The third spiral pulsed softly within Elyra's chest. Each throb sent waves of emotion coursing through her: hope, old wounds, aimless love.
These waves traversed the boundary of Eidolon Intima, reaching out to:
The dream creatures trapped in the tower of sleep,
The guardians of trauma from the eternal battlefield,
Shadows from the Vertigrav dimension, who thrived on the certainty of structure.
And all of them... sensed the discomfort.
Amidst the downpour of anxiety, Elyra recalled her teacher, a wise figure who always said that emotions are a bridge—a pathway connecting lost souls. Now, that lesson felt more than just words; it was the key to understanding the beings approaching with unclear intentions. She felt her duty: to be the living link between the world she knew and the undefined threat ahead.
They Come. Without words. Without names.
These beings from before the will of the individual—from a world that only recognized strength and obedience—invaded the realm of Elyra's emotions. Each creature advanced in a terrifying manner, like shadows conjured by the darkness of night. One creature, with dark gray skin and glowing red eyes, moved swiftly in a curving motion, as if it were a giant ant crawling endlessly. As it opened its mouth, its sharp teeth were revealed, poised to devour anything nearby.
Beside her, another creature moved with a terrifying calm; it raised a hand that appeared almost shadow-like, with long, slender fingers shimmering with a cold, freezing light. Every movement was executed with grace, yet within lay an unspoken threat, ready to drag Elyra's soul into the depths of darkness.
As they drew closer, Elyra felt a tremor in the air; it was like the presence of a lurking storm. She struggled to m...
In an instant, Elyra absorbed the magical power flowing through her. Her hands radiated a soft blue light, forming a sparkling spiral pattern in the air, illuminating the surrounding space. She directed her hand toward the first creature and recited a spell she knew well. "Eternalum!" she shouted, and a beam of swirling light shot forth, colliding with the creature in a thunderous impact that shook the atmosphere. With that attack, the creature was hurled backward, as if struck by an oncoming tide.
However, without warning, the slender creature employed its cunning tactics, swiftly moving towards Elyra. She changed direction, shattering the silence as a guard leaped from behind, swinging its shimmering arm charged with dark energy. As if time slowed down, Elyra observed the details of the creature—its dark eyes and a body formation shaped like a shield, poised to deflect any attack. In that critical moment, she felt doubt creeping into her soul. Was she strong enough to face all of this? What would happen if she failed?
She straightened her back, understanding that this battle was not just physical, but also emotional—representing hope and fear in a single breath. With that, she concentrated, releasing the pain and doubt, strengthening the spell she sent forth: intertwining her bond with these creatures, making them part of her fight. As the next creature rushed forward, she channeled energy into her fingertips, focusing on the uncertainty and apprehension, creating energy that was both protective and soothing.
Moments of reflection crossed her mind as she realized that the essence of courage was not only about fighting back, but also about remembering where she came from—acknowledging that all these beings were waves of unspoken feelings, much like herself.
The frozen giants of emotion from the northern dreams loomed large. The black bird with blurred eyes, once a symbol of reason, flew low with its broad wings, stirring the winds around it. The arms of mantras, rendered meaningless since language fractured, waved helplessly among the dark shadows. As they approached, Elyra could sense the vibrations in the air; it was like the presence of a lurking storm. Thunder rumbled in the distance, amplifying the tension that enveloped them. She strained to listen to the dark whispers that passed by, searching for clues about their intentions. In the silence, it felt as if each creature carried the weight of history, buried stories eagerly waiting to be unveiled. Were they coming to harm or to understand?
One by one, the creatures emerged, their forms indistinct, creating a frightening tableau before Elyra. One of them, cloaked in dark fur and with eyes glowing like embers, moved arrogantly, nearly stirring up dust from the ground. Its movements were as swift as a lightning strike. Another, larger creature emanated a chilling aura, stepping heavily. Each of its strides rumbled with a sound reminiscent of the ocean crashing against rocky shores. Meanwhile, black birds circled overhead, adding to the confusion in her mind.
"Who am I really?" Elyra pondered as the first strike struck the ground near her, sending shards of earth into the air. With sharp reflexes, she leaped to the side, feeling the rush of air from the creature that surged past. She understood that the battle was not just against the attackers, but also against the uncertainty within herself. She sought to embrace the strength in her heart.
They did not attack out of hate. They attacked because they did not know how to exist in a world like this. Her hands gripped Excalibur. Yet the sword did not shine. Not because it was weak—but because this world did not recognize light as a weapon. In the silence, she felt her soul tremble, realizing that true strength lies not only in physical ability, but in the desire to protect what she valued.
They attacked with a blazing strength, unleashing waves of spells that enveloped Elyra. Each assault felt like a striking lightning bolt; it shook her heart and compelled her to fight for what was most precious. In an instant, Elyra released a protective spell from within herself, creating a shimmering shield of light—a manifestation of her determination and love. This tactic momentarily halted the attackers, taken aback by the unexpected power.
Within their chests, the echoes of long-lost joy battled against a suffocating fog of confusion. Every step was clouded by uncertainty about what they should do, each attack laden with questions. Elyra felt a deeper drive, a reflection of the same love and powerlessness. "If that's the case, I will not fight to win. I will fight to protect the feeling."
Her hands grasped Excalibur, her spirit ablaze, feeling the strength flowing through her fingers. She faced the creatures with renewed courage, fighting with a strategy that relied not just on physical power but also on an understanding of their emotions. In that exhilarating battle, time seemed to slow down; each movement of the attacking creatures possessed a profound emotional weight. Elyra knew now that she had to fight not only for herself but for these creatures who had also lost their way.
However, the sword did not shine, a clear indication that he had yet to fully master the power within his soul. With each passing second, the tension escalated as their positions shifted across the battlefield. Elyra could sense that this fight transcended mere physicality; it was a struggle for understanding and connection, where desire and uncertainty intertwined with every strike unleashed.
In the midst of silence, Fitran felt his heartbeat echoing the rhythm of an unresolved battle. "This dark world of mine," he thought, "should have a light, even if it appears extinguished." He opened his eyes, as if striving to rekindle a long-dominant hope. The gentle movement of the night breeze seemed to dance around him, awakening a longing for a brighter life.
Fitran closed his eyes again. Then he opened them once more.
"Then, I will not fight to win.
I will fight to protect the essence."
This attack weakens the ancient creatures that assault her, emerging from the darkness like distorted shadows. They possess large, terrifying bodies cloaked in gleaming black armor, marred by countless scratches. Their eyes blaze with a deep crimson hue, as if holding an unquenchable ember of hatred. As they approach, the sound of their footsteps reverberates through the air, creating a palpable tension felt by every soul present.
Among them, one creature—known as the Revenant—strides arrogantly. Its dark brown, scaly skin enhances its terrifying presence. It swings its massive arms, generating a gust of wind that sends leaves swirling around, as if seeking to sweep away all hope before it. Another entity, the Wraith, glides silently, its aura bringing a chilling dread that seems to summon hidden memories.
Beelzebub: Void Magic of the Womb – "Ventris Lux Devotio"
Womb of the Light of Sacrifice
Beelzebub released three spiral seals from her body, forming a circle of light around her. Light tendrils emerged from within, connecting to the ground and stretching through the darkness. The glow quivered as if it had a life of its own, dancing to a rhythm comprehensible only to those souls trapped in the shadows of their past. Each strand of light carried messages of love and loss, touching the hearts of the creatures it encountered.
The effect bound the creatures attempting to approach, ensnaring them in their own emotions. They found themselves immobilized—because their bodies were compelled to feel what they had hidden for eons. Amidst the pain and burning hope, one by one they began to remember, faces erased by time emerging in their minds, breaking through the veil of unconsciousness. Each time one of them got trapped in a memory, that creature let out a piercing scream, creating a silent sound that touched Fitran's breath.
"You rejected tenderness," Beelzebub said. "So now… feel for yourself the longing to be embraced."
Fitran, witnessing all of this, felt the weight of a deeper struggle. Each confrontation was not merely against the creatures—it was much more against the shadows of their repressed memories. In his actions, there were moments of reflection where he realized the struggles of others and how hope could triumph over injustice. With a growing determination, he prepared to face the next assault, crafting strategies to combat the emotional waves faced by these beings.
Beelzebub's voice penetrated the depths of his being, offering an unexpected warmth amid the darkness. It was as if she had once been in the same place, trapped in the limbo between desire and rejection. In silence, she longed for understanding, awaiting responses from these souls.
The giant of neglect leaped into the center of the altar, its towering body adorned with wrinkled skin that shimmered like ancient stones, its long, muscular arms moving slowly, casting a haunting shadow. Fitran struck it with magic:
"Ignis Aestus: The Fire of Unattainable Embrace"
– The golden flames engulfed the form of the creature, leaving trails of light in the air. Smoke billowed, enveloping the altar in shades of orange and red, while also forming faces of memories across its surface. The blaze was not merely destructive; it sparked an awakening, as if igniting a fire within a dormant soul. Echoes of forgotten voices resonated, where each breath stirred a longing for warmth that had long been lost. As the giant stumbled backward, the suppressed cheers were replaced by whispers of doubt.
Shadow birds, thin creatures with glossy black feathers glinting under the light, surged toward Beelzebub. They spiraled through the air, creating a dark and cold current. In an instant, Beelzebub unveiled her fifth belly, a movement both elegant and powerful:
"Lacrimosa Utero: The Womb of Crying that Holds Regret"
– The birds' wings began to dissolve into a fog of memories of their mothers' voices—voices that they could never recall but now could not forget. Each particle of mist penetrated the bones of the birds, causing the creatures to stagger before vanishing completely, releasing the painful memories buried within their minds. For a moment, amidst the chaos, Beelzebub's reflection reminded them of the painful choices every individual must make.
In the enveloping silence, their shadows evoked the warm embrace that never was, the longing that tore at their hearts. Amid the remnants of feeling, a hope trembled—a womb of regret eager to burst forth in the form of tears. The last creature, the Horned Silent Entity, surged silently, its slim figure glistening with horns that spiraled into the darkness, harboring a destructive power poised to pounce.
Yet, the third spiral of Elyra pulsed gently. With a soft gesture, she seized the magical energy, shaping a circle of light in her palm. Defying the tumult of battle, she concentrated, merging with the energy around her, creating a dazzling demonic shield. In her heart, she understood that every spell cast was not only for attack but also for salvation.
Like the heartbeat that flowed within her, a single word resonated in the silent room; part of its quietude was an unspoken scream, a confession hidden within the darkness. And from within her…
there emerged the echo of one word—not in language,
but in feeling:
"I do not wish to be hurt, but I cannot hate you."
The creature fell silent.
The only sound filling the space was the whisper of the heart, longing to be accepted. One by one…
they shattered not out of destruction,
but because they could no longer deny their own desire for love.
Fitran and Beelzebub stood amidst a circle of emotional debris. They appeared to be figures made of shadows, radiating a dark aura that even dimmed the surrounding light. Beelzebub, with her muscular frame and magnificent wings, trembled with mysterious energy. Each movement of her wings created powerful gusts of wind, as if she were summoning a storm from the darkness.
There was no blood.
There were no bodies.
However, a faint smoke shimmered, swirling in soft light—as if all that was broken tried to reassemble, forming a new shape from the repressed feelings. Only the echo of emotion now softly reverberated in the world of Elyra.
Elyra… still slumbered. Yet her smile formed a new wave.
Before them, the Silent Horned Entity began its assault. Its figure was slender and tall, with curling horns resembling a crown of darkness. The creature moved with remarkable agility, gliding through the shadows, accompanied by a sharp hiss as it approached its target. Beelzebub stepped forward, spreading her wings to create a shimmering energy shield around her. She gathered magical power from the darkness, allowing every suppressed emotion to flow through her body, a manifestation of burning feelings illuminated in a flickering light.
As the Entity charged, Fitran jumped to the side, unleashing a burst of blue flames from his hands. The flames resembled rolling ocean waves, traversing the air and scorching the space around them. When the fire touched the creature's skin, it crackled with a sound of destruction, as if injuring more than just physically. With quick and calculated tactics, they protected each other; one moved forward while the other filled the gap with a powerful counterattack.
The Silent Entity responded with swift movement, her body gliding between attacks as she launched a curved kick capable of severing the soul from the body. Yet, each time her strike came close to landing, Beelzebub eluded her with agile maneuvers, creating small portals to dodge those lethal blows. In this battle, every move and strategy was not merely about strength, but also about how they could maintain the bond that had already been forged between them.
Amidst the turmoil of conflict and swirling emotions, both of them contemplated: in this war, it wasn't just about winning or losing, but about understanding and accepting their fate. In the profound silence, a glimmer of hope emerged—that love could find its way even amidst shadows trying to hinder them.