Light and emptiness collide.
The ground no longer resembled earth; it vibrated and shimmered with an inexplicable energy, creating an almost magical atmosphere reminiscent of ancient myths. The air around it trembled, thick and heavy, as if conversing with a greater force, a cosmic entity beyond human comprehension. Reality around them split apart and faded, like fragile fabric torn by opposing powers, producing a deafening sound that pierced the silence. The wind whispered, soft yet terrifying, its breath seemingly muted by the tension enveloping this realm full of uncertainty. Dark energy crawled around them, spreading a sharp metallic scent and a piercing sense of fear into the souls of anyone daring to approach, reminiscent of the oppressive presence often described in tales of demonic encounters.
In the air, Fitran hovered.
His body was nearly unconscious, swaying from the horrific wound gouged in his chest. Thick red blood flowed, leaving a gruesome trail against the darkened sky. Despite the piercing pain, Excalibur remained gripped in his hand; the blade's light began to shimmer with a dark purple glow, as if responding to the void surrounding him. Within the suffocating darkness, he sensed the presence of Beelzebub, a towering shadow looming in uncertainty, its crimson eyes glinting like embers, ready to consume anyone approaching with malicious intent.
Umbra Aeternum.
Voidwright Essence.
It was not magic he recognized.
Not a spell he had learned.
This was pure will, emerging when all other laws had failed, manifesting as an intense survival instinct. In the biting silence, a ghostly voice brushed against his mind, a soft yet captivating whisper, offering unimaginable power yet demanding a profound sacrifice. He felt the flow of Voidwright Essence encircling his body, merging with every fiber of his wounds, filling the emptiness with dark energy waiting to be unleashed. Deep within his soul, he sensed Beelzebub's power within reach, as if he could control it for an instant; yet, at the same time, the burden of that power crept into his thoughts, threatening to shatter him under its weight, leaving him in a state of moral conflict.
His eyes opened halfway.
The voice in his head still echoed, filling the space with an undeniable vibration. Beelzebub's movements before him seemed hypnotic, each step carving despair into the dark ground, and Fitran realized there was only one path to confront that monster. He screamed, unleashing the name of the darkness that lay dormant in his trembling heart, summoning back all the desires and hopes that had long been buried.
"If your will is nearly dead..."
"Then be born not as a human. But as that will itself."
Yet Fitran did not comprehend the source of the voice.
He only knew one thing:
"I must keep standing."
"For Sheena."
"For our child."
"For a world that has never fully tasted free will."
Dark shadows flowed endlessly, enveloping the battlefield with a burning tension.
The energy of the Voidwright blazed, piercing the darkness that cloaked the arrogant existence of Beelzebub. Ethereal voices floated in the air, calling forth the primordial power trapped within the recesses of darkness.
Excalibur transformed.
Its blade was no longer merely light, but an entity manifesting itself.
A gentle shadow enveloped him with unexpected grace.
This shadow did not destroy but instead forcibly absorbed the laws that sought to constrain his unwavering will.
From the depths of emptiness, Fitran felt a profound vibration, as if the power of the Voidwright was present beside him, flowing through every vein, offering freedom in every strike he made. Each movement was governed by a force far greater than himself.
"Umbra Severance!"
The first swing sliced through the waves of void from the Ninth Stomach,
as if giving voice to the silence. The pull of emptiness ceased.
Beelzebub, seething with rage and half-closed mouth, sensed the disaster gripping the recesses of his soul.
The rumbling voice from the depths of his being struck his heart, leaving him breathless, as fear slowly crawled into his innermost being. He realized that in this battle, not only his life was at stake, but also the very perspective of his entire existence.
The second swing severed one of Beelzebub's jaws, renowned as the devourer of will.
The Glyph Proto-Speech cracked, signaling the threatened power.
As if its sharp voice was tearing apart the aura around him, Fitran's voice echoed against the darkness, "This power is not for you!" Each of his steps was accompanied by vibrations, as if the shadows surrounding him quivered uncontrollably under the pressure of the raging battle.
The third swing—
slashed the chest of Beelzebub himself.
Dark greenish blood spurted.
Beelzebub roared, his voice resonating through the darkness, not merely noise, but a terrifying cheer from the depths, creating vibrations in the soul of anyone who heard it, as if there was a menacing call from another dimension.
"Impossible!"
"You do not understand that power!"
"It is a will that even I—who have devoured the entire ancient pact—cannot comprehend!"
The giant wings of Beelzebub stirred, shaking the air.
He retreated,
for the first time since his creation.
Amidst the darkness, the mysterious aura of the Voidwright began to glow ominously, revealing a sky adorned with stars once spoken of by ancestors, narrating heroic tales passed down through generations. Each heartbeat of Fitran pulsed with tension, infused with strength from a higher power, filling him with an unspoken fervor, a mystical resonance that connected him to the vast universe beyond his immediate struggle.
"You... have summoned a power that is not yours to wield."
"Voidwright. The Breaker of Meaning."
But Fitran did not understand.
His eyes struggled to maintain focus, trying to pierce through the fog of uncertainty before him.
"What... is this?"
The shadowy aura began to fade,
its once-majestic presence diminishing as the Voidwright Essence that enveloped his body slipped back into the terrifying void. The light of Excalibur shone once more, now sparkling with a golden white akin to a newborn dawn.
Fitran felt something profound, a fleeting vision of a long-forgotten world. The faint echoes of spells whispered in his ears, carrying an air of elegance and mystery from the latent power within. He believed it was merely the last manifestation of his nearly shattered will.
But he did not realize... he had just accessed a power possessed only by those who transcend the limits of human will.
Beelzebub stared with a mix of anger and fear, recognizing that his ego and pride had now been cast aside, like a shadow left behind by the dark night.
"I will return."
"You will not escape the final judgment."
His wings flared with tremendous power,
soaring into the fractured sky, entering the newly formed void, almost like an inescapable intertwining of fate.
Before disappearing completely, his last deep voice resonated:
"You and the small will within Sheena will face the Ninth Maw once again."
His last deep voice resonated through the void, an echo of a promise: "You and the small will within Sheena will face the Ninth Maw once again, a cyclical fate entwined with darkness."
In the blink of an eye, Beelzebub vanished into the darkness that devoured everything.
But before that moment, their battle painted the night sky with unimaginable black light; like a work of art created by two clashing forces.Their powers collided, creating dark ripples that vibrated through the cosmos, filled with a mystical aura that shook the soul.
Excalibur stood upright in the ground, its restless light reflecting the moon's glow.
Fitran leaned heavily against its blade, his breaths ragged after the intense fight.
His body trembled, every gaping wound felt like embers burning beneath his skin, reminding him of the price to be paid for power and courage.
"Did I win?" he murmured, his voice filled with disbelief and exhaustion.
No answer came, only the sounds of the night enveloping the biting silence.
In Fitran's eyes, Beelzebub's shadow materialized into a thick fog, vibrating with an unexpected dark energy, as if the Voidwright himself was whispering through the dark claws of their battle, marking that this fight was not yet fully over.
But one thing was certain... this was not the end.
At the high balcony of Avalon Castle, Sheena stood alone, gazing at the distant ruins sprawled along the horizon, a dark shadow lurking in her thoughts.
Her right hand clutched her abdomen, as if protecting the secrets yet to come, a hope growing in the darkness.
A gentle pulse was felt from within, merging with the rapid beating of her heart, echoing the life growing inside her—a symbol of hope and continuity amid the chaos of battle.
"I hear your will, Fitran." The soft yet powerful voice echoed in the rush of the night wind.
"And our child hears it too." She added strength to every word spoken.
"We will endure... until this world is ready to embrace a meaning that has long been lost and not passed on by anyone, as a symbol of new hope."
Behind her, dark shadows continued to lurk, waiting for the right moment to return. A promise in the darkness, bound by a force greater than mere physicality. The atmosphere was steeped in a tension that felt both hopeful and foreboding for what was to come, as the line between peace and emptiness began to sharpen like a steep cliff, symbolizing the impending choices that would define their fates.