The silence enveloping the Forest Labyrinth felt too profound, too serene to be considered a victory. Fitran and Rinoa walked only a few meters from the body of Arboreus Nihil, which now appeared as an ordinary tree—dead and lifeless. Yet, in an instant, the ground beneath their feet began to tremble, as if the heart of the forest was awakened again, beating in a dark and threatening rhythm.
Fitran suddenly stopped. Slowly, he turned around, his eyes wide with a sharp fear piercing into his chest.
"What is this—" Rinoa began to ask, but the booming roar quickly drowned out her question before she could finish.
From the seemingly dying body of Arboreus, a sinister dark green energy surged from all corners of the Forest Labyrinth. The roots that had previously been immobile now crawled rapidly, rushing towards the center of the forest, filling Arboreus with despairing energy borrowed from every corner, as if siphoning the life from the fertile ground, majestic trees, and even the bright sky.
In the blink of an eye, the previously lifeless tree rose again, growing larger and more terrifying than before. Now it towered over twenty-five meters high; its dark trunk became more pronounced, while its branches, resembling human hands, swayed wildly, forming a sharp and cruel crown at the top.
Arboreus Nihil was reborn—stronger, more desperate, and far more invincible than ever before.
Fitran stood frozen, his sword trembling in his grip, as if sensing the fear that dominated him. "It can't be... how is it possible—"
The voice of Arboreus echoed through the air, like a thunderclap piercing directly into their minds, shattering the tense silence of the night.
"You think it's that simple, Fitran? You were never truly victorious here."
A thick fog quickly descended, enveloping the forest like an evil shroud that obscured the world. The air became stifling, heavy and oppressive, as if their breaths were being choked by the deepening darkness. From within that fog, terrifying silhouettes began to emerge: creatures with owl-like heads devoid of eyes, their bodies transparent and gliding slowly, whispering soft sounds that crept like poison.
Murkhowlers, the Ghosts of Lost Sound, now filled the empty space between the twisted, black trees, spreading deeper into the forest's darkness.
The creatures began to slowly float around Fitran and Rinoa, emitting a low sound that resonated like distorted ghostly whispers. They mimicked the gentle murmurs of the loved ones they had once known—voices filled with longing, heart-wrenching yet soothing, creating an overwhelming sense of doubt and fear in the hearts of anyone who heard them.
"Fitran…" Iris's voice drifted softly from behind the fog, so clear and real, as if she were truly present beside them. "Why did you leave me?"
Fitran froze, his body trembling at the vividness of the voice. "No... it's not her," he said aloud, trying to convince himself, even as doubt gnawed at his heart.
On the other hand, Rinoa heard the voice of her long-lost mother, faint and sorrowful, as if pleading for help in the darkness surrounding them.
"Rinoa… come to me, I miss you so much…"
Teardrops began to fall from the corners of her eyes, but Rinoa shook her head vigorously, summoning all her mental strength to endure, unwilling to get entangled in the painful illusion.
Suddenly, their voices vanished. Fitran opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He turned to Rinoa, only to see the expression of panic on her face, as she too had lost her voice. Echo Drain from the Murkhowlers was beginning to take effect—siphoning away their voices, leaving them deaf and mute in this suffocating darkness.
Unable to speak, unable to hear. They could only gaze at each other in despair, trapped in an increasingly surreal state. Without communication, they became extremely vulnerable to the ever-strengthening and increasingly real sounds, haunting their minds.
The mist slowly thickened, creating shadowy figures that danced around them like ghosts trapped in another world. This fog formed a marsh of illusions, a perfect false reality for the Murkhowlers, waiting to drag their victims into an eternal cycle with no way out. Its hue was gray and heavy, enveloping them in a tormenting embrace.
Fitran gripped Excalibur tightly, the glowing spear in his hand as he struggled to balance between maintaining his sanity and battling the fatigue seeping into his bones. He tried to concentrate, searching for a breach in the suffocating silence around them. Without sound, without communication, they could only rely on the deep connection they had forged—a true source of strength amidst the impending storm.
In the oppressive quiet, Rinoa displayed an expression full of determination. She focused all her energy, her gaze fixed on Fitran, her eyes radiating hope and earnestness. Between them, a wordless communication blossomed—a bond of absolute trust built from countless battles and challenges they had faced together.
In that chilling silence, they moved in unison, as though bound by an invisible force. Fitran swung his sword with the power of Sword Magic Lux Umbrae, unleashing waves of shining light and overwhelming darkness simultaneously. The brilliant light clashed with the dense shadows, dispersing the mist around them, creating a brief sliver of space free from the Murkhowlers, albeit just for a moment.
On the other hand, Rinoa unleashed a storm of wind and ice that surged forward, creating a powerful vortex that shattered a portion of the Murkhowlers into disintegrating fog particles, seemingly vanishing into the darkness. Yet, despite this, the creatures continued to pour in, their numbers countless and ominous, as if they would never cease and were merely waiting for the right moment to strike.
Meanwhile, Arboreus Nihil rose completely, its massive roots twisting violently like venomous serpents, striking the ground with a force that shook the very earth. They generated pressure waves that sought to ensnare the warriors in their grotesque grip, akin to an inevitable illusionary coil. The towering branches writhed wildly, transforming the battlefield into a constantly shifting chaos, causing Fitran and Rinoa's movements to become erratic and hindered, as if they were struggling against the torrent of a flooding river.
Amid the suffocating turmoil, Fitran gazed at Rinoa, their eyes silently vowing an unspoken promise, conveying a profound understanding between them. Without uttering a word, Fitran raised Excalibur to the sky, its keen beam reflecting light that pierced the darkness, while Rinoa lifted both her hands as high as possible, like a priestess beseeching a higher power. They realized—only the combination of their final forces could penetrate through this dense fog.
With a coordinated movement, they unleashed their most powerful spell—Silent Armonatrix: Symphony of the Voiceless. The light radiating from Excalibur merged with the storm of wind and ice controlled by Rinoa, creating a silent explosion of energy that swiftly spread, cleaving through the thick fog surrounding them and destroying the Murkhowlers one by one with astonishing force.
However, Arboreus Nihil, now significantly stronger than before, stood resilient. The colossal tree spread its branches wide, emitting a silent scream of the enraged forest, which, despite lacking any actual sound, still pierced their souls, tearing apart the tranquility and shaking the remaining courage within them.
The final wave of energy began to wane slowly, leaving an overwhelming sense of exhaustion in its wake for both of them. Fitran and Rinoa fell to their knees on the ground, their breaths ragged in the chilling silence. In their minds, a shared awareness lingered that this fight was far from over. They were still ensnared in the powerful grip of Arboreus, and their strength was rapidly dwindling.
In a moment charged with tension, Arboreus Nihil eagerly siphoned energy from the forest, prepared to deliver an inevitable final blow that would eradicate them both. They found themselves faced with a terrifying choice: to succumb to the ocean of despair offered by the colossal tree or to struggle for survival until the bitter end, even in silence, lacking any certainty of a glorious victory.
Fitran slowly lifted his head, his eyes searching for Rinoa, who met his gaze with equal intensity. In their shared look, fear had dissipated, replaced instead by a sincere and unwavering determination to endure together, transcending the limits of despair that threatened to engulf them.
For they knew that as long as they stood side by side, even in absolute silence, they still had each other—and that was the only strength that Arboreus Nihil would never be able to take from them.