The last explosion between Voidlight and Excalibur shook the sky until the very fabric of reality began to melt. The earth stood still. The Stones' roots neither grew nor died—they remained silent, paralyzed by fear.
And history… refused to be written.
Dark clouds gathered over the battlefield, as if capturing the echoes of the blinding clash. Lightning struck in the distance, heightening the tension in the atmosphere. Two forces, one inevitable.
The sky above was no longer a dome. It cracked in a pattern resembling a shattered web of fate.
In the midst of it all, two lines of light shone:
Voidlight, absorbing all existence and unleashing true magic. That blue light spread like waves of life, embracing the remnants and igniting hope in desperate hearts.
Excalibur, striving to uphold the final law: one world, one throne, with no heirs. That powerful magic was the ultimate test for anyone standing against it, and anyone who pledged loyalty to that light felt a calling deep within their souls.
The world watched, but it didn't know whom to side with. Shadows trembled between light and darkness, and whispers of fate echoed in the ears of the astonished witnesses.
Fitran: Fallen, But Not Broken
A single blow from Excalibur struck Fitran directly. Voidlight nearly slipped from his grasp.
Around him, time seemed to slow, and the melodic sound of magic resonated, as if the cosmos responded to every movement. His ribs cracked. Blood flowed.
But his hand remained firm.
Not out of strength. But because Voidlight still had more to say.
Pain burned through his body, but beneath it lay a greater force—a force that urged him to stand tall. The fighting spirit of Voidlight continued to flow through his energy, whispering hope even in the most vulnerable moments.
"You are me," a voice whispered from the sword.
"And I am not done… becoming a world that refuses to inherit wounds."
Voidlight: Final Invocation
Fitran plunged Voidlight into the ground.
The earth burned purple. The air collapsed inward. All existence began to be absorbed—not destroyed, but re-registered as the energy of the world. In the process, a purple light spread, as if feeling its vibrations within the order of reality. A deep sense of power flowed from Voidlight, touching both spiritual and physical boundaries.
From his body, magic exploded in all directions. Clusters of energy swirled around him, creating a vortex that enveloped the battlefield, almost like the backdrop of a star being born in the dark. This power, immeasurable, left his opponents in awe and fear.
Voidlight – Terminal Form: Nihilun Avesta
The Blade That Names Without Inheriting
Voidlight reached its full form:
Its blade was no longer solid but a liquid existence, constantly changing. Every second, its shape transitioned, creating illusions that deceived the eye and tore apart the boundaries of the visible.
Black-purple light flowed like ink, rewriting the air, creating patterns displayed in the sky. Each stroke shimmered with magic, depicting the battle between fate and freedom. Below, a hissing sound spread, forming a strange melody that bridged this world with another.
This sword demanded no blood… only the truth that refused to be inherited. In the silence of the world, Althur's voice echoed, "You are born from this darkness, and only darkness can claim you."
Althur looked at him and raised Excalibur high. The light from its blade pierced the night, driving away the shadows that cloaked the surrounding forest. It was as if the sky itself trembled with the pure power radiating from the sword.
Excalibur – Crown Over Silence: Law of the Final Name
"If you do not wish to inherit, then I will create a world with no heirs at all." In a surge of power, the echo of those words shattered the silence, adding a vorpal wind that swirled around these two architects of fate.
His sword merged with all the laws of the world, vibrating as if answering a call from the core of the cosmos.
The sky screamed, rolling dark clouds that surrounded them; lightning flashed, intensifying the tension in the air.
The last roots of the Stones began to melt, creating a raging river of magma, burning everything in its path.
The spirits of the world froze, captivated by a battle that transcended the boundaries between science and magic, between causality and impossibility.
Voidlight and Excalibur collided in the air, producing waves of energy that shattered the silence of the night. Sparkling light radiated from the point of impact, surrounding them in an aura that glowed like falling stars.
Excalibur burned meaning, creating illusions that traversed time and space, as if questioning everything that existed.
Voidlight channeled matter, transforming the cold air into sharp shards of ice, wounding every spark generated from their clash.
When they collided, a thunderous boom shook the sky. Black doves flew, signaling that the ancient power was felt in every inch of the earth…
The entire system of the world opened up.
Not destruction. But like someone opening the final book of the universe, where hidden truths lay. The echoes of every page explored somewhere deep within the soul.
And within it—Fitran uttered a single word. His voice resonated like an ancient incantation that awakened infinite power.
"Vernashael."
Not to attack. His voice was soft yet firm, ready to challenge whatever lay before him. But to remember. In the vibration of his name, it was as if he called back the souls trapped between dimensions.
The Cracking System
Excalibur wavered.
Althur was pushed back. One of his spiral crowns fell to the ground, shattering into Proto-Speech dust. With every grain of dust that fell, a glimmer of light reflected, as if each fragment contained a forgotten story.
"It's impossible… that's not a name of inheritance…"
Fitran replied:
"That is a name born from the void that chooses to endure.
It… is the world."
The sky split.
But not towards destruction—rather towards rebirth. Shimmering light flowed like a river, revealing portraits of the past and future, united in a mystery-filled oneness.
Proto-Speech did not write. But Voidlight carved into the ground:
"ꦧꦺꦴꦤ꧀ꦢꦼꦤ ꦲꦤ꧀ꦝ ꦏꦸꦩ꧀ꦧꦼ ꦏꦿꦁꦏꦤ꧀ꦏꦺ"
Bondena Andha Kumbe Kringken
(Inheritance need not be passed down… if wounds can be chosen.)
And beneath it, Fitran and Althur… prepared for the final blow. Every heartbeat resonated with energy, filling the air with the vibrations of magic. As if the earth itself screamed, every mark they made resonated with primordial power. In a brief moment of silence, they exchanged glances, as if speaking without words, strengthening one another for the challenging journey ahead.