There is no light in this battle.
There is no grand motivation.
There is no absolute will.
Only two beings…
who both do not want to see their loved ones hurt any further.
Fitran unleashes the Dark Magic
"Tenebris Aeternum: The Breath of Forgetfulness that Refuses to Hold Pain."
This magic conjures a black mist from Fitran's body, the mist shimmering and flowing like oil as it dances in the air. Each of his steps absorbs symbols of the past from his surroundings, causing light to seemingly be drawn in and softened by the darkness. The air becomes silent, as all words now exist only as whispers of memories. Each whisper appears as fragments of faint light that float away, consumed by the darkness.
With each breath, a thick fog enveloped the area around him, creating haunting shadows that danced slowly in the darkness. Fitran's body moved swiftly in a spin, generating a fierce wind that made the leaves tremble, as if echoing the song of a ghost. Faint echoes accompanied each step he took, dissolving into the silence and generating a sense of anxiety that squeezed his heart. Beneath this whirlwind of emotions lay a dilemma: was a noble goal worth the price to be paid?
Fitran conjured a spiral shadow sword, its blade glistening with a dark purple hue, and raced toward the heart of Umbra, each step etching dark traces that shook the ground beneath him.
"I do not hate you, Umbra.
But I cannot allow that memory to destroy it."
"Obscura Veritatis: A Wound That Must Be Remembered."
Umbra-Khalid summoned silhouettes from the past. They did not attack, but stood before Fitran with the faces of Beelzebub, Lyra, Selene, Astrea, and others. Their forms trembled with a grim aura, the dim light reflecting off the silhouettes making their shadows appear longer and more menacing, as if the universe were paying heed to this moment. They spoke only:
"If you love me, why do you want to forget me?"
And from the soil of the Umbra world, black roots began to grow, connecting Fitran to all the wounds he had once ignored. These roots shimmered with fragments of blue light, releasing a soft hiss as they crawled through the ground, as if signifying a life within the buried sorrow. All around him, the atmosphere felt heavy, like the ruins of memories enveloping the space. The dim light flickered along the roots, casting vague shadows of the past in slow motion, reminding Fitran of the haunting decisions he had made.
The Sky of the Umbra World began to shatter like a mirror.
The Fourth Spiral belonging to Fitran glowed with a powerful pulse, waves of deep purple energy surged forth, twisting and curling as if dancing in the air. However, it could not penetrate the faces that emerged. The light radiating fought against the shadows, creating a tense interplay of light and dark; the clashing colors formed a bright spiral that surrounded Fitran. Every second felt like a test, forcing Fitran to choose between continuing the fight or confronting the painful reality of the past. His movements were swift, flowing like water as he pressed forward, his gaze sharp and resolute as he prepared to strike.
Fitran stomped his feet with burning spirit:
"Tenebrae Reformatio: Darkness Is Not To Hide, But To Begin Again!" With those words, darkness began to gather around him, forming a swirling ball of energy flickering with black and red colors; the sphere tore through the atmosphere with a hissing sound, creating ripples of disturbed air around him. As the luminescent ball shot toward his enemy, waves of darkness flowed backward, enveloping the area, signaling that the battle had just reached its peak.
The wave of darkness swept across the left side of the field, like a mimicry of night devouring light. Fragments of past faces began to fade away, drawn into the abyss of intense darkness. But Umbra… strengthened him. Magical energy blended with the dark aura, sliding through the air like a shimmering black wave, dancing gracefully. With each incantation, the ground trembled, and the sky split apart, creating a thunderous roar of power that shook the soul. Fitran felt a moral pressure as he questioned whether this power would liberate him or merely bury all painful memories deeper, like ruins covered in dust.
"Memoria Infracta: Memories Cannot Be Erased, Only Buried."
From within Umbra's body, a massive shadowy figure emerged, flickering as if it were not entirely real. With Beelzebub's weeping voice, the sound seemed to shatter the boundaries between sorrow and anger, its resonance vibrating through every fiber of the battlefield. Each of Eloyra's outstretched movements, gentle yet lethal, created a flow of pale light swirling as if caught between hope and fear. The energy around her pulsated, generating an aura of doubt, like a morning fog that was difficult to disperse, and as she drew a breath, shimmering droplets formed in the air, vibrating in tune with the surge of emotions.
Fitran stopped. A soft light unraveled the darkness, casting a faint shadow on his face, illuminating the doubts in his mind. And in the midst of the silence, he whispered:
"You used their love as a weapon."
"I do not manipulate. I only… reveal what you never allowed to exist."
Time shattered, like cracked glass. Dimensions moved backward, pulling every soul into the original darkness. The Fourth Spiral collided with the core of Umbra-Khalid, its impact radiating a crimson light like a brutal sunset. The blazing red glow twisted and turned, forming dancing patterns that seemed to scorch the surrounding space, creating waves of heat that brushed against the skin.
In an instant—the entire world of Umbra turned black and white. All sounds faded away, leaving only a bitter silence that hung in the air.
Only two colors:
Black, embodying the courage to remember, a reminder of everything lost that would never return. In that darkness, shadows seemed to move on their own, taking the form of the lost, waving as if calling out.
White, representing the right to let go, shedding the burdens that must be left behind for safety. Within the white light, tiny particles twinkled like stars, spreading and forming a shimmering circle, as if separating darkness from hope.
"Atra Lux: Light from Unvoiced Wounds"—a combined magic of Fitran and the Fourth Spiral,
against
"Noema Obscurata: Meaning That Refuses to Leave"—the core attack of Umbra-Khalid. Fitran's energy surged forward, spinning gracefully in a swift motion, like a striking serpent. Consequently, a wave of bluish light spread out, as if grasping every hope that ever existed. He advanced with pinpoint precision, his movements expressing the strength contained within each attack, raining down on his opponent with thick, intense energy.
Both of them exploded at the center of the dimension. An unutterable sound erupted, a rumble that shook the very foundation of their souls. Their forms became indistinguishable as an energy mist enveloped them, creating an unbelievable illusion. And all spirals transformed into flat lines. As their powers collided, the atmosphere trembled, generating ripples in the air that brought a sudden chill, seemingly making the sky aware of the ongoing battle.
It was as if the world was trapped in a black-and-white painting; light and darkness clashed, reshaping the landscape around them into dancing shadows. A magical glow gathered into swirling waves of purple, radiating glimmers reminiscent of the stars at night, as if each light possessed a voice that defied the darkness. In those terrifying moments, the two heroes felt a wave of moral tension rising; one side struggled to find hope as energy flickered around it, while the other fought to maintain power with sharp and swirling hand movements, forming an arrogant figure that seemed unstoppable.
Beelzebub was awakened by Elyra's clap. As she adjusted her position, her movements were swift like an arrow in flight, with a bright blue aura trailing behind her, creating a luminous path that seemed to slice through the air. She then gazed at the sky of Philistines, which now trembled faintly. The darkened heavens split apart as if responding, waves of magical power radiating a fiery red glow from points that emerged on the horizon. She knew—Fitran had not returned.
And the battle… was far from over. The energy of magic writhed with intensifying vigor, conjuring pillars of fire and ice facing each other, forcing the surrounding environment to vibrate in a fast-paced rhythm, further highlighting the mix of exhilaration and tension that hung in the air.