An abstract trainer who taught Charmander the Incinerate move

Chapter 129 Akromar's Scientific Guidance (Please subscribe and vote with monthly tickets)
Returning from the frenzied stage to the dilapidated factory, Homiga stumbled and crawled to Akromma.

Her once iconic wild, spiky braids hung limply, and she looked like a terrified wild animal drenched in rain, covered in dust and cheap sequins from backstage.

Upon seeing the distraught Homiga, Akromma wore a mocking expression of complete control as he slowly and methodically wiped the delicate instrument in his hand with a clean, soft white cloth.

He turned his head slightly, his glasses reflecting a cold light, and a gentle, yet cruel, curve appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"Hey, isn't this our great rock star, Miss Homiga? Why have you condescended to return to this shady garbage dump? Didn't you already ascend to the world-shaking art hall with that gold-medal producer, Director Mo, who truly deserves your musical talent? Wasn't your sacred voice supposed to drive the whole world crazy? Why are you coming to me again, this useless manager who only knows how to leech off artists?"

When Homiga heard Akromma's words, his body trembled violently, as if he were being whipped by an invisible whip.

She knelt down with a thud, lunged forward as if grasping at a straw, and clung tightly to Akromma's leg, the expensive fabric crumpled into a ball by her stained hands.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Mr. Akromma! I was wrong! I was really wrong! It was my fault, I was stupid! I betrayed you!"

Her voice was hoarse and broken, filled with sobs and a nervous urgency.

“You’re right! Absolutely right! Eugene, let me come back… let me return to that stage… I’ll do anything to get back to that stage! Without that stage, Vadasi…”

As she sobbed and apologized incoherently, her body writhed uncontrollably on the ground like a fish out of water, beginning the desperate and humble traditional confessional ritual of rock musicians—a dark crawl. (The image below shows technical guidance.)
Homiga, like an insect struck by an electric current, convulsed and crawled wildly across the ground around Akromma.

Akroma looked down at the rock queen who had completely collapsed below him, his wicked smile deepening.

He slowly crouched down, extended his white-gloved fingers, gently lifted Homiga's chin, and forced her to look into his cold eyes behind his glasses.

"Are you willing to do anything?"

Akromah's voice was deep and seductive, like the serpent in the Garden of Eden tempting Eve to eat the forbidden fruit.

If the plot were to unfold as expected, the next step would be the much-anticipated minotaur scene, where the entire process would be filmed by the blond-haired Akroma and sent to Mo Zhen, making him experience the bitterness of being the victim with a humiliating expression.

However... Akroma has awakened a very mysterious enlightenment.

As a scientist, he was never interested in women, and after meeting Mo Zhen, he completely gave up on those women.

To him, this foolish white-haired woman was merely another side dish to accompany the real feast.

The first side dish is now being cooked up in his Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and is taking on a stunning shape.

As for the second side dish, he already has a completely new way of cooking it.

"People inevitably make mistakes, just like experiments have errors. More important than not making mistakes at all is correcting them in time and getting back on track..."

"Then tell me, Homiga, is your so-called sacred sound path truly a gift from the [Ideal Dragon]? Compared to that Director Mo, who is truly capable of deeply developing the magic of your sound path?"

Homiga's body stiffened abruptly, a flash of instinctive resistance crossing his eyes, but it was quickly overwhelmed by a deeper fear and a morbid longing.

She remembered the screen full of "β" in Mo Zhen's live stream, the despair of her singing being rejected by millions, and the intoxicated expressions of the audience on the underground concert stage—that feeling of being needed and worshipped was like a poison that she couldn't escape.

She closed her eyes, tears welling up again, her voice trembling with humiliation, yet also revealing a strange excitement.

"I...I admit it...I admit it all..."

"Admit what?"

Akromah's voice was like a devil's whisper, her fingertips intentionally or unintentionally tracing across Homiga's vocal cords, the icy touch sending shivers down Homiga's spine.

"I admit... I admit my rock and roll... can make dreams come true... not because..."

Homiga's voice grew softer and softer, tinged with a sense of shame and immorality.

"Not because of some ideal dragon... but... but because..."

"Because of what?"

Akromah tightened her fingertips slightly, with an undeniable sense of pressure.

"Because of you! Because of your scientific guidance!" The suffocating pressure made Homiga open his eyes abruptly, his voice rising sharply, carrying an almost cathartic scream.

"Oh?"

Akromma raised an eyebrow with interest.

“Go on, tell me the whole truth about your rock success and the mistakes you’ve realized. Let science… hear your confession too.”

Homiga seemed to have a switch flipped, tearing open her most shameful secret and offering herself as a sacrifice to the man who held the password to her vocal cords.

"It was you...it was you who used the power of science...to transform my vocal cords! Under your scientific guidance, my vocal cords were able to produce truly beautiful sounds! Captivating the audience and leaving them mesmerized!"

Her words became increasingly offensive, each one like a knife stabbing into her former beliefs, yet accompanied by a strange sense of pleasure.

"Director Mo... Director Mo doesn't understand at all!"

Homiga's voice was trembling with sobs, yet it was also filled with fawning and longing for Akromma.

"He only talks about empty art... He has no idea how deeply you've developed my vocal cords... and how much...joy you've made me..."

She squeezed out the word "happiness" with difficulty, her words filled with a naked sense of betrayal, belittling Mo Zhen's so-called "temple of art" to nothing, and worshipping Akromma's scientific training as a god.

“I…I was wrong…I shouldn’t have betrayed you…betrayed science…”

She looked up at Akromma with hazy eyes, her gaze almost pleading.

"Please...use science to...guide me again...my vocal cords...they're so empty...only you...only your science...can let me...let me sing the most perfect voice..."

Her language completely surrendered, her guilt towards Mo Zhen overwhelmed by her longing for Akromma's scientific guidance.

At this moment, she is no longer a rock queen, but a traitor who has been completely conquered by science, yearning to be deeply explored by it and to gain morbid satisfaction from it.

She stared at that face and finally saw the smile hidden behind the cold glasses.

Oh, how cruel and unnecessary her previous misunderstandings of science were!
Oh, Homika, how benevolent was Akromma, whom you so desperately wanted to break free from, how magnanimous was his heart, and how stubborn and willful you were!
Now it's all over, the struggle is over.

She has overcome herself; she loves science!

Akroma looked with satisfaction at Homiga, who had completely submitted at his feet.

Every shameful confession she uttered was a resounding slap in the face to Mo Zhen, and the best proof of his Akromar scientific prowess.

She is like a wife who has cheated on her husband and is indulging in forbidden pleasures, accusing him of his incompetence and craving more intense and deeper exploration.

I'm so sorry, Director Mo, I'm really sorry, but... only Mr. Akromma can satisfy me right now! So... I'm sorry!

Akromar grinned devilishly as he leaned down and addressed Homiga, who lay on the ground.

"Very well, since this is your request, then I will grant your wish and guide you with my scientific power. You said you would do anything to get me back on that stage, right?"

Homiga immediately raised her head, her eyes filled with undisguised longing and expectation.

"Yes! I'm willing to do anything, please guide me! I'd even bark like a dog if it meant getting me back on that stage!"

Akromma's smile widened, her glasses reflecting a cold, icy light.

"Really? That's something to look forward to..."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Indeed, writing about bands without adding a few hen horns is like drawing a bull without drawing its calves—it's incomplete.

(End of this chapter)