Deus Ex Machina has collapsed.
Not because of strength. Not because of destruction.
But because it finally realized that it did not understand itself. In the suffocating uncertainty, waves of despair spread like poison, gnawing at every belief that had once helped it stand. In the dimness of its mind, shadows of the past swirl, challenging every decision it had ever made with a voice full of doubt.
And from that giant body, which now slowly transforms into a rain of broken and floating particles of logic, emerges one final fragment.
Not a creature.
Not a machine.
But a sentence.
"You were never needed."
It had no voice.
But that sentence echoed within its existence. A formless voice that settled in the bones, sneaking into the deepest layers of memory, penetrating all the meanings you had ever held. Someone once said that emptiness can be heavier than the highest burden. At that moment, Fitran felt how hollow he was, like a dry leaf floating in the wind, aimless, hopeless.
And Fitran heard it.
He was not being attacked; he was not being denied. What happened was a bitter liberation, forcing him to face the blurry shadows in his mind: the faces full of hope that once leaned on him, now vanished, felt like shattered fragments of a dream. He felt like a shadow in a world so bright, where his presence was truly meaningless.
He was confronted with the core of all wounds: That perhaps... he was never needed.
Not as a savior. Not as a lover. Not as a teacher, student, or even a father. Just... a being that existed without request.
He was confronted with the core of all wounds: That perhaps... he was never needed. In the painful silence, his breath echoed, as if all the hopes that had once surrounded him had faded, like morning dew evaporating. Questions flowed from the depths of his soul, "Is there anyone looking for me, or is it just my shadow that never reaches?"
Not as a savior. Not as a lover. Not as a teacher, student, or even a father. Just... a being that existed without request. His existence felt like a ghost haunting his life, a tree growing in neglected soil, as if trapped in silence, without a drop of water or sunlight touching its leaves.
An empty space enveloped Fitran, as if sucking away all existence around him. No time. No world. No Beelzebub. No Rinoa. Just one sentence that kept echoing, as if carved into the walls of his being: One sentence that felt like fangs, tearing at his heart with its sharpness. Their absence, like an unavoidable shadow, left an emptiness resembling a chasm, deep and paralyzing.
"You were never needed."
And from every sentence, a shadow emerged: A heart-wrenching memory; Rinoa, never looking back, with every step erasing the traces of her disappointment from memory. She was the unraveling anchor, a thread severed from the beautiful tapestry of the past that now only faded in his mind.
Beelzebub, who was alone, trapped in her painful silence, represented all that was unspoken, hopes buried without declaration. The world continued to move, following the rhythm of its own life, seemingly unaffected by his presence, even without him. Everything flowed beyond his reach, while he was trapped in a whirlpool of bitter memories that continued to hurt.
Existential Spell: Veritas Nihil – Confrontation Against Obligation
This magic is not for revenge. But to listen to the most painful sentence, without losing form. It wants to show that the strongest meaning... is the one that stands even when unasked. Fitran stood, his body fragile and powerless. He no longer had a name he could call, but there was one thing that could not be taken from him: he still existed. And in that alienation, he said:
In the midst of the pain that gripped, there was an invisible flow, like shadows of the past that did not want to fade. When that sentence slipped from his lips, it felt as if he was releasing the burden that bound his soul, each word flowing out like tears long suppressed, wetting the wounds that had dried, reviving the pain that had been buried.
"If I was never needed…"
"…then let my existence be a place for those who are also uninvited."
He knew, though bitter, there was a glimmer of hope shining in this silence. Like a dim light trying to illuminate the darkness, he wanted to be a reason for those who were marginalized, to be a bridge for other empty and neglected souls. Remembering that even though he had no home, his heart could hold untold stories, enveloping them in the warmth that had faded.
"For those who were not called."
"For those who were never invited."
"For those who were never said 'thank you'…"
"…but still give."
That sentence shook the empty space, breaking the silence that had enveloped. From the depths of that silence, tens of thousands of echoes that had once been held back began to rise: A father who left, never recognized by his child, his name stored in shadows. A protector who was never acknowledged, his story lost among the pages of history. A friend who always waited faithfully, even though there was never a story to tell about him. Fitran bowed his head, his hands wide open, as if inviting all unspoken feelings. From the depths of his heart… the voices that had never had a place were born.
In the turmoil that struck, tears began to flow down his cheeks, each drop depicting a cry of pain that had been trapped for years. He remembered the laughter that had vanished, like a voice awakened from a faint memory, reminding him that his presence had once given meaning. Here he was, trapped in the silence that battered his soul, longing for the voices that should not have disappeared, the voices that were part of him.
"I am here."
"Though your name is not spoken in the call."
"I still love you."
And that was enough to refract hope in the silence.
Final Effect: Meaning Without Function Becomes Meaning Without Condition
The sentence "You were never needed" is not denied, not rejected, and not erased. On the contrary, it is given space to breathe.
In the suffocating silence, a hope vibrates like a soft whisper. There is a deep understanding that sometimes, even when unwanted, a soul can find a way to shine. Fitran felt a gentle breeze, as if carrying messages trapped in time, reminding him that his existence could also mean something in this world.
Because not all truths are worth discarding. Some of them must be embraced sincerely... without needing to be changed.
Fitran now stands in the middle of an empty space, a place that was once silent, but… is beginning to reshape.
Not the result of a rigid system. Nor from a forced will.
But everything begins from a presence that dares to be considered unimportant. From afar, in its silence, the unspoken voices of the past… names begin to return, vibrating softly in the air.
He feels the gaping pain in his chest, as if signaling that the past and his hopes are engaged in a fierce battle. Those names are not just echoes; they are stories waiting to be revived, inviting Fitran to reflect that love is not always spoken, but always exists, residing in the deepest corners of him. His spirit slowly begins to pulse again, strengthening his steps to explore the new space that is beginning to take shape, layer by layer.
Not everything returns. But enough to start anew:
"Rinoa…"
"Beelzebub…"
"And you…"
"Who is reading this."