"I am dreaming," Fitran said as he opened his eyes, his gaze sharp and filled with deceit. "However, sometimes, dreams can serve as reminders. In the midst of this battle, I long for Nobuzan." A cynical smile crossed his lips, as if he held a plan within his mind.
"I have become weak..."
The clash of spiral explosions and nullfire had rendered Fitran unconscious for several seconds. Yet that dream felt so vivid to him, as if it were pulling him into darkness. In his vision, he witnessed the silhouette of Nobuzan amid the debris, like a star lost in the night.
Smoke shrouded the sky of Yamato, transforming the main city into nothing more than a labyrinth of rubble, violet-blue flames, and wild souls howling without form. "Surrender," Fitran whispered to the trapped souls, "there is always a way out, if you are willing to see it." The spiral rain was no longer just a memory—it carried sparks, igniting the remnants of hope and fear among the ruins.
Takeshi, breathless and struggling, held back a tightness in his chest as he ran through the fog of spirits. "Saburo! The city has fallen! The spiral is igniting at every corner—what must we do?" he shouted, his voice laced with anxiety, unaware that Fitran was watching, relishing the uncertainty around him.
Saburo, supporting Kaoru whose body was smeared with blood, her gaze no longer recognized the future
“Get everyone out through the gate! Don’t ask who’s left behind—if they’re still here, the spiral will consume everything!”
Mira, her face full of wounds, guided Fumi and Eri who were crying
“Hold my hand! Don’t look back! Call your names, don’t stop!”
Fitran collapsed in the midst of rubble, blood and sweat soaking his body. The void runes on his skin throbbed wildly, holding back the thin veil between the world and the void. Izanagi hovered above, the Genesis Katana glowing, her body half spiral, half shadow. Below, spiral fire rained down, burning district after district, the souls screaming—their voices blending in an uncontrollable magitek storm.
Izanagi, her voice booming, her body shining in the shattered sky
“I have already told you, Fitran! Yamato will return to the spiral! There is nothing left, except the eternal void!”
Fitran, breathing heavily, stood unsteadily, the light in his eyes reflecting the flames
“Ah, Izanagi, how can we let everything crumble without a fight? The void is beautiful, but there is something more painful than eternal awakening. Don’t you want to witness every remaining soul struggle? Or would you rather see them die without resistance?”
The magitek panels exploded, homes and markets torn apart by spirals of fire. Fitran dragged his steps toward the center of destruction, raising his bloodied hand—drawing the greatest void rune of his life, spinning circles absorbing spiral magic from the air, the ground, and the tumultuous souls. Each stroke emitted a glimmer of darkness, as if a cry for salvation or destruction.
Fitran, a sly smile adorning his face, his body cloaked in magical light
“Look, Izanagi! In this final moment, we can change everything. Do you believe that the winds of hope can still blow? Or do you simply wish to drown in bitterness?”
Izanagi, stunned, her gaze suspicious
“Do you dare challenge fate, Fitran? Yet at the edge of darkness, do not expect any light for you!”
Fitran, his eyes shining with wicked plans, resolute
“Fate is nothing but an illusion, Izanagi. And I... I will reshape it. Void Resonance Collapse!
—Enclose all spirals. I’ll pay with blood and soul, and I will make the world see how beautiful the void is!”
The voices of the world—the cries of refugees, whispers of hope, howls of fear—merged into the ultimate spell, echoing in a spiral of sound that danced around Fitran.
Fitran, his voice hoarse, the ultimate spell, his entire body trembling
“Void Resonance Collapse!
—Enclose all spirals. I pay with bl
The voices of the world—screams of refugees, whispers of hope, howls of fear—entered the ultimate incantation, echoing in a spiral of sounds that danced around Fitran. He gripped the void rune tightly, his eyes sharp as he focused on the emptiness before him. “They do not understand,” he said, his voice hoarse, one corner of his lips curling cynically, “chaos is the path to my salvation.”
Fitran, with a hoarse voice, the ultimate incantation, his entire body trembling, raised his hand boldly
“Void Resonance Collapse!
—Enclose all spirals. I pay with this land.
Let Yamato lose its form, as long as one name survives the emptiness—that is enough!”
Izanagi, cleaving the sky with the Genesis Katana, red spirals sliced through the clouds, a taunting laughter escaped her lips
“No prison can hold the Origin Spiral! You are merely delaying the end, Fitran!”
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The void rune exploded from the ground, forming a gigantic dome that engulfed the entire capital city. The spiral flames were drawn to the center, Izanagi trapped in chains of runes and shards of nullfire, staggering in the air, the Genesis Katana bouncing off the walls of the void prison. The spiral flames swept away homes, fields, every block and district vanished into the resonance of the void—earth shattered, becoming a black abyss. Observing the destruction, Fitran cast his gaze around, his heart racing, “Let it be like this, Izanagi. Your power means nothing without control. Look, all the ghosts surround you.”
Takeshi, dragged by the dust, held back tears, screaming in despair
“The capital city—gone! Everything we knew… vanished!”
Saburo, gripping the broken spear, his voice faint, his face grim, glanced at Fitran with suspicion
“Fitran… she truly chose to sacrifice everything. If she fails, the world is finished. If she succeeds, we might never be able to return.”
Within the void dome, Izanagi roared, her spiral aura thrashing.
“I will not be imprisoned! I am the eternal spiral!”
Fitran, standing with his back to Izanagi, wore a cynical smile,
“Or perhaps, you are simply trapped in a spiral of despair.”
Yet, with every scream, every slash of the Genesis Katana only thickened the void prison, turning it into a silent space, a realm without end. Shadows of names, hopes, and sins began to be locked away one by one.
Fitran, coldly surveying his surroundings, emphasized every word,
“It seems change is not foreign to you, is it? Nothing is eternal but this emptiness.”
Fitran, standing unsteadily in the midst of the vanishing ritual circle, blood dripping to the ground,
“If the world must burn, let me be a witness. Let all the weak be swept into the flames.
Void Resonance—Seal.”
The last light of the capital city flickered and then went out. Spiral, the soul, and Izanagi were swallowed by the nullfire prison, disappearing into a silent crater without a sound. Outside the radius of destruction, the survivors gazed at a world that had lost half its soul.
Mira, holding back her sobs, whispered to Fumi and Eri,
“Remember… his name is Fitran Fate. Don’t let his name fade away amidst the flames and spiral.”
Fumi, tears streaming down her face, hugged Eri tightly,
“Fitran… we must not forget what he did… We have to fight!”
On the edge of destruction, Takeshi and Saburo led the remaining humans, no longer carrying complete hope—only names left on their tongues.
Takeshi, staring at the pitch-black void dome, his voice like ash,
“We… have truly lost our home. But if one name survives, perhaps the world can begin anew.”
Fitran, with a chilling laugh, revealed a shadow behind the emptiness,
“This world belongs only to those unafraid of darkness. Let us see if they are worthy.”
Saburo, gazing into the distance, her voice flat, filled with wounds,
“There are no heroes in the apocalypse, only writers too stubborn to be forgotten. And you, Fitran, who exactly are you?”
Fitran, grinning widely, his eyes sparkling,
“I am the record of life that you still read. When the dust settles, remember that hidden within me is all truth.”
At the edge of the crater, Mira, Fumi, and Eri sat in each other's embrace, whispering the names they remembered. Every voice became a small candle in the storm, refusing to be extinguished.
In the heart of the void dome, Fitran stood alone. His body began to fade into the spiral cracks—runes of the void on his form glowed, then one by one dimmed. The world around him was empty, only remnants of spell sounds and spirit whispers lingered. Izanagi, locked inside, gazed at Fitran—half of her shattered, the other half eternal as a prison.
Izanagi, her voice faint, nearly hollow
“If you endure here, Fitran… the world will lose its last hero. No one remembers except for the new spiral…”
Fitran, looking at Izanagi coldly, his smile hinted at a cynical delight, "Is that really a problem? The world only needs the right story to forget its sorrow. And tell me, who remembers a hero when fear and hope take turns in a single breath?"
Izanagi, narrowing her gaze, "You betray your own purpose. Courage must be remembered, Fitran."
Fitran, shrugging, "Courage? Or foolishness? If everyone offers their soul, who is left to rewrite this tale? Let them think of me as evil, while I am merely a scribe in the shadows."
Izanagi, smiling sadly, her body beginning to fade, "Perhaps… emptiness is indeed a price worth paying."
Fitran, closing his eyes, his last voice drowned in silence, "The world rewrites itself. I am merely ink that refuses to dry, even if it means using blood."
With swift movement, Fitran flowed like a shadow, each of his steps followed by a dark aura that intimidated. He spread his arms, summoning the swirling void energy, creating a flash of magic that glimmered—at that moment, black mist enveloped the surroundings, as if bringing a shroud of death. The nullfire prison sealed perfectly. The world outside the dome was utterly different: half of Yamato vanished into the void, yet the name—Fitran Fate—continued to echo among the surviving humans.
Days turned to nights, and nights back to mornings. The city had transformed into a field of wounds and black craters. Yet human voices grew again, one name after another, writing new hope upon the ruins and devastation.
Fitran stood amidst the rubble, his gaze sharp, like a predator ready to pounce. "Welcome to the end of the world," he said with a sardonic tone, his smile concealing a secret. "Do you still believe in miracles?" His voice flowed gently, yet his words were like poison slowly settling in the minds of listeners.
She moved her hands, unleashing waves of dark energy that danced around her body, emanating an aura of fear. "This world is a game, and I am merely a pawn moving the other pieces," she continued with a soft laugh. "Don't worry, I will ensure you still have what you desire, no matter how elusive it may be." Her voice pierced the silence of the night, "Are you ready to take the risk for your dreams?"
Fitran—whether alive or buried along with the spiral of Izanagi—had paid the highest price. He didn't need to be a hero; he didn't need to be remembered. "Remember," he said enticingly, "one name that endures can forge a legend, even if it belongs to a monster who sacrificed everything for a second chance for the world." With each word spoken, dark shadows danced around him, depicting the grim journey he had endured. As he stepped forward, the ruined city behind him seemed to tremble, as if everything quaked in resonance with his footsteps.
