Chapter 477 Syllogism of the Broken Light
The First Voidwright stood unwavering in the midst of the swirling glyph fog, as if becoming the center of all existing chaos, reinforcing the concept of power that envelops reality. Her body slowly expanded, and her cloak began to reveal writings that had never been recognized by anyone—even by the previous pactum writers.
As she transformed, the entire world seemed to freeze for a moment, as if sensing the extraordinary power flowing from within her. Her radiance created colorful illusions that glided gently through the fog, forming captivating and mysterious patterns, enriching the mystical atmosphere around her.
From behind her, four new hands gracefully emerged, each holding a seal of the old laws: Certainty, Truth, Harmony, and Victory. Each box of symbols glowed softly, hinting at the latent power within.
"The world is built on logic," she said with a firm and confident voice.
"Love that cannot be ordered in syllogism... is a distortion.
And I... will erase the distortion."
Just as her words were spoken, a vibrating aura surrounded her, creating waves of energy that manifested shadowy forms, 'Phantasms of Equilibrium.' These shadows vibrated in harmony, creating a gentle image of a strong web of relationships, as if depicting the balance between beauty and uncertainty. However, amidst her allure, there was a floating darkness, a reminder of the sorrow and loss that inhabited the space in her soul, illustrating that beauty often arises from suffering.
Fitran merely stood, surrounded by Voidlings that now took the form of fragmented light. They did not shine but rather vibrated,
like the sound of cries that never had the chance to escape anyone's lips, depicting the depth of emptiness that was hard to express.
It was the 'Echo of the Forgotten,' magic that manifested in the form of fine particles reflecting light, as if calling forth long-lost memories, and emphasizing the connection between the past and the present. Each particle danced, harmonizing with Fitran's heartbeat, as if whispering that the feeling of loss is an integral part of an unending quest.
Beelzebub knelt behind him, feeling the weight crashing down as the static magic began to split her chest. Their emotional bond felt thick in the air.