The Volanthis River flows sluggishly, mirroring the profound sadness that surrounds Rinoa, who cradles Fitran's lifeless body in her arms. The once crisp morning air has turned frigid, chilling to the bone, as though nature itself mourns with her, sensing the heavy sorrow that blankets the atmosphere.
Plip.
Plip.
Mysterious droplets descend upon the tranquil surface of the water—not from rain, but resembling tears wept by a grieving sky. As mist begins to seep in from the shadowy trees lining the riverbank, it thickens slowly, enveloping everything in a dense shroud, amplifying the heart-wrenching ambiance.
Rinoa's frantic gaze darts around, her heart heavy with fear, as if ominous shadows lurk in every darkened corner of her vision.
"Fitran… there's something around us!" she whispers urgently, her voice barely a breath, strangled by the weight of tension saturating the air.
Fitran, caught in a half-conscious state, attempts to rise despite the heavy burden of his body. Rinoa's hand shoots out, anxiously restraining him with a grip that speaks of her desperation.
"Don't… you haven't recovered, I will—"
But before she can finish her plea, the sounds around them vanish. They don't merely fade; they are completely gone, as if an unseen force has snatched the essence of sound from the world, leaving a suffocating silence that amplifies the chilling panic amidst the encroaching fog.
From within the thick, hanging fog, something began to stir slowly, as if it were lifting the nearly collapsed pillar of hope. Out of the mist, a mysterious shape began to take form—an enigmatic, swirling vortex that glowed faintly, hovering with a terrifying, graceful elegance. It pulsed rhythmically, mirroring the frantic heartbeat of fear echoing in their chests. This was Nymbrax, a legendary creature seemingly forged from a haunting fusion of black and deep blue mist. It coiled magnificently, its immense size reminiscent of a cloud that had long ago lost its original shape and purpose. The surface of its being shimmered with an otherworldly glow, radiating a mystic aura that tantalized the senses. Yet, the wet, sticky texture that enveloped its form sent chills through the air, making each inhalation feel like frost clinging to one's skin, freezing every ounce of courage.
Nymbrax.
A legendary creature looming at the borders of the mortal realm, Nymbrax embodies the essence of despair, thriving on the silence of sound and the weight of unspoken emotions, as it mercilessly claims lives one by one.
Fitran squinted, feeling every heartbeat quiver with paralyzing uncertainty. Though his body screamed in refusal and his veins felt near empty, he grasped Excalibur once more with unwavering determination. The sword's blade trembled in his hand, a shimmering reflection of the thick tension that draped around them like a fog on a frigid winter night. "Night's light," he murmured softly, channeling a magic that resonated through the steel, causing it to vibrate in harmony with the rising blaze of his heartbeat. A soft blue aura cloaked Excalibur, forming a luminous shield that pulsed in synchrony with the burgeoning spirit within him.
"I…" he whispered hoarsely, "...won't let you… touch Rinoa."
In a state of deep anxiety, Rinoa clung tightly to Fitran's back, a fragile lifeline amid the encroaching darkness. "Fitran, please… don't push yourself… I can fight! We can escape!" Her voice trembled, an unsettling blend of hope and fear flowing from her as she tried to sway him from the perilous path unfolding before them.
With a nearly imperceptible smile, Fitran's silvery eyes shone with fierce resolve, a bright beacon against the looming despair. "I must protect you, Rinoa… I want to be the answer to the word 'always' that you spoke that night."
With all his strength, Fitran stood steadfast between Nymbrax and Rinoa, as if he were a stalwart shield against the impending threat, ready to confront the menacing ethereal creature head-on.
Nymbrax, an ethereal figure towering over them, was an enigmatic presence composed of swirling dark gray mist, reminiscent of turbulent waters, pulsating with a life of its own. Its body shimmered enticingly with flecks of luminous blue light, gliding gracefully like distant stars caught in a tempest, each fleck suggesting the depth of mysteries lurking within its essence. The mist surged and twisted, taking on the form of a dagger of water, seemingly ready to engulf them both in eternal silence.
With a commanding grace, Fitran brought Excalibur down onto the ground, forming a protective circle that radiated a soothing light around Rinoa. Drawing upon the vibrant magic of Sword Magic, he infused the circle with the fiery energy brimming within the sword, illuminating the space with an enchanting aura that repelled Nymbrax's sinister misty advance, granting them a fragile moment of safety amidst the oppressive uncertainty.
"Stay in the circle," he whispered, his voice a blend of firmness and gentleness, embodying a spirit of unwavering resolve. With fierce determination shining from his eyes, he took a bold step forward, confronting the living fog that now wavered, cloaked in an ominous gray hue. The mist was shrouded in a delicate veil of water, which caught and refracted the surrounding light, giving off a shimmering brilliance that crafted an enchanting illusion, intensifying the already charged atmosphere. Before him loomed Nymbrax, a colossal entity that towered over any ordinary human, swirling menacingly in a perilous ballet. Its deep blue body mirrored the depths of an unfathomable abyss, interspersed with glimmers of mossy green that flickered like stars as dusk began to settle. Its texture was an unsettling combination of invitingly soft fog intertwined with thick, threatening currents, twisting gracefully like a venomous dagger, its appearance akin to ferocious fangs poised to ravenously devour all life within reach.
Nymbrax unleashed its fury with thick whips of water that lashed out towards Fitran, each strike sending dark ripples cascading through the air, shaking the very essence of their surroundings. With every approach of the whip, the world around them began to fade into a haunting silence—the rushing river's roar, the gentle rustle of leaves, even their own breaths… all swallowed by an overwhelming stillness, laden with the weight of an impending threat that loomed too large to ignore.
However, Fitran clung to hope amid the chaos. With Excalibur radiating a brilliant light, he unleashed a wave of silent illumination that pulsed rhythmically, cutting through the dense fog and piercing the oppressive darkness like the dawn's first light breaking over the horizon. The felinity surrounding him quivered in response, vibrating through the air with a surge of raw energy that amplified his magic. In a hazy state of half-consciousness, he murmured the ancient incantation, "Sword Magic: Requiem Tempestus, grant me the strength to fight this darkness!"
Yet, even as his resolve blazed bright, Fitran's body waned under the weight of exhaustion. Each passing second became a heavy anchor, dragging him closer to despair. His legs wobbled, and fresh blood oozed from the corner of his mouth, a grim testament to his extraordinary struggle. With every swing of his sword, he defied the relentless pull of gravity, as if the very essence of the universe conspired to plunge him into the consuming void.
"I... am the voice you trust, Rinoa... I will sing, even in death," he declared, his voice quaking yet suffused with a fierce determination that burned brightly against the encroaching dark.
Nymbrax, a creature cloaked in a mist that shimmered with dark blue and vibrant purple hues reminiscent of distant stars, launched a fearsome attack. It manifested as a swirling mass of light—a radiant vortex that spun like a miniature galaxy. From this chaos, massive fangs and claws formed, ready to shroud Fitran in an eternity of darkness. Towering and imposing, with a texture that struck a balance between soft yet terrifying, Nymbrax glided through the air, evoking the unsettling elegance of a nightmare brought to life.
Fitran closed his eyes, summoning every last ounce of his strength for a decisive strike.
"Sword Magic: Vox Caeli Ultimatum!"
(Ultimatum of the Sky's Voice.)
This strike transcended a mere attack on Nymbrax.
It cleaved through the dark mist enveloping the creature, shattering the night's oppressive silence with an explosive burst of shimmering starlight, and liberating the once-captive voices of the world. An eruption of jubilant birdsong filled the air, accompanied by the soft murmur of a flowing river and the gentle whisper of wind weaving through the trees—all returning to reclaim the shadowy forest.
Nymbrax, once a silent sentinel now consumed by the shadows of defeat, unleashed a muted roar. Its form began to disintegrate into sparkling droplets, ultimately coalescing into a thin mist that was absorbed back into the ancient roots of the earth.
Fitran fell.
Excalibur was flung from his hand, landing with a resounding clang several meters away, the sound echoing through the somber stillness of the forest. Fitran's body slammed against the unforgiving ground, almost motionless, as if his very soul had slipped away into the dark, silent abyss around him.
Rinoa rushed to him, her heart heavy with deep worry, every beat echoing her fear. She knelt beside Fitran's cold body, sweat and blood mingling on the fading earth, creating a poignant tapestry of their struggle. With profound sorrow, she embraced Fitran, who now felt like stone—cold and lifeless, a stark contrast to the warmth of their shared moments.
"Fitran… why did you have to be so foolish…?" she sobbed, her tears falling one by one, each drop soaking the ground around them, an overwhelming testament to her unbearable grief.
But in the fleeting moments of clarity, Fitran managed a gentle smile, a soft light breaking through the suffocating darkness. His weak fingers fluttered towards Rinoa's cheek, a tender gesture that spoke of everlasting love, a love that would never wane, even as the shadows began to entwine them.
"Because loving you… means never hesitating to stand… even against the world," he whispered, his voice raspy yet resonant, his words a mantra reverberating through the engulfing blackness.
And then, as the world around him faded to black, Rinoa held him close—clinging to the hope that her love could rekindle his nearly extinguished spirit and keep the ember of hope alive amidst the relentless storm of sorrow.