothing.
No wound.
No reaction.
As if the attack had struck a concept already absent.
Sakolomeh bent his knee and slammed it violently against what served as a chin.
Resonance let go.
Sakolomeh stepped back a few paces, still smiling.
— This must not be very amusing for you, all this… huh?
In that smile, there was neither arrogance, nor provocation.
Only a troubling certainty:
the All had just encountered something
that it could neither absorb,
nor deny,
nor understand.
Absolute Resonance would not stop there.
Not as long as the error that Sakolomeh represented persisted.
It advanced.
Or rather: the distance between them ceased to have meaning.
On its hands appeared two strange forms. They resembled weapons, but they were not truly. They were containers, compromises imposed on the inconceivable. What manifested there could not exist bare — not even in the non-place — without causing immediate collapse. So Resonance forced this thing to take form, not to attack, but to contain what would follow.
Sakolomeh stared at it.
There was no anger on what served as its face. But something approached it. A tension without emotion, a hostility devoid of hate. Resonance did not combat him out of rejection. It did so out of functional necessity.
It was going to correct.
The "weapons" deployed.
And immediately, the non-place screamed — without sound, without duration, without witness.
Resonance struck.
It was neither an impact, nor a discharge, nor a wave.
It was a rewriting.
Everything in Sakolomeh that was not compatible was designated.
Everything that was not definable was targeted.
Everything that escaped nature was forced to receive one.
Around Sakolomeh, something tried to install itself.
A structure.
An identity.
A limit.
Layers of reality appeared brutally, as if existence itself tried to wrap around him. Time was born in fragments, seeking an anchor point. Space tried to locate him. Causality tried to assign him to a sequence of events.
Each attempt lasted less than an instant.
They died immediately.
Forms surged — possible versions of Sakolomeh, hypothetical states, provisional natures — and collapsed immediately, unable to maintain themselves. Some dissolved into pure contradictions. Others exploded into dead concepts, leaving behind residues of being that had never had the right to exist.
The non-place filled with remnants of aborted realities.
Resonance insisted.
It tried to destroy Sakolomeh as negation, then reconstruct him as thing. It tried to erase him as anomaly, then reintroduce him as part. It tried to make him an inside.
But there was nothing to remodel.
Every rewriting slipped.
Every correction fell into the void.
Every attempt at nature clashed with the very absence of support.
Sakolomeh did not scream, did not defend himself but he existed and that was precisely the problem.
Resonance slowed.
Not from fatigue.
Not from fear.
But because, for the first time since its advent, a fundamental operation had just failed without leaving an exploitable trace.
Sakolomeh slightly raised his head.
— You can redo everything, he said calmly.
— But I am not something you failed.
— I am what appears when your All is no longer enough.
Absolute Resonance fixed Sakolomeh.
And, for the first time since its manifestation, what traversed it was neither a correction, nor an attempt, but a suspension.
What had just occurred had no precedent.
There existed no protocol to respond to it.
Whether an absolute possibility — like the entities of the Dream —
an absolute impossibility — like the Anarchétypes of the Chôrion —
or even that which escaped that distinction — like the Exentities —
nothing, ever, had been able to subtract itself from the operation it had just executed.
There was no known escape.
And yet, Sakolomeh was still there.
Or rather: he was there without being reachable.
To confront him was to try to lacerate the void with a blade.
Not because the void resisted,
but because there was nothing to slash.
No surface.
No structure.
No purchase.
It was as if Sakolomeh did not occupy the space of existence,
but stood in its fundamental blind spot.
On the other side, Sakolomeh understood in turn.
Absolute Resonance was neither malignant, nor tyrannical.
It was not a monster.
It was a principle in motion.
The direct expression of the Métaworld.
A rule, a code, a logical necessity.
It felt nothing.
It judged nothing.
It hated nothing.
If it deprived other entities of their autonomy, it was neither out of cruelty nor desire for domination. It was to prevent the propagation of the anomaly. To maintain the coherence of the All. To ensure that what exists remains compatible with the whole.
It needed no consent.
A rule does not ask permission.
And Sakolomeh was precisely what it had to eliminate, not because he was evil, but because he fit into no frame.
Then Sakolomeh understood the error.
He could not destroy it.
He must not defeat it.
Absolute Resonance was not an enemy.
It was indispensable to the Métaworld.
To destroy it would condemn the All to collapse.
And it itself, by definition, could not be truly defeated.
What he had to do was neither a conquest, nor an annihilation.
It was a demonstration.
To make it understand — not through words, not through thought —
but through a deeper necessity
that the anomaly he incarnated was not a system flaw.
But a condition of its completeness.
For an All without outside can only be total
if it also contains that which cannot be contained.
It was not about integrating Sakolomeh.
Nor framing him.
Nor correcting him.
But accepting that the Métaworld, to be truly absolute,
must tolerate within itself the breath of that which escapes all capture.
Not as a part.
Not as an exception.
But as the living proof
that even the All never fully closes upon itself.