There was nothing new to the way the boy grinned smugly with overgrown pride.

"Too easy again," he said flashing a large, insolent smile.

Actually for Qilby very little was ever new. That tended to happen when you had an absolute memory spanning every one of your numerous lives. And the self-satisfied way Yugo behaved each time he completed one of the difficult challenges Qilby sent his way was definitely nothing new.

"That's funny, the others made it look like it was difficult."

Qilby sighed, but it was not from exasperation. After being exposed to Yugo's constant smugness for thousands of years, he had developed a form of immunity to it.

That was the first reason why Qilby would always be the one in charge of educating the young hot head into the mastery of Wakfu. He never lost patience, never got angry, never let anything Yugo did or said unnerve him the slightest bit.

Qilby knew the boy was not to blame for his arrogance. The Eliatropes had different origins, between those born from two Eliatrope parents, those born from a Dofus who had a dragon sibling, and the six immortal First-borns who were always in charge by divine right alone. Because of that segregation, displays of bigotry within the Eliatrope society were common.

Being at the very top of the social ladder, and lacking the wisdom to see how wrong it was to consider people based on birth right alone, Yugo's way of thinking was no exception to the system. On the other hand, Qilby had seen enough to know that everyone was worth the same, and treat everyone with equal respect.

And to top it off, Yugo was convinced he was the best of the First-borns.

The boy would often use his exceptional powers to design pranks that were funny only to himself. Sometimes he pulled on the ambient Wakfu so violently that everyone around him suddenly felt disorientated and queasy.

"You shouldn't be doing that, it's mean to others," Qilby always sermonised him.

Yugo just shrugged in response, showing clearly that he didn't care much about what 'the others' thought.

The First-borns and especially their King Chibi were always bewildered to witness Yugo's attitude. "Are you absolutely certain he behaved the same way last time you raised him?" Chibi often asked.

That made Qilby laugh. "Are you really questioning my memory?"

"Of course not, I'm aware that you know better, but...it really doesn't match what I thought I knew of him. In my own memories of him, Yugo was much more considerate in his previous life. The difference is so obvious, to me the only possible explanation is that there was some sort of anomaly before his Dofus hatched."

Qilby smiled at Chibi's confused expression, amused by his failed attempt to find a logical reason. A primordial Eliatrope Dofus, the product of a godly intervention no less, couldn't turn bad just like some rotten egg. "I understand what you mean, my friend. But you can believe me when I say this Yugo is exactly like the Yugo I've known for so long. Unearned power, overgrown pride and childish immaturity do that to one's character."

Unless some lethal accident occurred, the First-borns could see the childhood of their brothers and sisters only once. Only Qilby knew that everyone was always just the same. He was the only one of them who made every mistake only once, while the others and especially Yugo repeated them over and over, life after life.

Because of his attitude, Yugo hardly ever had any friends. Considering everyone else to be inferior had that kind of effect on friendship. Yugo would always act flippantly about it, saying that it wasn't important, that the other Eliatrope kids didn't matter anyway. But Qilby knew that deep inside, the boy was suffering greatly from loneliness.

At least Yugo was lucky to have Adamaï. His dragon brother was one of the very few to stand Yugo's attitude, and all in all the only person of his own age that he could really talk to.

There was nothing new to the way the boy mastered everything at an alarming pace.

Yugo was the most powerful of the First-borns, who were already the most powerful of their people. He had an incredibly strong connection with Wakfu that his peers could only envy.

That was the second reason why Qilby took charge of his education. He had enough knowledge―all the knowledge, in fact―needed to keep up with Yugo's constant thirst for new challenges. If Glip had taken care of educating Yugo within a group of much less gifted Eliatropes, the results would have been catastrophic. Even though it ostracised Yugo even more, Qilby's mentoring was the only way to have the boy reach his full potential.

"How come you're able to teach me about my own powers, if I'm the only one good enough to actually use them? How do you know about powers you can't even use?" Yugo asked bluntly.

Qilby always winced at the way the boy seemed to evaluate people's worth from their ability at magic alone. But he didn't correct him, for he knew it was useless anyway.

"Because you told me everything you know about your own powers," Qilby explained. "And every now and then, you'll discover something new and explain it to me, so I can teach it to your future self. Now, focus and try again. You're nearly there."

Yugo nodded and closed his eyes, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. They stood on top of a rocky peak barely wide enough for both of them, in the middle of the barren desert. It was the only place safe enough for what they were doing.

Books were fragile. Runes could weather out. Qilby was eternal, in every sense of the word. That created a unique bond between them, where Yugo had the power, Qilby had the knowledge, and both were useless without the other. Qilby was fully aware of that, but he knew Yugo wouldn't realise how important it was until he grew much older.

The boy didn't create any portals for once. He extended his palms forward, and suddenly a bluish ray of light tore through the empty sky with a thundering sound that echoed upon the surrounding mountains for several long seconds.

Clearly Yugo wasn't going to realise anything important at that moment, his face a pure expression of joy and awe. "Wow," he whispered, grinning from ear to ear.

"You'll be kind enough to never use this one as a prank," Qilby warned with a wink.

There was nothing new to the way the boy cast longing glances out of the windows.

Outside was a whole world of adventure, discovery, and trouble Yugo could get into. That was so much more interesting than the lessons he was forced to study. Qilby was keeping an eye on the boy above his tiny spectacles, and even though he kept his face straight, inside he was smiling.

Yugo had qualities to balance his flaws, fortunately. One of them was that he was never apathetic, always hungry for new experiences, dangerous ones if possible. That also meant he was unable to sit down for more than a few minutes without growing twitchy, and that was the thing Qilby always found amusing.

Patience was a virtue, but Qilby had given up instilling it into the boy long ago.

"Yugo."

The boy's attention immediately snapped back to reality. He quickly looked at Qilby, then down onto his Eliatrope History lesson. His experience of life couldn't even begin to compare with Qilby's, but Yugo already knew that arguing with his mentor about the necessity of studies was a huge mistake.

Qilby was pretty sure he knew what was going on under that soft blue hat and that thick mop of blonde hair. There was a lot of lingering doubts and nagging insecurities swirling in the boy's head. After all, most of their collective history involved the First-borns' deeds. So when Yugo read about everything he had accomplished in his previous existences, obviously he was worried over his current one.

Would he be up to the legend? Would he be good enough? Even if Yugo was no match for any other Eliatrope, he still had his former self to compare to.

Qilby sighed. That was a huge lot of responsibility resting on such little shoulders. But then, all of the first-borns were in the same boat. Except Qilby. He was the only one to remember there was nothing to be afraid of, that doing his best would always be enough.

"Yugo."

Once again the boy detached his gaze from the landscape outside, back to his history book.

There was nothing new to the way the boy was unusually silent and thoughtful when he had some prying question on his mind. Qilby always knew such questions were inbound when Yugo behaved that way for too long.

"Qilby...can I ask you something?"

The mentor grinned at his apprentice. What a surprise. "You may," he answered with his tone a bit too solemn to be entirely serious.

"Why don't you have kids?" the boy asked bluntly.

That made Qilby pause for a moment. "I have you", he answered kindly. "And believe me when I say you're more than enough to keep me busy."

Yugo wrinkled his nose, obviously unsatisfied with the answer. "Yes, but, I mean...why don't you have your own kids?"

Qilby stared at Yugo's puzzled expression for a while, and into his innocent eyes. He wasn't sure that understanding the answer was within the boy's grasp, but Yugo wouldn't let go of him so easily if he just brushed the question away.

"Well, I did have my own children, a long time ago, but..." Qilby sighed as he tried to find the right words. "Let's see Yugo. According to you, what's the main difference between the First-borns and the other Eliatropes?"

"We're more powerful?" Yugo answered eagerly. That made Qilby smile. Obviously the boy would see things that way.

"No, Yugo. When normal people die, unlike us, they never come back."

The boy stayed silent for a while, thinking it through. "I don't understand," he finally said. "What does it have to do with your kids?"

"What's the most painful thing you ever felt?"

"Hey, I asked my question first. It's not fair if you keep asking more instead of answering me," Yugo said with a pout.

"Just answer," Qilby retorted patiently.

Yugo thought it through, and Qilby figured the boy was trying to weigh out the different occasions when he hurt himself and pick the worse one.

"I guess it's when I broke my arm last year. You remember? When my elbow kinda bent backwards. That hurt a lot."

"Hmm, I can imagine that. Now make it a hundred times worse, from a wound that will never heal and keep hurting for your whole life, and maybe you'll get close to what it feels to lose a child."

Yugo stared at him open-mouthed. "Oh, I...I'm sorry Qilby, I didn't mean to―"

"There's never anything wrong with being curious," Qilby cut in. That was something he repeated often. "You wanted to know, and now you know."

Yugo nodded. "So you're telling me you don't want to have kids because it hurts too much when they die?"

"Exactly."

"But then it doesn't make sense...all the other First-borns, we've had kids in pretty much all our previous lives, right?"

"Of course you did. That's where our people comes from after all."

"Yeah but, why do we keep having kids if we know it's going to hurt that much when they die?"

"Because you have no idea. You can't know until you lived through that. Most of the time you'll die before your children, and you'll just forget about them. Or more rarely, they'll pass away first, and then you'll get to know how it feels, only to forget it after your own death. I'm the only one who remembers how it feels. I never forgot. And I can't bear to live with that pain ever again."

Yugo stared at him silently for a long while, looking uneasy. "I'm sorry. I had no idea," he said softly.

"It's all right", Qilby reassured him. "It was a long, long time ago. The pain is gone by now. I just don't want to experience it again. Even though raising my children was a lot of joy at first, I discovered it wasn't worth it in the end."

"But you just told me I was like your own kid. So when I die, is it any different?"

Qilby smiled and put his hand on the boy's shoulder, in a much more fatherly gesture than he intended. "Of course it is. When you die, you always come back."

There was nothing new to the way the boy paced tirelessly around the room, his hands in his pockets, casting sideways glances at Qilby to see if his mentor was getting annoyed already.

It was raining outside, and when Yugo was stuck indoors, he would always try to make everyone around him just as miserable as he was.

"I'm bored", the boy said.

Qilby looked up from his work. "You can't be," he retorted calmly. "There's so much for you to learn, so much to discover. Just imagine for a second how it would be for me if I got bored as quickly as you do. I've been around for thousands of years and I'm barely starting to get bored, so after only twelve years of your fresh new existence, you're definitely not."

Qilby didn't suggest him to grab a book or draw something, as he knew it wasn't the issue. He knew the only thing Yugo wanted at that moment was to feel the rush of adrenaline in his blood and hear the furious sound of the wind blowing in his ears.

Just like some wild animal, Yugo wasn't meant to live indoors.

"But there's nothing to do here," he insisted.

"We both know that's not the problem," Qilby answered patiently. "There's plenty to do. You just want to go roam outside with Adamaï, but with that downpour it's impossible. You'll catch a cold. Why do you seem to blame this on me? Am I responsible of the weather somehow?"

"You could try meditating for once," Adamaï chimed in. "That would do you a great deal of good." The little dragon was sitting cross-legged on the floor. He had been meditating until his brother's constant whining and pacing definitely broke his concentration.

"Meditation sucks," Yugo retorted with a pout.

"At the very least that would make you shut up," Adamaï hissed angrily.

Qilby had a weary little smile, because he knew perfectly well that no matter what they said, it wouldn't change anything. Yugo stood there silently, wrinkling his nose, obviously trying to figure out a new angle of approach. Millennia of experience about living with Qilby would have taught him it was useless to insist, but sadly for the bespectacled man, Yugo didn't remember how many times he had inflicted that childish behaviour to his mentor. And even if he did, Qilby wasn't sure the boy would have felt sorry about it.

"What are you working on anyway?" Yugo asked.

Qilby stared back at him silently. There was no way he would be able to concentrate on his work now Yugo was in this mood to annoy him the best he could. He sighed. "Come have a look," he proposed.

Yugo walked around the table to stand beside his mentor. He looked at the complicated blueprint Qilby was patiently drawing.

"What is it?" he asked.

"A ship," Qilby replied.

"A ship...to go on the water?"

Qilby looked at the boy, enjoying his puzzled expression.

"No, Yugo...a ship to go to the stars."

There was nothing new in the way the boy stared in awe as they visited the Temple.

Qilby knew there was very little that could impress Yugo. It wasn't about the building itself, which grand architecture would have been humbling for anyone else. Yugo didn't care about that sort of things.

The boy's attention was entirely focused on the mural paintings that narrated the Eliatropes' history. And Yugo was especially interested in the depictions of all the legendary quests his former self underwent, and all the vicious creatures he vanquished.

Every now and then the boy would point at something and ask excitedly "Did I really beat this one?" or "It's so huge! What power did I use?". And Qilby would patiently answer every question. He remembered about each of these occasions with great detail, like everything else.

Qilby was actually enjoying himself. Yugo's enthusiasm was contagious.

He also remembered when Yugo and Adamaï didn't make it back. There was no use to talk about that. These occasions were not painted on the Temple's walls, but Yugo already knew that sometimes adventure ended up in tears.

They proceeded to the crypt, which was special in the way it didn't contain any remains, as the First-borns never left any after their demise. Instead, it was filled with objects accumulated over the course of their numerous lives.

Qilby had stored old books, parchments, diagrams that were now obsolete but still had an affective value to him. In a way, it was the summary of himself. There was also paintings and sculptures made by Nora. Inventions from Chibi. School books for children written by Glip. And old scrolls of ancient laws Mina had conceived long ago.

Yugo never put anything in the crypt at all. It was indicative of the way he didn't care about material things. If adventure and thrill could be put into bottles, Yugo would have filled the whole space with thousands of them. The only thing that indicated it was also his place were the numerous light blue, glowing Wakfu crystals fused to the walls and the curved ceiling.

"One crystal for each of my lives, right?" the boy asked.

"Yes indeed," Qilby confirmed.

There was hundreds of them, illuminating the crypt with their soft blue light. "Wow," the boy whispered as he turned around, trying to realise how many lives that could represent. "Where do they come from?" he asked.

"There's a cave in the mountains, in the far north. It's the only place where you can find them."

Yugo looked up at his mentor with a surprised expression. "What, that's all? No nasty monsters or something? It's going to be a piece of cake!"

Qilby smiled knowingly. Yugo couldn't have been further from the truth. The wildlife was not an issue; nothing could survive there. The hostile environment was already an opponent in itself. Yugo had to undertake that trial and bring back a crystal once in every of his lives. It would mark the moment where the boy would no longer be a boy.

And Qilby knew the moment was getting near.

There was nothing new to the way the boy 'played' with his brother.

Qilby sat in the garden of their house, under the fresh shadow of a tree. In the background he could hear the sounds of the twins 'game', sometimes loud enough to make the ground shake.

Like every brothers, Yugo and Adamaï's favourite game was to challenge each other into a fight. And since they both had exceptional powers and never missed an occasion to use them, it always took terrifying proportions.

Shinonome arrived in her human form. Well, as close to a human as she could be, except for her bright purple skin. She sat down next to her brother, frowning as she looked at the fireworks of Wakfu explosions and bright orange flames in the distance.

"These two will never change, will they?"

Qilby smiled at her. "You know that as well as I do."

"You're never afraid they might get hurt?"

He shrugged. "It'll never change anything to tell them they should take care, so what's the point," he said lightly. "Besides, they never actually managed to kill each other. Yet."

Shinonome looked at her brother closely. "Already worried about the day when Yugo will leave again?"

Qilby sighed. "It's never easy...but he'll be back. How's it going with Adamaï?" he asked quickly, trying to switch subjects.

"Easily, like always. He's the exact opposite of his brother, calm, patient and level-headed. But just as intelligent, eager and gifted, so it's really a breeze to teach him about how to become a true Dragon."

"Hmm. Sometimes I come to think that you're lucky to have picked the easiest one of the two."

They both smiled. Shinonome knew her brother didn't think a word of it. She knew he loved Yugo, even with all his flaws. And that was exactly why their parting was always a painful moment.

The twins suddenly crashed into the garden, leaving a deep trench in the grass behind them. Yugo got back to his feet immediately and grinned like nothing had happened. He was drenched with sweat and out of breath.

"Time for a break?" Qilby proposed.

Before Yugo could answer, Adamaï jumped at him. He tackled his brother by the waist, pinning him to the ground. "No one takes a break as long as both of us are still standing!" the little dragon shouted.

"Those kids," Shinonome whispered, shaking her head in amused disbelief.

There was nothing new to the way the boy looked at his mentor before asking him the question that had been on his mind for days.

"Do you think I'm ready yet?"

They were sitting outside after a long day of training, looking at the sunset. It was the time Yugo usually chose to ask about important things. Or at least, things that seemed important to him.

Qilby looked at the boy, meeting his expectant gaze. As much as he would have liked to keep him under his wing for a bit longer, it was not the right thing to do. Each time Yugo moved on to live his own life, Qilby would feel depressed over it, and each time he came back, Qilby would also feel depressed knowing it was only for a few years. But it was worth it, for all the time in between was always a joy. Despite all his flaws, it was impossible not to get fond of Yugo's overflowing enthusiasm.

"This isn't something I can tell", Qilby finally answered. "You're the only one who can decide. But there's nothing more I can teach you. You already know everything you can possibly learn from me. So now it's only a question of making up your mind."

Yugo nodded silently. Qilby really had no useful advice to give on the matter, but every time it was exactly the same. Yugo would ask the same question, Qilby would give the same answer, then he would see into the boy's eyes the exact moment where his doubts changed into determination.

There was nothing new to the way the boy sat in front of the fireplace with a warm blanket on the shoulders, his expression sullen, his gaze unfocused.

He hadn't said a word since his return. But Qilby was far from being surprised by this attitude, for it was just like everything else about Yugo: nothing new. Adamaï was there too, continuously casting concerned glances at his mute brother. The only sound in the room came from the dry wood crackling in the hearth.

Qilby sat next to the twins. He didn't say a word either, silently sipping on his tea, as he knew it was useless to say anything. Yugo wouldn't speak until he wanted to.

"I failed," the boy finally said, his eyes still aimed vaguely at the fire. "I reached the cave, but there was Stasis deposits all over the place. I could feel it draining my Wakfu, and I knew it would kill me quickly if I insisted. I tried several times but I couldn't go very far. I turned back while I still could. I didn't get the crystal."

He looked up at Qilby warily, as if he expected his mentor to get angry after he confessed in such a pitiful way. But instead, Qilby just smiled back at him. "I can see that," he said simply.

Yugo seemed baffled by that lack of heated reaction. "But...what am I going to do? What can I tell to the others?" The boy's cheeks blushed in shame, and Qilby knew he was already anticipating the moment when everyone else would realise that he was not as infallible as he was supposed to be.

Qilby didn't say anything. Instead, he reached inside his pocket, then he held out his hand at Yugo. Inside his palm, there was a glowing Wakfu crystal. The boy looked at the crystal, then back at Qilby, with the most puzzled expression he ever had.

"But...what? How?"

"Bringing back anything from that cave was never the point of your trial," Qilby explained. "It's about making you realise that sometimes, staying alive is more important than being successful. That sometimes the right thing to do, is to give up."

Yugo let the words sink in for a moment. Then he stood up abruptly and turned towards Qilby with anger etched on his face.

"And you knew it!" he blurted out. "You knew I wouldn't succeed and I'd risk my life trying! Yet you let me go there anyway! Why?"

There was nothing new to the way he looked betrayed. Qilby sighed.

"Because you made me promise, Yugo. Long ago, a very very long time ago. At that time you thought you were invincible, that nothing could resist you and your powers. And one day, it didn't go like you expected, and Adamaï had to sacrifice himself to save you. Your arrogance cost your brother his life."

Adamaï met Qilby's gaze, but he said nothing.

"After that, you were broken," Qilby continued. "Your life was pointless. So before you joined your brother in death to start again, you made me promise that in every of your future lives I would make sure you went through that trial you designed for yourself."

"But...I could've died there!" the boy pointed out angrily.

"You never did. When we discussed it with your former self, I had the same objection. But you decided it was a necessary risk. You said that if you weren't able to recognize a situation where giving up is the only solution, you would keep being reckless. You didn't want anyone to die for you ever again."

Qilby stood up. He took hold of Yugo's arm and gently put the crystal in the boy's hand.

"Either you knew yourself very well," the mentor continued, "or you've been very lucky so far. Anyway, you always made it back. And every time, it has been more efficient at curing your arrogance than anything I could ever tell you."

Qilby gave Yugo an encouraging pat on the shoulder before turning away, leaving him the necessary time to deal with his thoughts.

Later that night, there was a knock at Qilby's door. The man wasn't surprised. It was entirely expected.

"Come in," he said.

Qilby shifted his gaze from the latest plans of the Zinit, onto Yugo's face lit by the candlelight. The boy was visibly tired, with dark shadows under his eyes.

"I'm not bothering you?" Yugo asked awkwardly.

"You never do."

The boy shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "You're not telling me to go back to bed?" he asked with a small smirk.

"I no longer have the authority to do that. You're supposed to be responsible now. So, what's on your mind?"

Yugo hesitated. "I...well, I wanted to apologize. For yelling at you earlier tonight, and...other things. Now I understand that the point of it was to make me a better person. And also, I realise you've always been very patient with me. I owe you everything I know, everything I am, and in return I was...well, not grateful enough. So...yeah. I wanted you to know that I'm sorry for my behaviour, and I really appreciate everything you did for me."

The boy looked awkward, obviously anxious to see how Qilby would react.

But Qilby just smiled back at him. "That's very kind of you, but do you really think it's the first time you ever told me that?"

"I...huh?" the boy stammered, puzzled. "I suppose I'd remember if I did."

"Well, obviously you don't. But I do remember."

"Oh." Yugo's face lit up with understanding. "You mean it already happened just the same in the past? And I told you the same thing?"

"Yes. Every single time," Qilby confirmed. "You never wondered why I was the only one who could tolerate that you behaved like an arrogant little brat all the time?"

"Well, I..." Yugo paused and looked at his feet, blushing. Qilby knew it was because the boy suddenly realised how indeed he had spent most of his short life being an insufferable show-off. "Yeah, I wasn't really nice to the others, I guess."

"And I knew that nothing I said would make you change. I knew that going through your own reality check would take care of that. Now you've experienced failure for the first time, you know you're not perfect, just like anyone else. And that will make you a much more compassionate person from now on."

Yugo nodded, understanding what Qilby meant. He grinned at his mentor. "Thank you, Qilby. For everything."

"No, thank you. Without you, my life would only be a boring routine. Even though you never surprise me, watching you grow up is always a pleasure. Please, come here."

Yugo approached, and Qilby took the boy in his arms, hugging him tightly. He was well aware it was likely their last moment together. On the next day, Yugo would leave to live his own life, full of adventure. But it would happen all over again. Even though it would take decades and they both had to die before that, it would happen again.

It was never truly the end of it.

Time passed. A lot of time.

Qilby didn't take notice of how everything progressively faded out. The joys, the pains, he had felt them so many times that it didn't affect him at all any more. Kid Yugo moved in, teen Yugo moved out to live his own life, following an endless cycle that never changed.

There were times of prosperity, there were times of starvation, times of peace, times of war, but in the grand scheme of things it didn't matter. Qilby had experienced everything already. His world became a prison, then a cage, and began to look like a coffin.

More time passed.

He wished he could just forget.

The life of the other Eliatropes no longer interested him. They had the chance of experiencing the same joys over and over without losing the novelty, but Qilby didn't envy them. They were ants on the surface of a marble, lacking the mind to recognize their own absurdity. He knew better. He tried to convince them. But they were scared by the change and novelty he wanted to provide them with. They were just like little children, afraid and ignorant. Without purpose. Useless. More and more they felt like a distraction, a faint buzzing that he tuned out to concentrate fully on his objective.

I must get out.

Only Shinonome was truly concerned over him. The others didn't remember, so they thought he was always that grumpy recluse, only interested in his work. Only Shinonome really knew who he was, and what it felt to be blessed with such a curse. But she couldn't do anything about his situation either.

Even more time passed.

One day Chibi came to find him. His majesty himself. What an honour.

"Qilby," he said. "I need to speak with you."

"Then speak," Qilby replied, barely glancing up from his work. He had nothing if not time, but if he stopped for every halfwit who demanded his attention, he'd never get anywhere.

"Yugo and Adamaï have just hatched."

"They do that," he noted. That wasn't new. No, the new thing he needed was a fuel source. Conventional methods were not close to adequate.

"It won't be necessary for you to raise Yugo this time around."

Qilby looked up to meet Chibi's gaze. He knew him as well as he knew all the other First-borns. He knew how he looked when he joked or lied, and how he looked when he was serious. He was serious.

"So be it," Qilby spat. "I haven't enough time to play the nursemaid for that arrogant brat anyway."

Chibi nodded and turned to leave. On his way out, he stopped. "You've changed, Qilby. I may not have your gift of memory, but I've read the histories. I've read books written by your old hand, and the man who shone with such love for life and knowledge is not the man I see before me."

"It's called progress," Qilby sneered. "It is born of ill content."

"Regardless of what it is, it has our people worried. I do not envy your curse, old friend, but perhaps progress can work the other way. Goodbye."

Qilby watched him leave, and his gaze stayed on the door long after it had closed.

He remembered. He remembered watching a boy grow into a man, watching him learn wisdom and compassion. In every incarnation, Yugo was filled with such unbridled ecstasy for life that even though Qilby had long ago gone numb to such feelings, when he was with the boy, he could almost...

But what did he care? It was over now. Yugo would never be back to fill his surroundings with excited yells of joy that always reminded Qilby of what it felt to be truly alive.

Qilby turned back to his work. There was nothing new about the feeling of loss, of being abandoned by his so-called friends. It didn't matter. The solution to his situation was at hand, and even though the cost would be terrible, now there was really nothing left to hold him back.

There was something new to the way the boy looked at him. His expression was steely, but he couldn't control what his eyes told, and Qilby knew him all too well to be mistaken.

"I won't get fooled by your tricks and your lies any more."

Yugo wasn't hateful. Oh, for sure he was angry. After what Qilby had done to their people and especially Adamaï, that was only logical. Yugo had expected Qilby to tell him more about his people, about his powers, about himself, and the only thing Qilby had finally taught him was about how it felt to get betrayed. But hatred just wasn't part of Yugo's nature, no matter the offence.

"And today I understand why I put you in here."

Into Yugo's eyes, Qilby could perfectly see the sadness and the confusion. The boy already regretted what he was about to do. But pleading wouldn't make any difference. After all, Qilby hadn't let their people beg for mercy before he sent them all to their doom.

"No, not this, don't do this to me again Yugo!"

When he had met Yugo in this world and in this life, judging solely from his age, Qilby expected to find in him the same arrogance and egoism he used to witness for so many lives. But something had changed. The way Yugo put his life on the line, not for his own glory but to protect the people he loved, was definitely something new. And Qilby didn't find out why. He never would.

"I have no choice Qilby. You're way too dangerous!"

Memories assaulted him mercilessly. Memories of all the wonderful moments they had spent together. Memories of a time when he actually enjoyed the experiences of life. How did he ever allow himself to forsake these?

How did it go so wrong?

"No! I'm getting crazy here, all alone..."

Qilby couldn't stand to be alone. Millennia spent alone into a tiny world devoid of everything made him realise that even after he stopped enjoying life, being surrounded by people who still did had protected him from falling into desperate apathy. He had tried to get everything at once, the thrill of novelty and the people he needed around him, but he ended up losing both.

Most of all, Qilby fully realised how cruel it was to be condemned to the most unbearable fate he could imagine by the one person who had made his own existence bearable for so long. But then he saw into the boy's eyes the exact moment where his doubts changed into determination, and it felt eerily familiar.

"You're already crazy and alone, Qilby."

His wail for mercy got lost in the void. Yugo was already gone.

And the only thing Qilby had left to keep him company for the eternity was his memories.

A/N Is it his humble childhood and Alibert's education that made Yugo grow up into an example of selflessness and compassion? What kind of a man was Qilby before boredom turned his life into an unbearable routine? When I asked myself those questions I realised that the subject was basically left unexplored. Time, situations, experiences change people. While we sometimes muse about what our life would have been if we were born somewhere else at a different time, for Eliatropes the question gets a lot more practical.

Most of facts are based on the most official version of the lore I could assemble, so this isn't 100% accurate. Some sources are conflicting; for example the game Islands of Wakfu clearly tells that Chibi was the Eliatrope King before the exodus, but it's never mentioned in the show. The blanks were filled with inventions of my own. Hope you didn't mind.

As usual, I'd like to warmly thanks Slavok for his invaluable insight, edits, support, beta-reading, everything.