Chapter 495 Iron Symphony First Song
Their footsteps led them to a corridor whose walls pulsed. Not with light, but with rhythm. As if the stone and metal were alive—not with a heartbeat, but with a song. And the song... was not finished. A broken melody, repeating in imperfection. There was something strange and frightening about this place, as if every step they took was met with whispers of secrets never revealed.
In the distance, a sound like a violin being played slowly could be heard... too slow to be music, too emotional to be a machine. The sound seemed to dig into the depths of their souls, bringing forth buried memories. Fitran, with every heartbeat, felt the intertwining of past and present—a fine thread connecting sweet memories and pain.
Fitran and Beelzebub descended the corridor in silence. Yet, even without words, both felt the heavy atmosphere—nerves in their bodies seemed to weave the tension that existed within the pulsing walls. Beelzebub, with her vast experience, observed every detail, every subtle sway of the rhythmic structure surrounding them, as if the corridor was a magnificent creation, perfect yet terrifying.
In the midst of the silence, Beelzebub spoke softly, "You know, I once heard a song like this. When I swallowed the soul of a poet from the Tower of Uragonn—he wrote a symphony for his beloved, who turned out to be a stone statue. Every night he played an unfinished note, hoping the statue would weep." Beelzebub's voice flowed gently, yet there was a deep sense of sorrow, making Fitran feel how profound the pain of loss was. The silence continued as if honoring the memory etched in music, touching their hearts that lingered.
Fitran did not respond. But his mind was filled with unwanted images: Rinoa's face, the shadows of a love that could not be touched, could not be embraced. Amidst the shadows, moments when they laughed together flickered, moments that now felt like an illusion. And before him: a song he might have forgotten, yet still knew. In doubt and emptiness, Fitran felt how easily love could transform into sorrow.
They arrived at the Conductor's Room. The ceiling of the room was stunning, with the magnificent Narthrador architecture soaring high, showcasing transparent gears spinning as if welcoming the souls that arrived. The atmosphere was filled with wonder and mystery, making every step feel like entering a new dimension, where time and space interacted in a mysterious harmony.
The room was unlike anything they had ever seen before. Large, perfectly round, and its ceiling filled with silent spinning transparent gears. Each gear had a metallic sheen, emitting a soft light that gave a magical ambiance to the entire room. In the center of the room stood a circular stage with floating pillars, each holding metal instruments: strings, gongs, air tubes, and even a piano made of automaton bones. Fitran felt his heart race, as if the room itself was challenging his courage.
On the stage stood the conductor—not a human, but a metal skeleton draped in a score. The conductor appeared as a being that was alien, as if created from a dream turned reality—from a desire to revive music long forgotten. Its face was absent. Its eyes were two flawed crystals reflecting broken symbols, as if holding thousands of untold stories behind every scratch and crack.
It stood with its back to them, hands raised, as if waiting for a cue from someone who would never come. In Fitran's mind, that sense of waiting symbolized hope and desperation—something all too familiar in his own life.
And then... it began to move.
Its hands waved in the air, striking the empty space, and...