The forest fell silent once more, but this silence was not the peaceful calm that often follows a storm; instead, it felt mocking, as if an unseen force held its breath, anticipating a new tragedy to unfold. A dark aura began to creep among the trees, weaving through the trunks and underbrush, pulling the very essence of nature into its magical vortex. The dense foliage trembled, and the deeply rooted trees seemed to vibrate with an unspoken tension, as if they too sensed the weight of impending doom.
Fitran remained kneeling, his body tense, as cold sweat trickled from his temples, a telltale sign of his profound fear. The Voidwright had left a horrifying mark upon him: his skin was cracked and fragile, reminiscent of shattered glass, softly emanating a ghostly light. His eyes shimmered with swirling shades of purple, reflecting the tumult of unexpressed emotions brewing within. With each frantic heartbeat, waves of fear and flickers of hope crashed against one another within him, as if the very magic surrounding him was seeping into his soul, challenging his convictions. Memories of his time with Rinoa flooded back, creating a bitter contrast between the warmth of love and the chill of the looming battle. But before he could rise and gather his strength…
A small earthquake shook the ground.
Dari balik rerimbunan pohon yang dipenuhi bayangan gelap dan bentuk-bentuk membingungkan akibat sihir sebelumnya, muncul sesosok makhluk bertanduk lima, setinggi menara jam, dengan tubuh mengerikan yang tampak seperti tulang dan arang, terlilit dalam rantai-cahaya merah menyala. Energi sihir berputar di sekelilingnya, bergetar dalam irama yang tidak wajar, seolah-olah hidup dalam dorongan keinginan yang mengerikan, memancarkan aura menakutkan yang menciptakan atmosfer berat dan dingin, membuat udara terasa sesak dan menyengat.
"Molun'thar, The Emotion Devourer."
"To those whose love is a weakness, I grant the truest death."
Rinoa berdiri tegar di antara Fitran dan monster itu, tubuhnya dikuasai tekanan yang berlawanan dengan ketegasan dalam napasnya yang pendek dan cepat. Dia merasakan aliran sihir berbahaya yang menyeruak, berusaha merasuk ke dalam jiwa, menembus tembok pertahanan emosional yang ia bangun dengan susah payah. Setiap detakan jantung memicu transformasi rasa takut menjadi keberanian, mendorongnya untuk melindungi orang yang sangat dicintainya, meskipun rasa tercekik menyerang tenggorokannya dengan ganas.
"Jangan ganggu dia…" ucapnya pelan, suara yang bergetar penuh ketegangan, seolah setiap kata membentuk dinding tak terlihat, berusaha melindungi mereka dari kegelapan yang mengancam.
Molun'thar ambled forward with deliberate slowness, its footsteps searing the earth and scorching the grass beneath, yet curiously void of smoke, crafting a scene both nightmarish and awe-inspiring. This creature was no mere inhabitant of this realm; it was a dimension wanderer of emotions, birthed from feelings long forsaken. With each deliberate step it took, the wind began to stir, generating a chilling breeze thick with despair and unfulfilled longing, impelling the souls watching from a distance, and fostering an atmosphere heavy with foreboding.
"Unreciprocated love... discarded gratitude...
...longing transformed into a weapon.
I consume it all."
Rinoa's hands quivered, reflecting the rhythm of an overwhelming, deep-seated dread that coursed through her veins. She felt the malignancy encroaching upon her; it was a looming threat that sent shivers down her spine, revealing the horrifying repercussions that lay in wait. The loss would not merely be of a physical form; the happy memories, intricately woven into the fabric of her very soul, would be annihilated as though they had never existed, siphoned away by the relentless, destructive currents of darkness. Among these memories were the cherished moments with Fitran, the recollections that had illuminated the shadowy alcoves of her heart with the warm glow of love.
Closing her eyes momentarily, she fought against the creeping doubts that enveloped her mind like a suffocating fog. The air around her began to swirl violently, twisted by the menacing energy of Molun'thar's dark magic. Snowflakes fell from the pristine sky, each delicate flake swirling and twirling gracefully before being caught and whisked away by the fierce, roaring winds that howled within the shadows.
"...Wind and Ice," she whispered, her voice quaking yet infused with a fierce determination that burned within her. "That is all I possess. But if it can shield her from monsters like you…"
With unwavering conviction, she lifted her right hand, every fiber of her being converging on a singular, noble purpose. Pure magical energy surged from within her, bubbling and enveloping her body like a luminous cocoon, casting a radiant glow that pierced through the oppressive darkness. In that electrifying moment, time seemed to stretch infinitely, each heartbeat echoing the weight of a thousand years, intertwined with hope and fear that hung thick in the air around her.
"Aether Waltz: Valsus Cryo Tempesta!"
The dance commenced, the wind spiraling gracefully into a mesmerizing flow, exploring every corner of the room with sharp elegance. Snowflakes, in their purest form, transformed into delicate, lightweight blades that twirled around Rinoa's body, weaving a visual symphony that captivated the eye. Each movement resonated like a melodic note struck by the universe, and in this moment, Rinoa wasn't merely engaged in battle—she sang and danced to protect the love that lay silent and precious within her heart. A tumultuous blend of hope and uncertainty surged within her soul, conjuring an unexpected storm of currents, as if the very fabric of the cosmos sensed her inner turmoil.
With a bone-chilling roar, Molun'thar unleashed its fury, and its form began an unsettling transformation—human hands erupted grotesquely from its back, each one crying out, each calling a different name that echoed in the darkness. These spectral appendages resembled shadows struggling to snatch away a singular name from Rinoa: the name Fitran. The darkness trembled with fragmented dreams and broken aspirations, seeping into Rinoa's soul and seizing her heart in a suffocating grip, as if it yearned to drag her into the depths of despair.
"I will not let you take him from me!" Rinoa shouted, her voice ringing out with fierce determination and unshakeable courage. A surge of swirling energy coursed through her being, pushing the very limits of her physical and mental strength, creating pulsating waves that radiated fiercely around her like a vibrant aura. Her heart raced wildly, each beat echoing the relentless drum of uncertainty, building layers of tension within every fiber of her being.
In a symphonic explosion, the ice erupted in radiant brilliance, casting a kaleidoscope of dazzling light that wove intricate strands through the oppressive darkness. The wind howled violently, ripping through dimensions, as if summoned by Rinoa's defiance, surrounding Molun'thar with an inescapable spirit of attack. In one swift, decisive motion, Rinoa thrust the ice spear into the heart of Molun'thar—yet the creature merely smiled, a chilling grin etched across its face, as though it reveled in the unfolding drama. From its malevolent mouth emerged the words:
"You too… love in silence, don't you?"
At that moment, Molun'thar unleashed a surge of black energy that flowed through the air like thick, ominous smoke, enveloping the surroundings with a menacing aura. This attack, however, harbored a more sinister intent; it sought to erase Rinoa's love for Fitran. A parasitic magic glided through her consciousness, weaving through the fabric of her memories with a vicious grip, akin to termites slowly gnawing away at the very structure of her recollections, each moment of love being dismantled agonizingly. Pain radiated from her core, as if her very soul were being seized by an insatiable being of darkness. The roots of that darkness spread through the garden of her heart, ruthless in their destruction of the beautiful flowers blooming within her spirit. Rinoa's body trembled violently under the weight of the energy that embraced her mind, her emotional barriers crumbling one by one like an ancient fortress falling without mercy. "Don't…" she whispered, her voice barely escaping her lips, stifled by an overwhelming tide of profound fear. "Don't take that away from me..."
Yet, the magic had pierced the remnants of her happiness, tearing apart the last layers of joy that had shielded her heart. In her desperation, she sank to her knees, consumed by an ever-rising sea of darkness that swirled around her mercilessly. The tears she shed froze in midfall, crystallizing like dew drops clinging desperately to a blade of grass before being shattered by the relentless rays of the morning sun. Just as everything seemed to slip away into oblivion, a firm and powerful voice resonated from behind her, cutting through the darkness.
"Don't disturb her."
Fitran stood resolute, his form a lone bastion amidst the oppressive darkness that clawed at him, even as painful wounds marred his body. The Voidwright, an unfathomable demon of nightmares, had seared the very essence of his soul, yet his spirit burned fiercely, a torch that defied the shadows threatening to snuff it out. In the depths of the night, his eyes blazed with a wild and hopeful golden light, reminiscent of a beacon shining defiantly amidst a tempest of despair. "I will not allow anyone to erase the one who taught me about love," he declared, his voice hoarse yet resonant, akin to thunder rumbling in the heart of a storm. "Step aside… or die in my path."
The wind roared with a fierce intensity, echoing with whispers from realms unseen, crafting an electric atmosphere thick with tension and magic. Above him, the sky writhed under the opposing forces, radiant light clashing violently against the engulfing shadows of anguished memories long forgotten. Each gust of wind bore the haunting scent of nostalgia, wrapping around him like a shroud and evoking a deep sense of longing and profound sadness, as if the very fabric of the universe empathized with his torment.
With unwavering determination, Fitran slowly raised his hand, reaching for the object bound to his back, wrapped in a radiant glow. A long sword, its blade as white as bone and shining like the pure essence of the sun, sliced gracefully through the air, evoking a sense of timelessness as if the very fabric of reality paused to witness its unveiling. As Excalibur broke free from its bindings, the luminous aura surrounding it surged forth, enveloping Fitran in a warm embrace that caressed his skin, rekindling the flickering embers of a spirit that had long been extinguished.
Excalibur.
A weapon steeped in legend, more than mere myth—it is a sword that embodies the world's first oath: that the truth will always have one protector.
Molun'thar growled low, his voice a dark rumble that erupted with the ferocity of a storm birthed from the depths of his heart. He recognized it—and the loathing surged through him like a venomous tide. Each glimmering facet of Excalibur's ore pierced through the fog of his hatred, casting painful illuminations on the soul of the world, resurrecting haunting memories of what had been irrevocably lost. The weight of that hatred pressed down upon his heart, nestling deep within him, while an insidious fear began to claw at his very essence. An air heavy with anxiety enveloped the scene, as if it sought to crush every heartbeat, adding unbearable weight to already weary shoulders.
Fitran's body trembled with unease, each quiver echoing the tumultuous gathering of his scattered fears. The Voidwright had ravaged his very essence, drilling deep lines of suffering into the core of his soul. Lifting Excalibur now felt synonymous with inviting his own destruction. A haunting image flickered in his mind—this liberation was not merely about seizing ultimate power; it was a treacherous gamble that threatened to consume everything he held dear.
Yet, as his gaze drifted toward Rinoa, fragile and fighting against the encroaching darkness, Fitran resolved to embrace one undeniable truth:
"Love must not be regretted."
With newfound determination, he straightened his form, igniting a fervor within his spirit. His hands gripped Excalibur with conviction, and from his lips emerged a soft whisper—an ancient incantation that flowed like a sweet melody. The words acted as binding threads, linking his existence to a higher essence, channeling profound and intense emotions that intertwined with the pulsating magical energy enveloping him. Light began to radiate from the tips of his fingers, coalescing into a shimmering vortex brimming with boundless power and hope.
"Sword Magic: Lumen Caeli Reverentia."
(The Light of Heavenly Reverence.)
The blade of Excalibur transformed magnificently, its once-solid surface now shimmering with luminous energy. A radiant white light enveloped it, not just any ordinary illumination—but a light that bore the weight of all oaths, all sorrows, and all the love in the world. This ethereal glow flowed gently like a tranquil river, caressing the essence of the soul, as it created deep vibrations in harmony with every heartbeat. The sword sang sweetly, as if the very cosmos was recalling every love that ever existed, its resonant melody weaving through the air, stirring both joyful and poignant memories within Fitran. A profound pressure weighed upon his chest, as if every whispering breeze carried with it unyielding prayers and hopes that would never fade.
With newfound vigor, Fitran swung Excalibur with purpose. The arc of the sword carved through the air, conjuring an elegant golden rose-shaped magical circle that blossomed around him, radiating outward in a magnificent radius of dozens of meters. The space itself vibrated with sacred power, pulsating in rhythm with the energy surrounding him. The magical aura spun and sparkled, swirling around Fitran, creating an invisible shield that not only protected him but also fortified his resolve, infusing courage into every determined step he took.
Molun'thar roared, his voice reverberating like thunder across the night sky, a chilling sound that sent tremors through the very air around them. In an attempt to overwhelm Fitran, he unleashed a torrent of rancid memories—a whirlwind of forgotten faces and tragic endings, all swirling with dark shadows that crept ominously into Fitran's mind, bringing haunting images that clawed at his consciousness and demanded his unavoidable attention. Yet, each of these ghastly attacks was swiftly shattered by the brilliant flash of Excalibur, which cleaved through the suffocating darkness, its radiant light embodying a piercing hope that cut through the depths of despair. Fitran's unwavering intention to save stood defiantly against the encroaching despair offered by Molun'thar, like two powerful ripples in an ocean of chaos, colliding and annihilating each other amidst the roaring waves of battle.
"I will not kill you, Molun'thar."
"I will free you."
With heavy but resolute steps, Fitran charged forward, each movement imbued with an indomitable spirit, as if time itself momentarily halted to witness the intensity of his struggle. Each swing of Excalibur shattered the illusions that sought to ensnare him, fracturing the fear that had taken root deep within his soul and transforming it into a surging wave of courage that pulsed through his veins.
Molun'thar, not to be thwarted easily, attempted a desperate counterattack, spawning hundreds of ghostly hands from his trembling body, reaching out as if to ensnare Fitran in their terrifying grip of darkness. But Fitran—each of his movements became a living prayer, a blazing hope lighting the way, and every powerful strike he delivered was a promise fulfilled, carving forth a bravery that shone like golden light in the midst of the pitch-black night.
In those electrifying moments, a torrent of magical energy surged through the air, saturating it with an almost palpable vibrancy that trembled and shimmered, as if the very atmosphere danced to a symphony of hope. Waves of sparkling light swirled around Fitran like ethereal spirits, casting a radiant golden hue upon his determined face and igniting the unyielding fire of his spirit within. Finally, fueled by blazing courage and an unwavering resolve, Fitran leaped high into the air, his body breaking through the thick fog of emotion that surrounded him, feeling the pulsating flow of energy reinforcing his determination to act. With a final, powerful swing of his mighty blade—
"Lumen Caeli Reverentia—Sanctus Finis!"
The blade of Excalibur drove deep into Molun'thar's chest with a resonant, piercing sound, and as the weapon embedded itself within the demon's flesh, a cataclysmic explosion of light erupted around the creature, tearing the veil between the mortal realm and the ethereal plane. Molun'thar's scream echoed not from agony, but from the profound metamorphosis he was undergoing... he was forgiven, feeling the weight of his inner torment evaporate in the brilliance of the illuminating light. His form shimmered and cracked with splendor, dissolving into golden dust that softly spiraled skyward, returning to the realm of spirits.
Fitran's body fell to his knees.
Though his hands still gripped the hilt of Excalibur, Fitran's face had grown pale, and each labored breath escaped his lips like a fading whisper. The cracks of the Voidwright marred his skin, deepening with each heartbeat, while the once-brilliant glow of Excalibur began to dim within his grasp, casting flickering shadows around him.
Rinoa rushed toward him, her heart pounding with urgency. She enveloped Fitran's fragile form in her arms, as if her embrace could shield him from the fragile threads of existence that threatened to tear him away. The winds around them howled gently, a stark reminder that even the slightest gust could shatter his tenuous hold on life.
"I'm here... Fitran... I'm here..." Rinoa murmured, her voice trembling as tears streamed down her cheeks, glistening like dew in the dawn light.
With the last flickers of strength that remained, Fitran managed to muster a faint smile, illuminated by a profound sense of peace. He leaned in, whispering his final words, a promise delicate as the finest crystal:
"I promised... I will sing this world for you... until the end."
And in that moment, the world sank into a tranquil golden silence, encasing their sorrow and love in an ethereal embrace.