9 Months After Origin Decent
The morning fog crawled low over the shattered ground, obscuring much of the view of the ruins of a once-mighty city on Earth. The sun had just pierced the gray sky, sending pale rays resembling the last breath of the world. In the midst of that somber tranquility, two figures slowly emerged from the end of a dusty path—they stopped right in front of the long-abandoned gate.
Fitran stared at the large door, standing with a vacant gaze. He had grown accustomed to ruins—but this time, something felt different. He glanced sideways, looking at the figure of a golden-haired woman standing silently beside him. Beelzebub gazed at the gate in silence. Her golden hair shimmered dimly in the morning sunlight, but her expression held something that even Fitran dared not ask.
For a moment, a heavy silence hung in the air, flowing slowly like the fog that enveloped the streets. Fitran felt a deep uncertainty from Beelzebub, like a silent wave trying to crash against the cliffs of his heart. As he looked at her, he felt as if there was an ocean of secrets behind her swollen eyes, ready to sink or float to the surface with just one simple question.
"Why did you bring me here?" Fitran finally asked, his voice soft yet piercing like the cold morning wind.
Calmly, Beelzebub replied, "This place is a reflection of all that is lost," her distant voice awakening forgotten memories. "Here, we can see what remains of hope, behind the ruins that never cease to tell their story." Fitran felt warmth in her words even though her lips remained frozen, like ice shadowed by the sun's rays. He could not ignore the unsettling sense of peace, as if Beelzebub was a light shining in the darkness of a world that once was so bright.
Beelzebub turned, as if just awakening from her reverie. She did not answer immediately but instead diverted her gaze to the ancient carvings that adorned the gate—symbols of Proto-Speech worn by time. Her fingers touched the cold stone, as if trying to hear something from behind the silence. A gentle breeze blew around them, carrying the scent of dust and forgotten memories. It was as if the world around them had fallen silent, leaving only the soft sounds of hearts frozen between doubt and desire.
"I want to know," Beelzebub answered softly, almost like a whisper. "I want to know what it feels like to be human."
Fitran furrowed his brow. "Human? You?"
"Yes," Beelzebub replied without hesitation, this time looking directly into Fitran's eyes. Her yellow eyes glowed dimly in the hazy morning. "I want to feel what she felt—what you all felt."
Her words brought faint images of Rinoa and Sheena to Fitran's mind. He knew who Beelzebub was referring to—he also understood the deeper meaning of that statement. However, Fitran said nothing. He remained silent, waiting for Beelzebub to continue. The isolation surrounding them felt like the dark sky after a storm, but there was a glimmer of hope peeking through the clouds. In that silence, they both felt an unexpected emotional bridge, as if new life was growing between them.
"I want to know… what it feels like to love someone so much that you are willing to create new life within your own body," Beelzebub continued with a trembling voice. "I want to know… what it means to be 'a mother.'"
Fitran felt something stir in his chest, but he chose to remain silent. Those words had no place for a response. He never expected something like this to come from the mouth of a being he had always known as absolute emptiness. In their unexpected journey, Fitran questioned their purpose—was it to find what was lost, or to coax new light into the darkness?
Beelzebub turned back to the gate and began to step forward, touching the Proto-Speech carvings in the stone. Her hand stopped at a particular cracked symbol. The symbol meant 'will,' but it was broken in half—as if the world itself was uncertain about the will intended by its creators.
A dim light illuminated Beelzebub's face, reflecting the shadow of her dark past. In every line on her face lay the empty stories of unfulfilled desires. She felt a peace touching her soul, the crack in the symbol seemed to mirror her own uncertainty. With each passing second, the weight of history seemed to demand an awaited answer.
"This city holds the secrets of ancient rituals," Beelzebub said, her gaze vacant as she stared at the cracked symbol. "The humans who once lived here tried to bring higher spirits into mortal bodies. They failed… time and time again. But they left a Babylonian altar in the Acropolis, which still holds traces of those rituals."
Fitran pondered every word that came from Beelzebub's mouth. Uncertainty clouded his mind like thick fog as morning approached. Observing Beelzebub's proud yet fragile figure, he felt as if he were trapped in the whispers of the wind that moved from one decade to another, carrying with it the noise of forgotten memories. "What caused them to fail?" he asked, more to himself than to Beelzebub.
Fitran took a deep breath, trying to understand the direction of Beelzebub's conversation. "Do you want to try that ritual for yourself?"
Beelzebub nodded slowly. "I want to try it. I want to feel a human body—feel what you all call love, happiness, pain… and fear."
In the depth of her gaze, a shadow of longing for a world long lost flickered. For her, the experience was not merely an experiment; it was a quest for an identity that had long vanished amid the emptiness of time.
"Do you know the risks?" Fitran asked seriously, his tone soft yet heavy. "Such a ritual involves not only the physical but also the soul and existence."
Every word Fitran spoke vibrated in the tension of the air, creating a profound moment between them. Fitran himself felt the same burden, reminding him of his feelings when he stood on the edge of the chasm between hope and emptiness.
Beelzebub smiled faintly—a strange smile, full of doubt yet also hope. "I know. And I know this may be my last madness. But I no longer care about my safety."
Behind her faint smile, a deeper inner struggle arose—a battle between despair and the courage to step into the darkness she had never known. She felt like a musical cue haunting every step, but she could not suppress the longing to find meaning.
Fitran stepped closer to her, holding her hand. "Are you sure?"
Beelzebub paused for a moment before answering, "I have never felt sure in my life—because I have never truly lived. But this time, Fitran, I want to choose."
In Fitran's heart, a desire arose to give Beelzebub all his knowledge and experiences. On their journey, he wanted Beelzebub to know that even though the path was dark, and likely to end in chaos, their presence in this world held more meaning than just a painful ritual.
They both gazed at each other for a long time, in the midst of the silent and cracked gate. Fitran realized that what Beelzebub was asking for was not just a simple request—this was an existential decision that could change the order of reality.
Finally, Fitran nodded slowly. "If that is your will, I will accompany you. But I want you to remember one thing—I cannot guarantee the outcome."
Between them, a strong agreement was rekindled, a bond woven from resisting darkness and uncertainty. In the embracing darkness, they realized that this journey was a bridge to new discoveries—perhaps even towards unexpected miracles.
"I know," Beelzebub replied softly. "I am not asking for guarantees; I just want you by my side."
Fitran took a deep breath. Then, without another word, he stepped forward, pushing open the ancient gate that creaked heavily. The long creaking sound filled the air, echoing across the ruins of the ancient city. Dust and debris fell in a flurry, marking that the path to the city of Philistines was now open again.
Behind him, Beelzebub felt her heart race, as if the call of this ruined city invited her to confront the dark past once more. She remembered her previous life, when smiles and happiness still existed among the ruins that now lay silent.
As the gate fully opened, Fitran and Beelzebub stepped in together into the thick fog of the waiting city. Before them stretched a long road, surrounded by buildings that were damaged yet still held traces of past beauty.
"What are you thinking?" Fitran asked, sensing an aura of doubt surrounding Beelzebub. One glance at her, and Fitran knew that behind her bravery, there was a deep-seated fear hiding.
They walked in silence, in a heavy yet comfortable quiet. Fitran glanced at Beelzebub, who now walked beside him, noticing subtle changes in her face—a slight blush on her cheeks, a gentle tension in her jaw, and a gaze that was much more alive than before.
The release of air into the abandoned world gave Beelzebub a new sensitivity, as if she could feel every gust of wind passing through the ruins. Each step awakened memories, and in that silence, she felt how she had been searching for Fitran's presence amid the encroaching darkness.
Suddenly, from within the fog, a soft yet clear whisper echoed. The small voices seemed to emerge from the cracks in the walls, whispering slowly like lost winds.
"You… should not have come…"
Beelzebub paused for a moment, but Fitran pulled her to keep walking. He held her hand tightly, conveying a sense of calm. Beelzebub felt the warmth of that grip, something she had never experienced before.
In Fitran's grasp, Beelzebub felt a vibrating energy, as if a force ignited a spark of hope within her. She knew that with Fitran, she was not alone in facing the threats lurking behind this fog. There was a strength within them that could fight against all darkness.
"Do you hear it?" Beelzebub asked softly.
Fitran nodded calmly. "Those whispers come from the fragments of this city's memory. They do not like you because you bring something that could change everything—something the world does not want."
Beelzebub stared blankly at the towering ruins, the silence of the wounded city filling her mind. She felt as if she had become a target for the shadows of the past conspiring against her. Her question felt like a necessity, a seed of doubt that grew abundantly in her soul.
"Did I make a mistake by coming here?" Beelzebub asked, doubt beginning to fill her voice again.
Fitran stopped, looking straight into her eyes. "There is no mistake in choosing your own will. You are the only one who has the right to determine whether this is right or wrong."
In that gaze, Beelzebub saw a glimmer of courage, as if Fitran had walked through the same fire and emerged unscathed. The fear that enveloped Beelzebub slowly lifted, replaced by the trust given by the figure beside her.
Beelzebub took a deep breath and smiled faintly. "Thank you," she said softly. "You are the only one who has never feared the emptiness within me."
Those words flowed gently, as if touching the surface of calm water. A warmth began to grow, forming an invisible bond between two souls tied by uncertainty, yet finding strength in their togetherness.
Fitran smiled gently. "Because I know, behind your emptiness, you hold something deeper than anyone I have ever known."
Between them, there seemed to be an unspoken connection. Like two souls finding each other amid the ruins, even though the world around them was wilting and hollow. A gentle breeze carried dust particles dancing in the air, symbolizing the hope that still remained.
They resumed walking together, leaving the whispering gate behind, heading toward the heart of the city that held great secrets—the secrets of human birth from something that is not human.
In their journey, Fitran felt the wave of Beelzebub's presence, like the moonlight piercing through the darkness of night. He wondered what lay hidden behind Beelzebub's dark eyes, whether it was sorrow or forgotten strength. Yet, there was always warmth accompanying him, as if they were bound by an invisible thread that could never be severed.
But behind the fog, far from their sight, a pair of dark red eyes watched every step they took. The figure stood still in the shadows—waiting for the right moment to declare its rejection.
The sound of the wind awakened the tension hidden among the ruins. Every sound of their footsteps, and every spark of light trying to pierce the darkness, made the figure feel increasingly anxious. The sense of rejection that lingered in its heart made it hesitate, yet the desire to change a predetermined fate continued to call to it.
And amid the silent ruins of the city, their existential journey began—a journey toward a birth that had never been written by the systems of the world.
Fitran felt as if he had successfully broken through the boundaries that bound him. He wanted to contribute to the awakening of a new world, even though he did not know how to do it. He and Beelzebub were not just individuals fighting against emptiness; they were hope amid the lurking darkness, penetrators of space and time that had long been trapped.