The feeling of déjà vu was an irritating buzz in Indra's mind, like a persistent mosquito he couldn't locate. The more he focused on the phrase—"The Administrator was right"—the more he felt it wasn't an exact repetition, but a deep connection, a distorted echo of something fundamental.
Frustrated, he turned on his smartwatch. The holoprojector emitted a soft hum, and a bluish display materialized above his wrist. His fingers slid over the floating interface, quickly navigating to the photos he had taken in the underground chamber. And then, he found it.
The image of the black stone monolith, with its angular, somber runes, filled the projection. And there it was, Salazar's final message:
"The Sage was wrong. The Pillars knew the truth. The Mages recoiled in their insignificance. And the Immortals ascended to godhood."
Indra didn't know the exact link between the Administrator and Salazar's message, but a visceral certainty clouded his being: they were intrinsically connected. This was the missing piece, the key to the monstrous puzzle they had begun to assemble.
He stood up abruptly from the chair and sat next to Sophie on the obsidian sofa. She raised an eyebrow, her heterochromatic eyes showing mild confusion, but when Indra expanded the holographic screen and pointed to the message, her expression instantly became serious and focused.
"Indra, this..." — she began, her voice a whisper.
He interrupted her.
"It's the message Salazar left. On the monolith. I didn't understand it all, but... 'The Pillars knew the truth.' That has to refer to the Nine Pillars of the Esoteric Society, right? They command everything. Salazar must be saying the Pillars always knew about the 'darkness' at the top of the Ivory Tower and coveted it."
Sophie was silent for a moment, absorbing the information. Then, an expression of grim understanding dawned on her face. She placed her right hand on her chin, her slender fingers tapping lightly on her pale skin as she pondered.
"The Sage..." — she murmured, almost to herself. "Yes. It almost certainly refers to the Administrator of the SCP Foundation from that era. Historical records describe him as a man of unparalleled intellect, the Society's chief strategist. He was vehemently opposed to the existence of any powerful secret in the Ivory Tower, arguing it was merely a spiritual monument. 'The Sage was wrong'—Salazar is confirming that the Administrator, in his brilliance, was terribly mistaken."
She paused, her eyes scanning the next line.
"And 'The Pillars knew the truth'... yes, I fully agree. They always knew. And that's probably why they suppressed the Administrator's writings about the Realm Rulers. It was convenient for their plans."
Her gaze fell on the next line, and a slight frown appeared on her forehead.
"'The Mages recoiled in their insignificance.' That must refer to the Seven Mage Kings. They were the greatest magical architects of the Society and key players in the fight against the Four Immortals."
Indra leaned forward.
"What happened to them? After the battle?"
Sophie sighed.
"They... isolated themselves. All of them. In a short time after the failed coup, each of the Seven Mage Kings withdrew from public life, shutting themselves in their domains or disappearing completely. The Society officially says it was due to the trauma of the war, but..." — She looked at the message. "...now it makes sense. If Czech Tzigane went to Salazar, it's very likely another Immortal—or Tzigane himself—visited each of the Mage Kings and revealed the truth. The discovery that they had fought for the wrong side, that they were defending a colossal lie... it would have broken them. Made them recoil, confronted with their own 'insignificance' in the face of the cover-up's magnitude."
She shook her head, a gesture of sad resignation.
"As for the last part... 'And the Immortals ascended to godhood.'... that one I don't understand. The Four Immortals were powerful, yes, but deities? It's a big leap, even for them."
Indra was silent for a moment, processing.
"I think, for now, maybe we don't need to understand everything. We know enough to know we're in extremely dangerous waters. Why did the Administrator want to tell the truth? Where did the Immortals go? Those are questions we can't answer now."
Sophie agreed with a vigorous nod.
"Exactly. Making the Esoteric Society our enemy is a death sentence. We... we just move forward. We live our lives. We stay quiet." — There was a trace of genuine fear in her voice, a vulnerability she rarely allowed to show.
As if to emphasize the change of subject, she stood up and went to a cabinet set into the obsidian wall. From inside, she took out an elegantly shaped wine bottle, made of a crystal so dark it seemed to absorb light. The liquid inside was a deep, vibrant purple. She picked up two crystal glasses of the finest thinness and returned to the table, sitting in the chair opposite Indra.
She pushed a glass toward him.
"Do you drink?"
Indra looked at the glass, then at her.
"You change the subject very quickly."
Sophie laughed, a lighter sound now, pushing back the shadow of conspiracy.
"That's how you survive on the Other Side, Indra. You learn to swallow the heavy truths and move on. After all you've been through, you should know that."
He gave a low laugh and picked up the glass.
"True. And yes, I drink. On special occasions. And considering everything... this certainly qualifies."
A satisfied smile lit up Sophie's face. She uncorked the bottle with a soft pop.
"Do you know what kind of drink this is?"
Indra sniffed the complex aroma emanating from the bottle—dark fruits, a hint of wet earth, and something metallic and exotic.
"No idea. But I imagine it's one of those super expensive wines only rich people can buy."
"Almost." — she said, pouring the dark purple liquid into his glass.
"It's called Domaine de la Château Sauvignon Chardonnay Pinot Noir. A pretentious name for a unique product." — She poured herself a glass.
"Paranormals, especially higher-level ones, don't get intoxicated by alcohol from the Mortal Plane. Our metabolism burns it all too fast."
She raised her glass, watching the light refract in the dense liquid.
"This... isn't exactly wine. It's an alchemical blend. The base is the blood of a creature from the Other Side called a Violet Amphibian, a Diabolic creature. Its blood is poisonous, but that poison has unique psychoactive properties—effects very similar to drunkenness, but which can affect even a Transcendent."
Indra looked at the glass with new respect—and a bit of apprehension.
"The Valois Clan." —Sophie continued, "with their Divine Power, purifies the blood, removing its lethal toxicity but keeping its 'recreational' properties. Then, the Nefertari Clan, with their talent for enchantments and trade, infuses the liquid with flavor and aroma spells, turning it into this." — She gestured with her glass.
"They sell this for an absolute fortune across all Realms. It's the only drink that can truly make us... relax."
Indra listened, fascinated.
"I never stopped to think about that. You... have an incredible way of explaining things, Sophie. It's like you've done it a thousand times."
She took a sip of her wine, and a slight flush was already beginning to rise on her pale cheeks.
"Well, being a Captain of the Tenth Legion, explaining things to frightened recruits and confused newcomers is part of the job. Some of them come directly from the Mortal Plane, like you." — She looked at him over her glass.
"I got some time off to train you. After the Paranormal Exam, I return to my legion. And, hopefully, by then I will have been promoted."
Indra grew thoughtful.
"You move up in rank in the Twelve Legions based on your level, right? So... does that mean you're about to become a Sovereign?"
Sophie seemed genuinely surprised. She lowered her glass.
"Indra... you really haven't noticed?"
"Noticed what?" — he asked, confused.
"You've never used your Energy Sense on me, have you?" — she asked, her voice laden with sudden curiosity.
"Why would I?" — he replied, perplexed. "It would be rude. And... unnecessary?"
She smiled, a patient, almost maternal gesture.
"Indra, Energy Sense isn't just for detecting threats. It's a tool of perception. If you concentrate your Qi in your eyes while activating it, you can see. You can see someone's energy flow, their Magic Veins... and their Inner Core. It's the most basic way to assess another person's—or a creature's—level."
Indra was dumbfounded. He didn't know that. No one had taught him that application.
"Do it now." — Sophie instructed softly. "Look at me. And see."
Indra nodded, his curiosity overcoming any embarrassment. He closed his eyes for a second, activating the Silent Heart of Inner Vortex. He directed a flow of Qi to his eyes, feeling a slight pressure behind them. Then, he opened his eyes.
The world gained a new layer. He still saw Sophie, beautiful and serene, holding her glass of wine. But overlaid on her physical form, he saw a circulatory system of dark blue light—her Magic Veins—pulsing with a vast, tranquil power. And in the center of her chest, shining like a beacon, was her Inner Core.
It was a sphere of pure, dense energy, radiating an authority that made the air vibrate. It was unquestionably the core of a Supreme... but it wasn't perfect. On its surface, fine, deep cracks, like veins of lightning frozen in solid energy, marred its surface. It didn't look destructively damaged, but... incomplete. Like a precious vase that had been broken and mended with gold, its flaws making it unique, but no less powerful.
"Sophie..." — he whispered, his enhanced vision fading as he blinked. "Your core... it's cracked. Is that... dangerous?"
She laughed, a genuine, carefree sound.
"No, silly. It's perfectly normal. Well, 'normal' for those on the threshold. We call it the 'Pseudo State.' It happens when a Paranormal is about to advance to the next level but can't completely reform the core all at once. The energy is so vast that the existing core cracks under the pressure before solidifying into its new form." — She took another sip of wine. "I am a high-level Supreme. I tried to break through the barrier to become a Sovereign. I almost made it, but not quite. So, now, I am a Pseudo-Sovereign."
The explanation was so clear, so perfectly delivered, that Indra could only shake his head in admiration.
"You're amazing at explaining things, you know that?"
He then smiled, a glimpse of ambition shining in his eyes.
"That's good. It means you'll soon be a true Sovereign. And who knows... maybe one day I'll get there too. It'll be hard, but... I hope to one day become as incredible as you."
The words were out before he could think better of them, laden with genuine admiration.
The effect was instantaneous. A deep blush colored Sophie's pale cheeks, a vibrant contrast against her porcelain skin. Whether it was the wine or his words was impossible to tell.
"Indra..." — she murmured, looking away for a second before meeting his gaze again.
"You flatter me too much."
He kept his smile, his heart beating a little faster.
"It's just the truth. You deserve all the praise."
The air between them changed. The light, instructive atmosphere evaporated, replaced by a thick, charged tension. The silent mansion seemed to hold its breath. The flush on Sophie's face deepened. She placed her wine glass on the table with a soft clink, her heterochromatic eyes—a stormy ocean and a tranquil forest—fixing on his with an overwhelming intensity.
And then, with a voice that was little more than a hoarse whisper, laden with raw vulnerability and drunken courage, she asked the question that hung in the air between them, heavy and inevitable:
"What do you think of me?"