Proto-Speech burned like wet paper. The roots of the Tree of Scars crumbled one by one, and the old names—from kings to unknown children—vanished from the web of the world.
Rinoa clutched her chest. Waves of panic crawled within her, the silence enveloping her seemed to bring back all the bitter memories she had once forgotten. There was no blood. Yet her pain was real.
"I... can't hear anyone anymore. Not even my own spirit... calling me." Her voice trembled, as if each word was a scream from the darkest depths of her heart.
In the midst of destruction, Fitran stood weaponless. The power flowing within him felt too strong to contain. His hands were empty, but his eyes burned—not with anger, but with resolve.
"If no names remain, then I will fight not as meaning... but as existence itself." He felt as if the wind whispered, urging him to move forward, to chase the destiny that had waited too long.
Around him, the structures of the world began to collapse: as if the universe responded to his declaration, a terrifying rumble echoed in his ears, reminding Fitran of the significance of every name that had been lost.
The pillars of time shattered like glass. Each fragment that fell radiated poetic light, highlighting new possibilities that were countless and yet to be discovered.
Water flowed backward. This was a sign, an unending cycle, reminding Fitran of the lost connections.
Cities in the memory of Stones faded from the roots, becoming mist. Images of home and the past spun in his mind, shadows that grew fainter, like voices that had never been uttered.
Fitran raised his hand, focusing energy in his palm. The whispers of the shattered world grew louder, as if every element prayed to be remembered. As he uttered the incantation, "Expansion of Existence!", a bright blue light burst from his hand, sending waves of energy that split the air with a resonating sound, "Drrrriiinnnggg!" The surroundings began to tremble, then lifted into the air; the debris of buildings shook as if drawn toward the newly emerging source of power. This wave of strength, like the cries of the entire universe, vibrated and embraced everything that had been lost, inviting a vibration of hope akin to an electric current.
The visual effects of the spell created a spiraling blue light that penetrated the ground, making the remnants of emptiness around him shimmer with an intensity that increased with every passing second. As the spell reached its peak power, a small storm began to swirl around Fitran, dust and debris floating as if whispering the voices of spirits.
In the midst of the palpable tension, Fitran felt his heartbeat resonate with the pulse of energy spreading through the air. Each breath he took paused for a moment, as if the universe awaited his action. He could feel the blue light seeping into his soul, awakening dormant power, but also instilling a fear of the consequences of that power.
The battle between good and evil became evident with each passing second. In his vision, the world around him changed, distorted by the unimaginable power. As the spell reached its climax, the sound of swirling wind formed a haunting symphony, calling forth the dark aura lurking behind the bright light.
As the effects of the spell began to fade, the blue light gradually diminished, revealing the shattered landscape once more, leaving a profound silence. The glow soared into the air until it finally vanished, leaving only a silence that felt increasingly thick, as if the world was holding its breath.
Yet, amidst the silence, the echo of Althur's voice returned, filled with firmness and strength, "Every action has its consequences, Fitran. This power will never belong to you if you do not fight the shadows within yourself." Suddenly, a warning bell rang in Fitran's ears, reminding him of the choice he faced: to fight or to surrender.
Althur: The Sword of the Law of the World
Althur had now become a shadow of himself. Half of his body was composed of a spiral structure of law: letters, silhouettes of crowns, and compressed fragments of time.
In his hand, Excalibur had transformed:
Excalibur: Judicium Totalis
One swing of the sword could now erase entire lines of heritage.
With each passing second, Fitran felt the weight of the world's expectations. His self-confidence wavered, but he knew that violating the law would bring unforeseen consequences. "This world is too free, Fitran. And because of that, this world must be purified. Names are the first mistake. Therefore, I... will erase everything."
Althur's voice carried a cold wind that seeped into Fitran's bones, reminding him of the grim shadows of the past. If one swing of the sword could erase existence, what would that mean for the courage and choices he had made? In the enveloping doubt, another voice from within him seemed to scream for justice in this dark atmosphere.
As the spell was uttered, the air around them trembled. Six streaks of silvery blue light spread from Excalibur, piercing the space between them and creating a visual distortion. The light appeared like a flowing stream of time, while a rumbling sound echoed as if the world groaned under the weight of the law being enforced. This effect lasted for a moment before beginning to fade, leaving a chill that seeped into their skin. As if responding to the summoned magical power, the wind swirled wildly, whispering to them like the voices of victims trapped in injustice.
Meanwhile, Rinoa closed her eyes. She sought one name. In the darkness devoid of light, her face framed a deep sense of anxiety; the doubt pressed against her heart like an unavoidable wave.
"Not me. Not him. But the first name... that the world forgot."
Her hand touched the last remaining root, hidden beneath the altar. The flicker of blue light trembled as her hand made contact with the withered root, as if the root responded to her presence, channeling mana that had long ceased.
And from that root... a voice emerged. A voice filled with both hope and sorrow, gently penetrating her being.
"Irah..."
Not the name of a god. Not the name of a king. But the name of a little child who had once been rejected by the entire altar for being born mute. The vibration made the entire universe seem to hold its breath, honoring the memories buried in time.
When that name was spoken, the walls of the altar trembled, and a golden light gently spread from the root, illuminating the surroundings with a warm, soothing aura. In the golden glow, a vibrating voice emerged, soft as the whisper of the wind yet echoing in the embrace of silence. Shadows of past silhouettes danced among the light, revealing laughter and tears that would forever remain in a melancholic history. This effect lasted a few seconds before gradually fading, leaving a warm feeling in the hearts of every soul that felt it, creating an unbroken connection between the past and the present.
And from that name, the world trembled slightly. All who witnessed realized the profound change—not only within the arena but also within themselves.
Fitran grasped the air. His heart raced, as if each beat was a call to restore the lost justice, uniting all the power around him to reclaim something long forgotten.
From memories never spoken, from voices not written by Proto-Speech, he formed one final technique:
✦ Echo Nullari: The Blade of Nameless Memory
This was not magic. This was not a sword. This was a call to all that had been erased.
As he swung the technique toward Althur, the air did not crack—rather, it shivered. In an instant, the atmosphere seemed to be severed, tension rising like a wave ready to crash upon the shore. Fitran's heartbeat thudded in his ears, echoing with the magical power he was about to unleash.
As the spell was uttered, the sky felt like it trembled, surrounded by dark blue light dancing around. The rustling wind sharply increased, creating a soft yet striking sound as it flowed around him. In that moment, it seemed time stood still; hope and fear collided within him, awaiting the outcome of this bold step. A sense of emptiness crept deep as the power approached.
Each touch of that magic created waves of energy that radiated circles of light, transforming the surroundings into a mystical atmosphere. The sound of energy resonated as each layer of magic interacted with the existing world, as if calling all buried memories to surface. Fragments of memories buried in darkness sounded like gentle whispers reminding him of all the losses he had experienced, making him stronger and unwavering in his purpose.
The visual effects grew intense, creating a labyrinth of blue light seeping into the layers of earth and sky, illuminating the space around him. This mystical aura leaped forth to face Althur, dazzling the eyes before vanishing into darkness. For a moment, Althur's face appeared shocked, uncertainty creeping around him like fog. These moments of heightened attention ignited Fitran's confidence and determination, as if everything he did was now connected to the history of their existence.
Althur's Excalibur swung forward:
"Judgment: Erase Fitran's Fate from the roots."
Yet Echo Nullari collided with it, not to win... but to ensure the wound remained recorded.
With every impact, the flow of petrifying energy spread, forming abstract webs of light that ensnared every step of those involved in the battle. Even as the Stones shattered, a cold sensation touched their skin, as if an unseen being called from the depths of that dimension. Every sound, every magical pilgrimage, merged into a melancholic note echoing in the souls of Althur and Fitran, reminding them of the bitter reality that resurrection might change nothing.
The waves of collision shattered the Stones into small floating islands, the sharp sound of collapse filling the air as the fragments flew apart. In that moment, it seemed time slowed down, revealing every particle flying with an unnatural grace, sparkling in powerful light. Shadows of ancient wood and trees slowly crumbled were painted in darkness, as if expressing the earth's sorrow witnessing the war between them. The sky opened, revealing the void beyond the dimension of roots, while the magical splashes from the spell billowed and participated in the increasingly dramatic confrontation.
And the last voice of Proto-Speech wrote:
ꦥꦸꦱꦺꦫ ꦲꦶꦢ꧀ꦠꦩ ꦏꦿꦶꦤꦁꦏꦸꦤ꧀ꦤ — Pusera Hidtama Kringkun (If no world remains, then memory becomes its center.)
Amidst the noise, a whispering wind carried a mournful tone as if it were the voice lost from the past, dragging that memory back into Althur's mind, forcing him to confront what had been lost. Reason and emotion clashed, echoing various feelings within, as if becoming a mediator between hope and loss. Althur knew this time, there was no turning back.
Althur and Fitran clashed in the air.
The light from Excalibur and the light from the nameless memory collided for the last time...
With each strike, the light of Excalibur surged like a blazing blue lightning, creating a glowing path in the darkness of night. The sound of metal clashing with magical power filled the space as if singing a song of sacrifice. The blue flash gave the illusion that the sky was suddenly split in two, revealing two different destinies at the same time. On the other hand, the light from the nameless memory radiated a mesmerizing purple aura, as if the buried memories were manifesting before their eyes, dancing in waves of sorrow and longing. In that light, memories of happy and painful moments overlapped, bringing to life the long-buried stories, their past that could not be forgotten.
Rinoa stood alone, calling out one voice from a world that had yet to speak...
As Rinoa called out, a soft yet stirring voice emerged, intertwined with the rumble of the two powers clashing. The allure of her magic formed a bubble of light that trembled before vanishing, leaving a visual trace like dew reflecting the morning light. Amidst the waves of energy, there was a gentle sigh that could only be heard by those truly open to magic; a voice that called for hope and sorrow in one breath.
As the charm created grew stronger, the vibration of magic in the air began to feel sharper, as if every blade of grass and leaf resonated in harmony. The surroundings vibrated with the intensity of the magic being summoned; the leaves trembled as if resonating with the call, while the green light from Rinoa spread, creating graceful patterns in the air. Some small creatures, captivated by the dancing glow, gathered near her, gazing with eyes full of curiosity and wonder. As the magical energy subsided, the once-bright light began to fade, allowing silence and mystery to flow back into the surrounding nature.
In the midst of the imbalance, Rinoa felt the pressure from both powers, and her heart trembled with anxiety. In those tense moments, whispers from another world seeped into her soul, awakening beautiful and bitter memories that demanded to be remembered. With all her effort, she redirected her focus and ignited the power within her; each second felt like a century as magic flowed, filling the air, preparing herself for the inevitable confrontation.