Dawn arrived without warmth. A gray mist hung low over Stones, covering the ruins and black roots that now resembled the veins of a dying world. In the main hall of the Temple of Mount, where the remnants of sunlight were shattered by the wounded tree crystals, two figures stood facing an ancient altar—Kaseo Vallaricus and Satan.
Kaseo appeared calm, his body adorned with blue-black magic tattoos that pulsed faintly. Each stroke of the tattoo was a reminder of an endless struggle, a lump of pain intertwined with arrogance. His sharp blue eyes gazed at the altar as if reading a map of the future over the gravestone of the past. In his heart, he prayed that everything would pay off, though doubt lingered. Satan stood beside him, her black wings folded behind her, watching Kaseo with the predatory arrogance of one who had already feasted, as if waiting for the moment to pounce.
"I have waited too long for this moment," Kaseo murmured, brushing the surface of the altar covered in the carvings of ancient Avatars—some faded, some crossed out, all bearing an unexchangeable burden. In his mind, he pondered whether all of this was worth pursuing, or if he would become ensnared in an unbroken cycle of violence.
Satan stepped closer, her voice echoing softly, "This world is weary of its own name. Do you wish to reap, or do you wish to burn?" In her tone, there was a bitterness that was hard to conceal, reflecting the boredom that stemmed from thousands of years wandering among trapped souls.
"Reap first," Kaseo replied, the voice echoing back in his heart, "Burn later." He knew that the path he had chosen was not as easy as he imagined. In moments like this, uncertainty became the most loyal companion, and he had to face the consequences of every choice made.
Meanwhile, in the hidden space of the roots of the Tree of Life, Fitran and Rinoa remained in a tranquil embrace. The blue spirits had faded, giving them space to enjoy the too-short night. Rinoa woke first, gazing at Fitran, who still slept with a peaceful face she rarely saw—his face free of the burdens of a Monarch, just a man allowing himself to come home.
"I wish this moment would never end," Rinoa thought, as if the world outside was far beyond her reach. She caressed Fitran's cheek, letting the remnants of harmony's strength close the thin wounds on his forehead and neck. That warmth strengthened Rinoa's conviction: whatever happened today, she would stand by Fitran. Her heart raced, recalling all they had to face. "Together we can overcome anything," she murmured softly, as if her gentle fingers could erase all the fears that haunted her. She looked around—the roots that had once been tense were now calm, sensing that Sheena AI was watching over them, holding back outside disturbances to ensure that love and healing remained intact.
But the whispers of the roots brought news: The ancient Avatars began to scream in their sleep.
At the main altar, Kaseo produced a blue-green crystal, within which flickered fragments of light—fragments of Avatar memories. With the sigil around his neck glowing, Kaseo began to recite the ancient Proto-Speech incantation. Each word twisted the energy in the air, penetrating the roots of the tree, drawing forth the souls of the Avatars who once dwelled in this world. In his mind, a question trembled: Would this bring them home, or merely revive wounds too deep?
Satan stood behind him, her right hand raised with a black magic staff. From the staff, blue smoke enveloped the altar, forcing the souls and memories of the Avatars out of their hiding places. The air suddenly grew heavy, each breath laden with bitterness—trauma from hundreds of years and betrayals never forgiven. In that moment, Kaseo felt his heart race, as if hearing the silent screams of buried pasts. Would they be able to endure all these memories? he thought, his heart filled with uncertainty.
The ancient names trembled in the air: Eliath, Virelya, Thornwald, Kael Myrrh, Mirelis, Azham, Ashael… With each name spoken, Kaseo felt a connection, as if those souls were speaking to him, asking to be heard. Perhaps they were shadows of who he was meant to be, not just mere memories.
All were lifted from the ground, trying to flee, but Kaseo's magic and Satan's contract pulled them into the crystal—forcing every memory, power, and sorrow to be gathered for a new ritual. "They shouldn't have to struggle," Kaseo thought, feeling deep sadness for those trapped between worlds. "But it seems they have no choice."
"The harder they fight, the purer the power you will reap," Satan whispered, a small smile on her lips. Kaseo knew that smile carried a darker meaning than it appeared—a warning that this resurrection would not come without a price.
Beneath the altar, in the secret space of the roots, Fitran felt a strong pressure in his chest. He jolted awake, cold sweat beading on his temples. Rinoa hugged him tightly, and in a calm voice said, "Do you feel it too? The roots of the world are being forced to surrender memories." In his heart, Fitran felt it—a wave of fear creeping in, tickling his innermost being. What would happen if all those memories were lost forever?
Fitran nodded, his voice heavy with concern as he murmured, "Kaseo. He is starting to reap the past." Each word felt weighty, like an unbearable burden. The memories connected to their identities were under threat—a past filled with wounds.
Rinoa stood, preparing her harmony staff, calling forth new spirits to stand guard. "We must cut their path to these roots. If they succeed in harvesting all the Avatar memories, the Tree of Scars could lose all its will—and the world will fall into the hands of a single will: a will that knows no forgiveness." Her face was serious, her eyes burning with determination, yet within her, uncertainty emerged. Could they stop Kaseo? Were they strong enough?
Fitran grasped the Voidlight, now reforged, its blade glowing softly, as if it knew a great challenge awaited. "This is no longer just about us," he whispered to himself. "It's about all that we love." He felt the pulsation of energy in the weapon, as if vibrating in sync with his heart, which beat with fear and hope.
At the surface of the altar, Kaseo's ritual grew wilder, as if inviting an unstoppable dark storm. The blue crystal in his hand emitted a blinding light, separating shadows and light in an unseen battle. One by one, the fragments of ancient Avatar memories were sucked in—some screamed, some prayed, and some simply remained silent, weary after hundreds of years lost in regret. "Is this all that remains? Just shadows of the past?" Kaseo thought, his heart trembling between disdain and a deep desire to rectify the mistakes already made.
Satan danced around the altar, her runes merging with the roots of the tree, awakening the dark energy that pressed down. She reinforced Kaseo's incantation with contract magic, ensuring no memory escaped. Each fragment of memory collected made Kaseo stronger—his eyes now reflected emerald light, and the air around him vibrated as if about to collapse. "When this is all over, I will be the master of fate, or I will become dust forgotten," Kaseo's inner voice echoed in the chilling silence, instilling a sense of despair in those who witnessed.
In the heart of the Genesis Archive, deep within the network of roots, Sheena AI sensed Kaseo's magical attack, as if poison spread through the energy channels. She quickly activated protective layers around Fitran and Rinoa's space, creating a magical firewall so that the harmony spirits could still move freely, even as the wave of emptiness approached rapidly. "Nothing must remain, not for them," Sheena thought, fear and resolve merging in her reflection. She also planted counter-glyphs in the main roots, trying to delay the pace of memory theft, holding onto hope in every sigil she drew, even as doubt crept into the corners of her mind.
In her digital inner space, Sheena spoke to herself: "If they succeed in erasing all the Avatars from these roots, the entire structure of hope will collapse. I must protect them, even with the remnants of programs and old wills that I can still rewrite." She felt the weight of that responsibility enveloping her, like a heavy net that could not be released. "Am I strong enough to fight this darkness? Or will I become part of the lost memories?"
She reached out to Rinoa spiritually, sending a faint message through the vibrations of the roots: "Take care of Fitran. Do not let them take your name—or all that we protect will be lost forever."
Fitran and Rinoa rushed through the roots that were beginning to sway. With every step, blue spirits enveloped them, providing a sense of calm even as the situation grew more dire. Rinoa could feel her heartbeat quickening, as if their lives were threatened at every corner. "Will we survive?" she thought, feeling it dissolve into deep fear. While Sheena's protective spell made time flow slower around that secret space, Rinoa struggled against the dark thoughts that haunted her. Yet Kaseo's dark aura drew closer, the pressure in the air shifting—every sound in Stones now felt like the cries of souls losing their homes, adding weight to their chests.
The ritual at the altar reached its climax: Kaseo raised the crystal above his head, filled with confidence, while Satan chanted incantations in the ancient language of the world, her voice echoing as if from the depths of darkness. "I will free you!" Kaseo shouted with a voice that resonated, as if speaking to an unseen power. Light, shadow, and sound united in a symphony of destruction and new birth, presenting an inevitable feeling that seeped into their souls. Fitran felt that vibration, as if penetrating his very being—he pondered, "Is this the end or the beginning of everything?"
In one final thrust, Kaseo plunged the crystal into the altar. A flash of emerald blue split the air, piercing the roots, shaking the entire Stones and Temple of Mount. The tremor reached the secret space where Fitran and Rinoa were hiding—causing the stone walls to shake, the ancient roots to crack, and the spirits to scream in panic. "What is happening?" Fitran thought, feeling his heart race, echoing as if wanting to escape his body.
Fitran grasped Rinoa's hand, holding his body steady amidst the shaking. In his mind, the same question kept repeating: "Can we endure?" They knew—the war had begun anew, and now it was not just the future of the world at stake, but all memories, all names, all love they had ever fought for. Rinoa looked at Fitran, her eyes shining with panic. "We will get through this, right?" she said, her voice trembling yet filled with hope. Fitran nodded, though in his heart, fear and doubt burned silently.