Chapter 507 Second Pillar – Zero Dogma
The sky of Narthrador turned gray again.
After the destruction of the First Pillar, there were no cheers of victory. No ringing of magic. Only silence flowed from the cracks of the machine world, a silence witnessing that the system had faltered but had not yet surrendered. In the suffocating stillness, Fitran felt the shards of hope and will being shattered, like fragments of glass scattered on the cold ground. He shivered, not only from the cold atmosphere piercing his skin but also because the pillars of his desires collapsed in despair. The voices in his head, like echoes without sunlight, began to deepen his doubts.
The Second Saint stepped forward.
Draped in shining white, her face covered by a dimly glowing number 0. Unblinking. Unchanging. Unbreathing. She was the manifestation of absolute nothingness—an entity that believed that will was the root of all faults, and that perfection could only be achieved when all desires were annihilated. Unbeknownst to him, a sense of emptiness enveloped Fitran's chest, shrouding his soul with a sense of meaninglessness. In the gripping fear, he felt a heavy burden on his shoulders, as if the entire world pressed against the flow of blood in his veins, reminding him of everything he had to let go.
"Welcome to the Second Pillar."
"Dogma: All will is flawed."
"Flaws create choices. Choices create lies."
"Thus, you will be cleansed of your own will."
The Nihil Dogma Field formed.
A disk of gray light descended from the artificial sky of Narthrador, enclosing Fitran in layers of darkness that gripped him. In the midst of the terrifying mental pressure, his body felt heavy, as if crushed by the inevitable nothingness. With each passing second, despair crawled into his mind, releasing the fragile grip of hope that once existed. The disk surrounding him not only exerted physical pressure but also sowed the seeds of doubt that gnawed at his soul and customs. Everything he had ever loved, every decision he had ever made, trembled in the dissatisfaction around him.
In the arrogance of experiencing the process of emptiness, Fitran could feel his soul and body communicating in the same language: helplessness. Once again, he was gripped by the shadows of the past, aspirations that fell under the power of nothingness born from dogma. His spirit wanted to fight, but the influence of the Second Saint trapped him in limbo, between the desire to survive and the demand to erase that desire. His humanity hung by a thread, struggling in the darkness that sought to invade everything.