LGHTNOVELBOOK Chapter 55: Chapter 55 Arkanum Veritas (16)
The sky was shrouded in dense purple mist, a remnant of glyph burning that left a bitter aroma in the air. Below, in the underground ruins of what was once an ancient waterway, a stone door slowly opened with a grating sound grrkkk that shattered the oppressive silence.
Fitran stepped through, crossing the threshold between the tangible world and the unseen.
His light was soft and soothing, yet strangely, not a single shadow followed in his wake. He seemed to tread the line between existence and nothingness, savoring the bizarre yet familiar ambiance. Soon, the temperature around him dropped, creating a chill that pierced his skin like a cold whisper from another realm. His cloak did not flutter, but each step summoned a faint tremor of energy that vibrated in the air, as if a dark power responded to his presence. An undercurrent of tension hung heavy, like an invisible bridge straddling duty and humanity. In the circular stone hall, beneath the symbol of the open eye of Arkanum Veritas, stood a man with silver-gray hair. His skin was pale as wax, and his robe was fashioned from ancient scrolls that seemed to meld with his skin, giving the impression that he was the keeper of hidden secrets. His name was Orvin.
"Fitran," Orvin spoke, his voice reverberating softly in the hall, echoing as if inscribed in the thick tension of the air.
"I have come to erase another lie," Fitran replied, his tone firm yet laced with deep sorrow, an unspoken inner battle hinting at the long journey that had brought him to this point.
Orvin smiled faintly, a smirk that contained a mix of mockery and arrogance. "Do you think this world can be cleansed? That truth can be distilled into a single white line in the void? You are not light. You are merely the remnants of a dream held by those too afraid of their own shadows."
Without a cue, Orvin snapped his fingers, a powerful signal marking the beginning of the ritual.
In an instant, dozens of translucent sigils layered upon one another sparkled into existence around Fitran, swirling and enclosing him like the crumbling rings of a star, hinting at an inescapable power. At that moment, Fitran felt a strong vibration tearing through the calm, forcing his spirit toward an unavoidable moment. The atmosphere thickened with tension, as if the world trembled in longing and fear, each heartbeat frozen in anticipation.
"Veritas Iterum: Spiral of Echoes!" The process of elimination began, each layer of the sigil vibrating more intensely, radiating overlapping energy that shifted the balance of power between them. Fitran, with his mysterious form, grasped the truth within his hands, feeling the struggle between physical and metaphysical forces, as if the universe held its breath, witnessing what would happen next.
A silent explosion occurred—waves of distorted information crashed, creating a commotion in the silence: voices of deceased philosophers, false confessions, and divine commands flooded the air like psychic waves penetrating the mind. Fitran was pushed backward, his body intact and unharmed, yet his mind was struck by a torrent of haunting ideas. Nevertheless, he remained unyielding; a deep calmness resided within him, as if a cold wind burrowed through his skin, freezing the moment around him.
His hand was raised, and the surroundings seemed to tremble; the atmosphere dramatically changed. A strange temperature enveloped the space, whispering an unfamiliar warmth, balanced by the bitterness of the awakening of a void that leaped beyond the bounds of reality. "Shell: Zero Form."
The silent explosion was swallowed by a colorless transparent layer, creating a haunting illusion of emptiness. All sigils crumbled into dust of logic, forming a chilling aura that made hearts tremble with fear. Fitran stepped forward; the ground beneath his feet cracked, and the pulse of energy surged through his skin, vibrating as if responding to the call of a fervent power. Orvin, with a burning determination, conjured a spear-shaped text incantation from the script that had released from his body—an archive of false truths transforming into pure magical matter, a projection of uncertainty blazing in his eyes, reflecting the turmoil within his soul.
He hurled the spear, surrounded by the shadows of tension that enveloped every corner of the room. Fitran did not flinch; his face bore an unwavering resolve, as if he had accepted an inevitable fate. As the spear nearly pierced his heart, the air in front of Fitran folded like a shattered mirror, reflecting the chaos surging inside his spirit. "Dark-Light Reversal."
The spear reversed course, turning abruptly and unexpectedly. Time seemed to slow; his heart appeared to stop, anticipating the most decisive moment filled with tension. Orvin barely had time to take a breath before the spell struck his own shoulder. His flesh burned with the black light that enveloped him in a spiral, unraveling hope into a stinging shadow of despair.
Orvin fell to his knees, blood dripping from his mouth, as if both peace and desperation united in a moment that felt almost eternal. Fitran gazed at him impassively, his eyes reflecting the depths of infinite darkness and silence, conjuring a chilling sense of dread that enveloped the atmosphere.
"You do not believe in truth. You are merely afraid of the meaning beyond your reach."
But Orvin chuckled softly, the sound resonating in the chilling stillness. "And you, Fitran... are not a redeemer. You are merely... the void... that avenges the world's grievances." His words hung between them, adding weight to the haunting silence before everything was drawn back into the emptiness created by Fitran's decision.
Behind him, from the shadows enveloping the stone pillars, the remaining members of Arkanum Veritas slowly withdrew. They witnessed not just a battle, but a brutal execution of the dogma they had long adhered to. A tense atmosphere enveloped the room; the air felt heavier, as if everyone present was holding their breath in uncertainty. Every passing second was shrouded in mystery, making Fitran an unreadable figure, caught between his obligations and the humanity that continued to struggle within him.
With purposeful steps, Fitran crossed over the half-burned body of Orvin; the heat from the flames consuming him struck his skin, creating a sharp contrast with the chilling silence that surrounded them. The flickering flames still trembled, the thick smoke swirling gave a haunting rhythm of death. He did not kill; he merely... erased. A decision that resonated in the empty space, causing the energy around him to vibrate, as if his call came from an unreachable dimension.
As the action unfolded, a wave of dark aura enveloped the surroundings, blurring the lines between existence and oblivion. A chilling breeze taunted the witnesses, creating a suffocating silence in their hearts. The atmosphere felt unsteady, as if the forces at play were shifting dramatically, and Fitran, the sole controller of this moment, emerged as the architect of the leap between life and death, from existence into the waiting void filled with mystery.
Meanwhile, in a place shrouded by eternal mist,
She did not awaken with a body.
She awakened with memories.
In a space that is neither above the earth nor below it— a realm between echo and silence—an eye opened.
The eye belonged to Elena of Arkanum,
yet now there was no flesh, no heartbeat,
only anger compressed into form.
"Fitran..."
The voice was not spoken through vocal cords but chiseled from the memories that had been erased. And from that memory, the curse took root.
When Fitran erased Elena with "Reflection of Death Soar," he was unaware that Elena had bound part of her soul to the Glyph Thanatophage, not to her physical form, but to the concept of being unable to die completely.
The curse stated:
"As long as the world remembers death, I shall return."
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After a long second of silence, Elena felt a gentle wind whispering, teasing her nonexistent skin. She was in a separate world, where Fitran's face faded along with the memories that enveloped her. Here, uncertainty hung in the air—as if her soul remained awake between two realities.
And because Fitran used magic that shattered the boundaries between life and death, he himself opened the rift. This rift was now reshaping Elena—not as a human, nor as a spirit—but as a counter-will against Fitran.
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Her body slowly emerged. Not from the ground, nor from ordinary magic. But from the wounds of the world. Every place marked by the destruction of Fitran's existential magic became a space where Elena could gather fragments of herself.
And finally, she rose from the thin mist that cloaked the world, feeling the warmth awaken every cell in her body. The whispering winds rustled gently, carrying a mysterious aroma from the void surrounding her.
Her body emerged slowly. Not from the earth, nor from ordinary magic. But rather from the wounds of the world. Each place marked by the devastation of Fitran's existential magic became a spot where Elena could gather fragments of herself.
Eventually, she stood beneath an ancient tower among the ruins, in a mist that refused to cling to her skin. Around her, crumbling walls and scattered debris created a grim atmosphere that separated her from the ordinary cycle of life and death.
She was no longer the Elena she once was.
Now she was called:
"Elena, Corpus Nihili – A manifestation that cannot be erased, cannot be remembered, can only be felt as a wound.
However, her resurrection was not merely an act of revenge. She did not want to kill Fitran. Not directly.
She wanted to make Fitran remember the feeling of fear. In the shadows of her memories, she felt an atmosphere of nervousness and tension. A sense of loss. A sense of guilt. To achieve this, she planned to pull Rinoa into the whirlpool of her curse. Not to kill her, but to multiply the memories of Rinoa across thousands of possible worlds—until Fitran could no longer discern which one was real.
Within her recollections, hazy images flickered through her mind. Rinoa's smiling face, surrounded by warm light as they played in a field of flowers. From there, the sound of laughter filled with hope echoed, but all of it was now shrouded in a fog of sadness and regret that ensnared her.
The transition back to reality felt suffocating—if only there were a way to escape this pain, or if only there were a path to forget the sense of loss, but uncertainty was the only companion, trapped in a silence that demanded retribution.
"Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Marina," said the figure of a girl approaching Elena. With graceful steps, Marina drew closer to Elena, and despite her nakedness, her face and body radiated an unwavering beauty and a mysterious aura enveloping them both.
"Who are you?" Elena asked, her eyes sweeping around in confusion.
"Necromancer," Marina replied calmly, her voice steady yet imbued with a surprising strength.
"Where is this?" Elena continued, still trying to make sense of the strange environment surrounding her.
"Charderal, Ancient Grave of Homunculus," Marina responded, her tone laced with mystery and elegance that sparked curiosity.
"Hmm ....
"You are not an undead, quite strange," Marina remarked. "You also possess a new body and a new face, yet remnants of your past memories still linger," she added, astonished.
"What am I really?" Elena asked, her face showing confusion. "All I remember is my name, Elena," she continued, her voice trembling as if a weight was held within her.
"A concept in this world," Marina replied, her eyes sparkling with deep understanding. "This is the world's method to counter entities that transcend the limits of reality." The echo of her explanation hung in the air, providing warmth in the otherwise uncomfortable atmosphere.
"Then, do you know Fitran?" Elena said, her tone carrying a profound sense of hope and fear.
Suddenly, Marina was taken aback, her emotions swirling between concern and curiosity.
"Fitran?" Marina repeated, as if the name disturbed her peace.
"Yes! That name always echoes in my ears and makes me feel uneasy," Elena replied, her expression reflecting deep sorrow, as if a bitter memory was buried within her heart.
"Is there something else bothering you?" Marina asked, feeling anxious and curious.
"Rinoa," Elena answered quietly, adding weight to the already tense atmosphere.
Marina was taken aback, her face pale as if recalling something dangerous.
"I have to keep Rinoa away from Fitran," Elena said firmly, with a fierce determination in her eyes.
Marina was so shocked that she nearly fainted, as if her body was saying, "Whoa, we need to take a break!" Teheee .....!