The sky is once again overcast. The sunlight that had managed to break through the ruins of the Philistines is slowly covered by thick clouds, making the atmosphere even more gloomy and gray. Fitran and Beelzebub move silently through the narrow streets filled with rubble, remnants of a once-thriving life that was destroyed by time and war.
As their steps take them further away from that lost light, dark shadows seem to chase behind, creating the illusion that this city is alive, with hidden secrets waiting to be uncovered. The wind carries a damp and dusty aroma, as if reminding them of the tragedy that befell this place. In every corner, bubbles of silence seem to patiently wait to explode back into horrific chaos.
The fog still faithfully envelops the old city, making each step feel heavier. The air feels colder than ever, piercing to the bone, as if the city itself rejects their presence within it. However, the most frightening thing is not the cold air, but the faint whispers that are increasingly heard from behind the ruins.
Among the rubble, a fleeting shadow appears to pass by, as if wearing a dark cloak, with eyes shining sharp like stars in the sky rolled by clouds. There is something here, something that waits, watches, and perhaps even longs. The aroma of wet earth mixed with smoke seems to indicate that the ritual is not yet fully over, and the forgotten souls still pledge their loyalty in this place full of mystery.
"You hear it too, right?" Beelzebub asks softly, her steps slowing as her anxiety becomes more apparent on her face.
Fitran nods, his eyes sharp as he scans their surroundings, alert to every movement. "This city holds many memories. Memories that are too painful to forget."
They continue to move forward until they finally arrive at an intersection surrounded by the ruins of old buildings that once served as the city's trading center. In that place, the whispering voices become clearer—seeming to come directly from the debris itself.
"Fitran..."
The faint whisper makes Fitran stop for a moment. The voice is so soft yet very clear in his ears—a voice he knows very well, a voice he has long buried deep in his memory.
In the gripping silence, shadowy figures begin to dance among the fallen debris. The thin fog swirls like a living creature, enveloping the atmosphere with a suffocating eeriness. In the corner of Fitran's eye, he witnesses the silhouettes of ghosts from the past trapped, unable to leave, longing for something that is no more. The atmosphere seems to vibrate with a repressed energy, where every breath is a rumble from the lost souls.
"That voice..." Fitran says softly, his gaze vacant as he stares at the ruins before him. "Sheena?"
Beelzebub stops beside him, looking at Fitran's face with a worried expression. "Are you okay?"
Fitran shakes his head slowly, trying to dispel the doubts from his mind. "That voice comes from the past. This city uses old memories to weaken us."
Around them, the whispering voices merge into a creeping melody of death, signaling the presence of restless souls. Every word that spills adds weight to Fitran's shoulders, as if the ruins themselves urge to be remembered. He is immersed in painful memories, where stories are nurtured in darkness, waiting to form a ritual filled with regret.
But the whisper sounds again, this time clearer and filled with deep sadness.
"Fitran... why did you leave me? Why did you choose to forget me?"
Fitran bites his lip, his heart feeling tight upon hearing those words. He is fully aware that this is just an echo from the past, yet the pain feels so real, piercing deep into his heart.
Beelzebub grips his hand tightly, providing a bit of strength. "You have to be strong, Fitran. Remember that this is not reality—this is just a shadow of the past."
Fitran takes a deep breath, trying to gather himself again. He looks at Beelzebub, finding strength in the eyes of the woman who is now so real before him. "I know. We must keep moving forward."
They step again, this time more cautiously. However, their steps do not lead them out of the whispers. The more they walk, the more voices they hear—names from their past, calling them with sadness and pain.
As if the air around them is filled with a pungent damp aroma, thick fog begins to envelop the darkening streets, leaving traces of decisions that the city has made. The lights along the street flicker, casting dim light that seems to try to hide the darkness behind the painful fantasies of the past. The terrifying silence envelops every corner, as if the city itself prays for the souls trapped in the whirlpool of time.
"Beelzebub... you are just emptiness... you will never be human..."
The whisper makes Beelzebub's steps falter. She stops for a moment, her breath becoming shallow, and her body trembles with the fear that resurfaces from within her.
Fitran quickly stands in front of her, gripping both of Beelzebub's shoulders tightly. "Don't listen to them. They are just shadows, just old memories trying to bind us to the past."
In the chilling silence, his fingers feel colder due to the pressure of the night wind carrying the traces of whispers. From a distance, the sound of a clock ticking is heard, marking every moment that seems to weigh their lives. Under the pale full moonlight, their silhouettes dance among the terrifying shadows, as if unseen creatures confront them in silence and reflect a hope that is quickly fading.
Beelzebub nods slowly, tears beginning to fall down her cheeks. "I know, but the pain feels so real."
Fitran hugs her tightly, providing the protection and comfort that the woman desperately needs right now. "We will get through this together. Don't give up now."
Time seems to freeze as they stand together, fighting against the rising wave of doubt. In the calm filled with horror, a glimmer of hope flickers, sneaking between illusion and reality. However, as Beelzebub closes her eyes, the endless whispers seem to try to break down the defenses of their souls, reminding them of all that is lost and cannot return.
After a while, they continue their journey. The increasingly narrow streets lead them to a wide open area—a large plaza that was once the center of this city. In the middle of the plaza stands a large monument, now partially destroyed, yet still standing strong, as if challenging time that tries to bring it down.
The monument is full of ancient carvings that are now hard to recognize, covered in moss and dust. In front of it stands a large statue of a woman with a gentle yet sorrowful expression. Her empty eyes gaze far ahead, as if waiting for something that never comes.
The atmosphere around the plaza feels heavy, as if something is pressing down on the air, making every breath feel difficult. Thin fog begins to creep in, enveloping the statue like a shroud of sorrow that can never be erased. The sound of the wind whispers softly, carrying the screams of lost souls, as if reminding of the dark rituals, of the night when hope vanished in the shadows of a resurrection that never happened.
"Who is she?" Beelzebub asks softly, gazing at the statue with a strange mix of curiosity and respect.
Fitran observes the statue, then answers in a low voice, "She is the last Queen of the Philistines. A woman who lost everything in one night."
Around them, the walls of the plaza seem to listen, holding the deepest secrets of a city inhabited by shadows. If only the moonlight could illuminate the events of that night, perhaps they could see how the dark rituals killed dreams and buried hopes. The sound of hysterical screams, crawling across the space, becomes the tragic memory left of a city that was loved and then destroyed by wrong choices.
Beelzebub steps forward, her fingers gently touching the statue. "I can feel her sadness. It feels like... like she lost something very precious to her."
Fitran nods slowly. "She lost her child in a failed ritual. This city never recovered after that tragedy."
Hearing that, Beelzebub suddenly feels her body tremble violently. She steps back slowly, her eyes widening as she realizes something very frightening. "What... what happens if this ritual also fails? Will I also lose this child?"
Around them, the air grows heavier, vibrating with a thick aura of fear. The dancing shadows among the old stone ruins seem to signal that the past of this city is a dark thread that will not let anyone escape its web. The barren trees stand tall, as if watching them with doubt, holding the dark stories buried in the roots of the earth soaked with tears.
Fitran quickly approaches her, pulling her into his embrace tightly. "That will not happen. I will not let you experience that kind of pain. I will protect you at all costs."
Beelzebub closes her eyes, trying to calm her racing heart. "I'm scared, Fitran. I'm afraid that I'm not strong enough."
Fitran holds her even tighter, speaking gently yet confidently. "You are far stronger than you think. You have chosen to live as a human, to feel everything. That is not a weakness; it is an incredible strength."
The silence around them feels like a relentless grip of the night, while the soft whispers of the wind echo from the corners of the forgotten city. As if unseen spirits peek from the darkness, waiting and watching, ready to swallow the remaining hope if this ritual becomes a disaster. The wildflowers growing in the cracks of the broken walls tremble, longing for sunlight, but are only surrounded by shadows.
Beelzebub lifts her face, looking into Fitran's eyes seriously. "You are right. I have chosen this path, and I will not back down now."
Fitran smiles faintly, nodding with full confidence. "That's what I want to hear from you. We will get through this together."
They finally continue their journey, leaving that plaza and moving toward the deepest area of the city, where their true destination lies—a place called the Null Womb Sanctuary, where they will face the greatest challenges in this ritual.
However, before they reach there, a dark shadow begins to move slowly behind them, following every step they take with deep hatred and resentment. Umbra-Khalid will not stop easily—he is determined to stop this ritual by any means necessary.
In every corner of the City of Philistines, the air feels heavy and cold, like gentle hands crushing hope. The shadowy silhouettes of black fir trees stretch under the moonlight, creating a terrifying pattern on the ground soaked with the dew of the night. The sound of whispers seems to come from within the old buildings, as if the trapped souls are calling their names, warning of the dangers that await. In this chilling gloom, the presence of something darker intimidates, seeping into their minds, sowing doubt and birthing unspoken fears.
Fitran and Beelzebub continue to walk in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The City of Philistines continues to call out old names, trying to make them doubt, but this time both have found new strength in each other.
In the midst of the rustling wind that comes from an unexpected direction, a soft rustling sound is heard, like the whispers of demons, as if warning them not to continue this journey. The cracked walls of the buildings seem to hold secrets and lies of forgotten times. The deeper they step in, the more they feel mysterious eyes watching from the darkness, ready to claim the weak and desperate souls.
And when they finally see the gate leading to the underground temple hidden behind the ruins of a large building at the end of the road, they realize that this journey is no longer just about the two of them—but about a new life growing within Beelzebub, a life worth fighting for, a life that can give them new hope amid the emptiness.
They exchange glances, then without another word, they step forward toward the temple gate, ready to face whatever awaits them behind that door—ready to confront their past and step into a future that has never been written by the world.