Silence enveloped the Temple of Mount. Aura Fitran, now the Nameless Monarch, grew beyond the limits of flesh and magic, pressing down on the entire altar of Stones with pure darkness. Fitran's eyes shone with a dark white light, his body like thick black mist that separated space and time.
Kaseo, Satan, Althur, the Knights—all felt the aura of death, as if their names were being called into an emptiness unreachable by conventional power. Their hearts raced, trapped between hope and fear whispering the possibility of an end. Restlessness crept among them, like a breeze carrying the scent of bromine from previous ruins.
Fitran raised his right hand, Voidlight transformed into a swirling vortex of darkness, and chanted a spell never heard before:
"Oblivion Spiral: Devourer's Requiem."
Suddenly, the space trembled violently. The dark black spiral radiated from Fitran's hand, devouring the air, light, even sound. This spell targeted not just the body—it sliced directly into the core of names, identities, and the roots of meaning of every entity at the altar. A feeling of despair enveloped Kaseo, as if his own name was being torn from the purpose of his life, each fragment of lost identity making him feel a deeper emptiness.
Kaseo raised the emerald crystal, trying to summon all the memories of the Avatar to survive. However, Fitran's magical spiral penetrated all layers of defense; the crystal began to crack, fragments of the Avatar names flickering, almost disappearing without a trace. Roaring in his heart, Kaseo felt each crack like a stab to his soul, eroding the memories that were so precious to him.
Satan spread her wings, reciting an abyssal contract to protect herself. However, the contract that usually severed all possibilities was now swept away by the magic that rejected meaning itself. In that moment, Satan felt a rare loneliness, as if all the power she had gathered was powerless against the darkness that was destroying her soul.
Althur, with his emerald sword, slashed at the vortex of darkness—but each slash only produced new fragments of names that were also sucked in. The Knights tried to form a protective circle with the Solar Blade, but their names began to blur one by one, their memories eroded, their history slowly destroyed. Fear enveloped Althur's heart, every movement he made felt increasingly hollow, as if his sword was no longer a symbol of strength, but a tool marking extinction. In the emptiness that swept over him, he felt a cold current attacking his skin, as if the world was demanding; what is the meaning of power without identity?
Oblivion Spiral enveloped the entire altar, consuming anything that tried to resist forgiveness. Every attack, curse, even hope was forced to confront the fundamental question: Who are you if your name is erased from the world?
Gawain knelt, the Solar Blade trembling. He saw flashes of his life: promises to the old king, laughter with Lancelot, Galahad's tears—all began to fade, turning into a mist that refused to be remembered. In the painful silence, his heart felt poisoned, every remaining memory seemed to tear at his soul, leaving a mark deeper than physical wounds. With trembling fingers, he touched the ground, hoping to remember something, anything that still remained from life before darkness took everything.
Kaseo screamed, his Proto-Speech voice shattered. The emerald crystal shattered completely, the powers of the old Avatars melted into a stream of emptiness, returning to the pulse of a meaningless world. Satan screamed, her eyes turning red and black, her body torn between existence and oblivion. In deep panic, she felt her heartbeat raging, echoing in the burning darkness, as if her soul was tossed between life and death. In the corner of her mind, a last hope remained: was it possible to regain everything, or would she never be free from the shadows of the past?
Althur roared, trying to drive his sword into the ground. "I—who am I in the face of a world that rejects all names?!" But that voice was lost, absorbed by Fitran's magical spiral. Despair burned in his soul, and he felt trapped in a labyrinth with no exit, every question cutting deeper. In an instant, a memory touched him: the faces of those he loved, the voices that brought him home; yet all of it grew fainter, like a painting violently erased.
The space transformed into a theater of emptiness. Every entity—Kaseo, Satan, Althur, the Knights—entered a vortex of nightmares: Without names, without history, without a place to return. They saw shadows of childhood, promises once made, betrayals once regretted, then… all of it collapsed, becoming a thick blackness that could not be translated into any language.
Fitran stood at the center of the spiral, his body glowing darkly. In his eyes, there was no anger—only sorrow that no longer had words to express. He felt trapped in emptiness, alienated from the world he once knew, as if everything he loved had been erased in an instant. In his heart, there was a pain that tore at him, reminding him that hope could still flicker even if dimmed.
Rinoa, from a distance, witnessed the destruction. Small spirits tried to hold back the effects of Fitran's magic, creating a thin wall around her. She screamed, "Fitran! Don't let yourself be swept away… Don't swallow everything!"
Rinoa's cry pierced the spiral, touching the remnants of Fitran's consciousness. For a moment, the black vortex slowed. Fitran heard Rinoa's voice like the first vibration of the sun after the longest night. Yet, amid that trembling hope, there was a deep fear; could the execution of the spell truly be changed, or was it too late for them all? His demeanor reflected despair and restless desire, yearning for something rooted in beauty, not the emptiness that enveloped him.
In his mind, a echo: "If the world is erased, whose love will remain alive?"
The magic of "Oblivion Spiral: Devourer's Requiem" began to soften, the vortex decreasing in intensity. Satan lay collapsed, her contract in tatters. Kaseo sat down, his eyes vacant, the fragments of the crystal in his hand reduced to dust. Althur gasped, losing his way, his sword hanging in his hand, a burden that was becoming heavier than all the sorrow he carried. In the heat flowing from his wounds, he felt overwhelmed, erasing all courage, the fight seemed futile, blurring the line between hope and despair. In his chest, his heartbeat felt like a slap, as if trying to convince himself that there was a reason to endure, even as the shadows of emptiness haunted him.
The magic of "Oblivion Spiral: Devourer's Requiem" began to soften, the vortex decreasing in intensity. Satan lay collapsed, her contract in tatters. Kaseo sat down, his eyes vacant, the fragments of the crystal in his hand reduced to dust. Althur gasped, losing his way, his sword cracking.
The Knights, half losing their names, held onto each other to avoid falling into the abyss of absolute emptiness. The circle of Solar Blade magic began to glow faintly again, signaling that their old resolve had not been completely extinguished.
Fitran slowly knelt, his shoulders heavy with all the wounds, names, and memories he was about to swallow. The atmosphere shook his heart, urging him to trace every trace of pain buried deep within, as if drowning in a turbulent sea of memories.
Tears of sorrow flowed down his cheeks, representing all the unspoken hopes and losses. He felt the fine dust of past fragments touch his skin, like a gentle whisper reminding him that once again, he must be strong.
The world of Stones fell silent. Only the sound of Fitran's breath, Rinoa's sobs, and the vibrations of the roots of the Tree of Scars indicated that the world was not yet completely destroyed.
Fitran closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, slowly calming his own magic. He knew that if he continued to be the Nameless Monarch without limits, then not only enemies—everyone he loved would also vanish into emptiness.
Rinoa ran to him, hugging Fitran from behind. She cried, but now her voice was firm: "Don't disappear… I still want to love your name, Fitran. I want you to remain, even if only as a wound I can embrace."
In that embrace, Fitran felt a warmth that birthed a glimmer of hope, even as the shadows of emptiness continued to threaten. There was a desire to protect Rinoa, to keep the small light in his heart from being dimmed by the darkness engulfing the world.
As Rinoa's breath touched his neck, he felt how alive he still was, intertwined in the power of love that was nearly extinguished. God reaffirmed His promise in the silence, that as long as there is love, all things are possible.
And for a moment, the spiral of darkness shattered, leaving only two voices calling out in the ruins of the world: One name that remained alive, because it was called not to be forgotten, but to be accepted—fully, with wounds and hopes.
Rinoa's breath paused for a moment, as if she felt every note of the voice calling her name. In her heart, a deep longing surged like a wave that could not be contained, flowing fiercely, flooding all the hidden feelings. She knew that in the midst of this darkness, her love was the only light shining, guiding her to stand firm.