Chapter 67 Voidwright (7)
There is no battlefield.
Because their fight does not take place in the ordinary realm. Instead, it unfolds in the intricate folds of reality, suspended between fleeting human dreams and the vastness of cosmic amnesia. This dimension feels like a space ensnared in time, where the air vibrates with an ethereal resonance that hums softly, echoing with forgotten whispers. Its texture is woven from a heavy mist, wrapping around the body in a shroud of uncertainty and trepidation. Gravity behaves unpredictably, a whimsical force that pulls and pushes in erratic rhythms, as if this world defies the established laws of nature.
First Movement: Lament of Arista
Arista stands still, a solitary figure amidst the chaos of her reality.
Yet, when her puppet crashes to the ground, the world screams. Each heartbeat sends ripples through the void, creating waves that resonate in an unsettling harmony, and strange, flickering light radiates from all corners, illuminating the gloom. As Arista unleashes her magic, the spectacle is nothing short of mesmerizing—light suffuses into darkness, flowing liquid-like in vibrant hues, remaining tantalizingly just beyond the reach of ordinary sight.
"Ą̸̛̲̞͚̐̄͜ͅR̵̡͙̒̄̐̍͛I̷̘̖͛Ș̴̱̒́T̷̤̲͋͘A̴̰͎͉̙̓̓̈́̕͜!"
The voice echoed not from the lips of a living being, but instead emerged from the collective memory of a world unwilling to let go of the little girl who never existed. In this dimension, images manifest like shadows resisting the confines of reality—faces without bodies drift in the clouds, their haunting gazes empty and forlorn, weeping and clawing at the untouched air as if desperate to break free from the veil of forgetfulness.
"See me, or this world will forget your name too!"
Her magic was neither fire nor ice—but rather a misplaced existence that defied the laws of the universe. With a fierce intensity, she struck Fitran with Wounds of Memory, creating fissures in reality that caused the air around them to randomly replay fragments of the past. As Arista launched her attack, her radiant light shattered the oppressive darkness, unleashing a cataclysmic wave of visuals that swirled into a relentless vortex. This spiraling chaos tore at the very fabric of the dimension, as if it were liberating long-buried memories, infusing the atmosphere with an overwhelming sense of grief and profound loss.
The surroundings pulsed with a rhythm influenced by her burgeoning power, each beat echoing through the void as time itself began to bend and warp. Arista felt herself sinking deeper into this non-functional realm, her body seemingly engulfed by the dazzling brilliance of her own magic. Her silhouette quivered, physical boundaries dissolving in the turmoil around her as the distorted world's energy entangled itself with her essence. The collision of diverse magical forces ignited sharp flashes of light that erupted like fireworks, producing an array of supernatural phenomena. Below them, the ground transformed into arcs of luminescence, flowing erratically in a chaotic rhythm, as if rebelling against the very nature of existence itself, compelling the consciousness of all within to awaken and confront the fragile realities they had long forgotten.
Fitran attempted to utter a spell, yet his voice lacked direction. In this ethereal and timeless dimension, sound wielded an unpredictable weight, echoing through the void with a wavering cadence. He sensed his own existence... but why? His eyes shimmered with an uncanny light as the crescent-shaped glow enveloping him flickered, heralding the emergence of an extraordinary force.