Chapter 61 Voidwright (1)
Several weeks after Arkanum Veritas fell,
The sky had cracked three times since Fitran laid down his sword.
Amidst the ruins of the ancient tower in the northern part of the world, he sat alone, surrounded by the whispers of time and the fog of magic that refused to dissipate. Gone were the sacred armor on his body and the radiance from the heavens embracing his shoulders. All that remained was silence—long, deep, and akin to a prayer left unanswered. It was as if that silence itself reflected the crumbling world around him, creating an abyss between a Paladin and the hope that once guided him.
The world called him Paladin.
Protector. Bearer of light. The right hand of the gods.
Yet Fitran himself... had forgotten what it felt like to be a part of that sky.
He laid down his sword not out of fear, nor from defeat. Rather, he had abandoned it upon realizing that the sword could only sever flesh, not meaning. In the emptiness enveloping his soul, he faced the reality that meaning—this was what had long vanished from the world he tried to save, creating a deeper collapse than the fortress he guarded.
Within the tower, far removed from chaos and conflict, Fitran began to construct something new. It was not the magic learned at the Tower of Atlantis, nor the dogma preached by the priests of Gaia. Instead, he forged magic from the very cracks of his being; a search for meaning amidst the void that could not be filled, and from wounds that could not be healed. Each effort he made became a part of a collective journey, touching the dark sides of uncertainty that had now seeped deeply into his society.
He named it:
Magia Ex Nihilo
Magic from Nothingness.