Chapter 302 The Final Weapon of the Perfectors — Arbiter Voluntatis
Elysvarre, Northern Square
Night fourteen after the Anathema
The sky was gray, the atmosphere tense like before a storm.
Fitran stood in the deserted square, abandoned by the people; the security candles had been extinguished, and the torches were now merely charred remnants of light. The air was thick with an unnatural magical pressure, as a foreboding dark aura gathered around him, as if the fate of the entire world hinged on this moment. Each heartbeat felt like a compulsion to rise against the impending threat, a monolithic challenge looming in the shadowy depths of the fog.
From the thick fog, heavy footsteps echoed.
Arbiter Voluntatis emerged from the darkness.
Twice the height of an ordinary man, its body was clad in black and deep purple steel. Its face was hidden behind a flat mask intricately carved with ancient glyphs of will. Every scratch on its armor seemed to radiate a long-suppressed power, ready to be unleashed by its bearer. The darkness appeared to hold no significance for this being; only sovereignty flowed from its every movement.
In his left hand, a scroll of Pactum concepts.
In his right, a long obsidian spear that trembled the ground with every thrust. The spear glimmered as it caught the dim light of the night, signaling a terrible threat to anyone daring to challenge him. In a world where magic serves as a guide, the Arbiter is a manifestation of strong and unyielding desires, embodying the raw power capable of altering fate and redefining existence itself. This being was not just an adversary but a harbinger of choices that could reshape the very essence of their reality.
"Fitran Fate."
"You have disrupted the balance of the world's will."