In the ancient land of Babylon, which has long become ruins, there is one place that has never fallen. A stone altar stands silently at the center of a circular structure: the Babel Altar. It is said that this place was not built by human hands, but formed from the vibrations of the first word ever given meaning.
For thousands of years, no creature has been able to touch that altar. It does not glow, does not shine, does not respond to prayers.
But that night...
...it began to bleed.
The stone in the center of the altar cracked slowly—not due to strength, but because of a conflict of meanings. From its cracks, red liquid flowed, not ordinary blood—but symbolic blood. It flowed like ink, forming unknown glyph patterns, and vibrated softly.
The blood did not come from a human body. It was the consequence of the birth of something that language did not permit.
In the distance, the shadows of the human world began to tremble; uncertainty spread among those who observed the altar. With every drop of blood that flowed, faint voices rose, as if calling the souls trapped in old meanings. Through the silence of the night, a mysterious smile emerged on an unseen entity, as if witnessing the grand drama unfolding.
From these ancient ruins, various circles of the world were affected. Their languages, once binding, now vibrated with new tension, challenging the established boundaries of communication. What is the meaning behind this blood? What will be born from the shattered pieces of symbols? Each flow changed the way they viewed reality, questions shaking their spirits and souls.
In that orange night, the conflict between the visible and the invisible grew more intense. The recesses of belief gaped open, while whispers from the opposing world formed a rhythm of uncertainty. Beelzebub, who was not yet fully known, slowly began to form a bridge between these two worlds, creating a path that might bring more blood, more meaning, and more questions in the future.
There were no prophecies. No magical scripts. No radar, sensing magic, or science that captured the event of Beelzebub's birth.
Even the Earth people, the sorcerers of Atlantis, and Gaia... recorded nothing.
Beelzebub was born outside human language. For she is a half-supernatural, half-human being. And the world had no system to record something that stood between the two.
In its silence, the human world was muted, as if ignoring the call echoing from between the shadows. The language they usually used now felt illusory, distorted by the presence of Beelzebub that challenged the boundaries of understanding. The speakers who played with words like musical instruments that had lost their tone struggled to remain harmonious while a new rhythm began to resonate in their hearts.
From hidden corners, ancient entities that were feared now awakened, accessed with feelings of uncertainty. They sensed the presence of Nicholas, the Eldritch song that sent waves of vibrations throughout, forcing the world to reconsider the meaning of its existence.
But some felt it—creatures not mentioned in history, uninvited to the court of the world.
In a cave at the top of the Salt Tower in Samaria,
A giant serpent that had turned to stone for 12,000 years opened its eyes.
In the deepest lake at the heart of the North Pole,
A three-eyed mermaid cried in silence—and her cry split the layers of ice.
Above the ruins of Castle Hexen,
Three faceless beings gazed at the sky and spoke in unison:
"She has been born. Thus, language is no longer solely the property of humans."
Amidst the silent ruins, ancient voices sang ancient songs, creating a harmony that formed a bridge between the separated realms. Those beings felt the unspoken change and witnessed a new flame flowing through the dry land. In their perspective, Beelzebub's birth was not just a fact; it was a verse rewriting the history that had been severed in the sky.
"Her presence is a call for us all," said one being, "a mantra that dispels the boundaries between the visible and the invisible. The unread book is now reopened, and we must be ready to embrace what is to come." In their view, that moment became like a divine decree demanding participation and understanding of the new meaning of existence.
The Babel Altar writes itself, the blood on the altar forms sentences. Not using Latin letters, or Babylonian scripts. But rather open spiral symbols, followed by an unfinished circle—glyphs of Beelzebub and Virelya.
And beneath it, one sentence flowed in a cutting glyph:
"If this child is given a name, then other names will begin to writhe."
Beelzebub's birth created vibrations that broke the boundaries between the human world and the supernatural world. A rumbling sound echoed between realities, as if the moans of the world's soul were heard. As blood melted on the altar, dark creatures felt the call, an inevitable war between what is known and what is unknown, between humans and ancient entities.
In every corner, that moment was etched in a chilling silence. The vibrating power shook the sky, as supernatural entities began to receive and weave their words within it. And in the silence, a soft whisper was heard, flowing into the souls that often sought meaning in the lost languages, as if promising to change destiny.
In the Philistines: Resonance from Below
Beelzebub and Fitran did not know that the altar had cracked.
But as Beelzebub laughed in her mother's embrace, a line of light rose from the ground.
The circle where they stood—once called "The Symphony of the Open Womb"—began to pulse.
The light from Beelzebub's body touched the underground Babylonian structure buried deep in the world's foundation. The structure did not respond, but adjusted.
As if the world was saying:
"I do not know how to receive this child... But I cannot ignore her."
The rulers beyond human reach trembled, moving the powers that existed among them. The sound of rustling in the sky called, the awakening of ancient languages competing with embellishments as Beelzebub moved. Each heartbeat became a harmony, its melody formed from words long buried, where new meanings were born along with the light it emitted.
And when that light met the dark, colors that had never existed flowed, presenting an unavoidable difference. As a result of the birth of this being, the walls between realities became more present; threats and promises clashed, potentially rewriting the narrative of the human world with every breath Beelzebub produced, giving birth to new expressions of meaning that would shake the existing peace.
In the Dark Dimension of Alveron,
Three shadow time rulers threw dice. But their dice stopped in the air.
"We can no longer count time if Beelzebub's spiral expands." "She is not just a being. She is a root word rewriter."
In their shadows, traces of fear crept in as reality trembled with Beelzebub's presence. Like the rustling of leaves flying before a storm, the voice of a once calm world was now filled with murmurs and whispers. Were they standing on the brink of a great change, or at the edge of an emptiness waiting to sweep away everything they knew?
A cold breeze invaded the warmth of the dark dimension, shaking their convictions; now, words were no longer just tools of communication, but also tools to reshape existence. No one could predict how powerful the language that Beelzebub would possess, which could multiply or destroy the meaning of what had existed.
Behind the Omega Sea,
Loki sat at the edge of the time tower and smiled.
"The Babel Altar bleeds. The world finally knows how fragile definitions are. And now... I know where the gap lies."
In the whispering sea, the voice of the wind spoke of departures and arrivals. Humans trapped in routine began to feel the vibrations of unease in their hearts, as if heaven and earth were about to confront each other. Every expression of love or hatred began to grasp deeper meanings, where every word could build a bridge or burn the existing one.
With Beelzebub's birth, the boundaries between the human world and the supernatural began to open. Even in the silence of the night, when everything seemed quiet, voices from other dimensions echoed, as if offering promises or threats. The words spoken could be a saving mantra or a disaster, depending on who spoke them and how they were spoken. A new order awaited to be carved from the lips of those brave enough to challenge the limits.
In Beelzebub's embrace, she began to show active resonance. She had not yet spoken. But the world around her began to rewrite the way of speaking.
The glyphs that radiated from her body:
Rejecting plural forms.
Not recognizing questions.
Not needing direct objects.
She is a verb that does not need a subject. She is a spiral of meaning that moves on its own.
On the other hand, every heartbeat that Beelzebub felt seemed to break the silence between the human world and supernatural powers. Tension began to seep in—signs along the human aura, vibrating and splitting their tongues. As Beelzebub moved her fingers, the wind seemed to whisper, repeating the unspoken sentences, radiating carelessness between hope and fear. A struggle between understanding and uncertainty was created, leaving traces of doubt in the depths of their hearts.
Each time Beelzebub vibrated, the walls between these two worlds began to crumble. The arrangement of vocabulary that had stood for centuries was threatened by her presence. Words, which had previously been trapped in rigid meanings, now flowed and undulated, making shifts that toppled the old order. Beelzebub seemed to become a bridge between ordinary language and the infinite cosmos beyond human logic.
Fitran stood on the high altar of the Philistines, gazing at the sky that was no longer dense with clouds, but rather fragments of punctuation. He saw:
Question marks crumble to dust.
Periods pulsing like hearts.
Commas moving like snakes.
"Beelzebub is not just changing the world. She is teaching the world to speak again."
Amidst the human confusion, Fitran realized that the cure for uncertainty was not knowledge, but Beelzebub herself. As if she were a creation from the labyrinth of words; each faster heartbeat became a secret code to unravel meaning. As the sacred light danced above the altar, new teachings surged in the air: language is a form of freedom; communicare is a journey to open all gates.
At that moment, hidden enemies began to reveal themselves. From the filled void, there was an echoing voice challenging, a call to understand what was once unimaginable. Those trapped in established norms screamed against change, confused and anxious about the loss of the old structure. Beelzebub, amidst the uproar, was just a child, but the burden she carried was enough to topple the guardians of habits built by fear.
The Babel Altar had now become a crack in concept. No longer solid. No longer neutral. It was a tombstone of the old meaning system.
And from its cracks, blood still flowed. But not red. Rather, a glowing dark purple—color between will and doubt.
In the whispering wind, humans felt an unexpected vibration. A soft voice echoed in their minds, inviting fear mixed with curiosity. In the darkness, shadows lurked, unseen forms pulling them to the brink between awakening and emptiness. In every corner, they heard the rumble of uncertainty tearing apart the emptiness behind every word spoken.
Each time Beelzebub's voice resonated, the world around her trembled. The language that was once familiar now dissolved into new complexities, changing, conveying unexpected meanings. Humans trapped in the symbols of the past began to doubt the meaning of the words they used; they were the students of an unexpected lesson, restarting the learning process from a language that had long been extinct, and delving into meanings trapped in the dust of history.