Chapter 573 Rinoa Looks at Elyra A Name That Isn’t Hers Anymore
At the altar of the Philistine temple, soaked in blood and light, Rinoa stood, her figure glowing faintly in the dark. She was not merely a fleeting memory, not a dream awakened, but a resonance of a name—partly trapped in Fitran, partly buried in Beelzebub, and now... gently vibrating in Elyra's cries echoing in the silent space.
Around her, the candlelight flickered softly, creating dancing shadows on the cold, damp stone walls. The aroma of burning wood filled the air, enveloping this moment with a deep sense of nostalgia, as if reminding of the dark rituals once performed in this sacred place. Today, this altar stood as a silent witness to the conflict between life and darkness, delivering hope and anxiety in a single breath full of meaning.
Yet, even as the world around seemed to hold its breath with visible tension, Rinoa's voice glided softly, piercing the oppressive silence.
"My name is no longer mine. But I want to see how it grows... after it is no longer called," she revealed, her voice filled with longing and hope.
She could feel her heartbeat vibrating, each pulse seemingly connected to Elyra's crying voice, creating a silent symphony between the separated souls. This moment was a repetition of fate, where the dark past and bright future met in a sacred circle of time, trapped in a complex web of destiny.
She held Elyra tighter, her body tensing as if trying to absorb all the strength and fragility present. All the history she had once rejected, hidden, and forgotten now stood before her—with the same eyes as before, full of secrets and unspoken hopes.
Beelzebub had not risen. She still sat, weary from opening her eight gaping bellies, holding various secrets, and one last belly that contained this name, as if it were the center of all repressed desires and powers.
Under the soft moonlight seeping through the gaps of the ancient temple roof, Beelzebub's figure appeared increasingly terrifying, as if born from the darkness itself. Her shadow grew and danced, suggesting the latent power and unfulfilled intentions, delivering an aura of tension and mystery. Darkness enveloped the surroundings, yet in the profound silence, there was a vibrating hope, like a flower preparing to bloom in the middle of the night.
"You should... not exist," she murmured, her voice hoarse and full of despair, slowly slipping from her lips as if carrying an unbearable burden.