The night sky above Thirtos was no longer just black; it yawned like an endless abyss, as if the world had lost its place beneath the horizon. The stars had long vanished, and the moon had been swallowed by eternal clouds. Only the flashes of purple lightning behind the salt mist reminded humanity that the sky still existed—though hope was nearly extinguished. Yet, from the ocean's deepest chasms, something older than the night itself began to rise slowly, shaking the entire world from its core to its surface.
Since dawn, the land of Thirtos had been trembling. From a distance, Fitran could feel it beneath his feet: this tremor was not just an earthquake; it was the breath of the world being choked by something colossal. The wind carried a stinging scent of salt, and each droplet of dew that dripped from the leaves seemed to vibrate in sync with the rhythm of the upheaval. The remaining golems began to retreat cautiously, as if even the stones knew that something they could not combat had awoken from millennia of slumber. In the darkness, the distant lights from the villages of Thirtos flickered like anxious observers, questioning what would happen next.
Fitran stood at the front line of the city's last defense, his Voidlight sword had transformed; fresh magic blended abyssal colors, with its blade glowing deep blue-black like starlight being drawn into a black hole. As he held the sword, a flash of blue light created moving shadows around him, dancing with the darkness of the night. Beside him stood Joanna, her tattered cloak fluttering in the wind, yet her eyes burned with unwavering determination. She gazed at the sky, as if trying to pierce through the dense darkness, while her hands clenched tightly, signaling the tension flowing within her. Her breaths were steady, but an inner fire surged, ready to explode at any moment.
Behind them, Rinoa and the spiral force of the mothers of the world, including Iris Gaia and Seraphine Luthariel, were poised to activate reserve magic if everything faltered. Rinoa eagerly surveyed the battlefield ahead, feeling the pulse of the earth resonating with her warriors' souls. Her hand clenched with hope and anxiety as she exchanged glances with Seraphine, who stood calmly like the North amidst the storm. Seraphine gripped her staff tightly, channeling a magical energy that shimmered around her, creating ripples in the air that kindled a sense of optimism despite the looming threat.
The sky trembled with a thunderous roar as towering waves crashed from the ocean, carrying a sharp hiss that seemed to dominate the symphony of the night. Amidst the vibrations, a look of awe spread across Fitran's face as a bolt of lightning illuminated a majestic figure rising from the sea. Like the awakening of a giant, water cascaded from her body, sparkling like crystals under the faint glimmer of light. With slow yet deliberate movements, she ascended to the surface, revealing herself as the ancient guardian of Thirtos. Her presence radiated an aura of strength and tranquility, as if warning that hope was not yet entirely lost.
From a distance, Joanna’s gentle voice pierced the silence, “We are not alone. She will stand with us.” As she spoke, her index finger pointed towards the emerging creature, vibrant colors swirling in the air, forming exquisite patterns with a captivating shimmer. Here, their magical prowess was torn by uncertainty, yet within their souls, there burned a flame that would not be extinguished.
The night wind carried the salty scent of the sea mixed with the metallic tinge of blood. And finally, from the horizon, which no longer had clear boundaries, the ocean surged, forming moving black mounds that advanced towards the shore. Then—louder than thunder, deeper than the trumpet of doom—the sea itself split apart.
Angin malam membawa aroma asin dan darah, menyentuh kulit Joanna dengan lembut seolah mengantarkan pesan ketakutan dari kedalaman lautan. Di antara desiran angin itu, dia merasakan getaran yang memicu naluri bertahannya. Akhirnya, dari garis horizon yang sudah tidak jelas batasnya, air laut mulai naik, membentuk bukit-bukit hitam yang bergerak menuju pantai dalam pergerakan yang mengejutkan. Percikan air laut yang menabrak batuan pantai mengeluarkan suara keras seperti guntur yang meraung. Lalu—dengan suara lebih nyaring daripada petir, lebih dalam dari terompet kiamat—lautan itu terbelah. Dari jurang gelap itu, tubuh sebesar pulau muncul perlahan, bagaikan monster legenda yang terbangun dari tidurnya yang panjang.
Sisik-sisik gelap menutupi tubuhnya yang panjangnya bermil-mil, berkilauan di bawah cahaya rembulan yang redup. Sepasang mata kuning menyorot tajam, bercahaya dengan kebencian purba yang seolah dapat membakar jiwa-jiwa yang berani menatapnya. Di punggungnya, deretan duri raksasa bergetar, memancarkan aura abyssal yang memanipulasi gravitasi di sekitarnya, membuat rambut Joanna berdiri tegak merasakan energi mengerikan yang terlepas. Dari rahangnya yang terbuka, uap hitam mengepul, menebar penyakit dan rasa takut ke seluruh makhluk yang memandangnya, melintasi udara dengan aroma busuk yang bisa membangkitkan mual.
That—Leviathan-Khalid, the chief Avatar of Tiamat. An ancient being that signifies not just destruction, but also the awakening of ancient powers that have been imprisoned within the oceans.
The people of Thirtos, who had previously become accustomed to all forms of horror, now felt something they had never experienced before: an absolute silence that froze their souls, a fear so profound it defied articulation. The tall buildings, made of old bricks and painted wood, surrounded them—the once comforting structures now appeared terribly fragile in the face of a force that shook the very foundations of the world. In the distance, the crying of children behind the crumbling walls sounded like voices from another realm, creating a symphony of panic that echoed among the ruins, stirring something deep within every listener.
Fitran stepped forward, raising the Voidlight high, as if challenging the darkness that enveloped them. His expression radiated determination and the desire to protect, yet tension was evident in his movements; his right hand trembled slightly around the Voidlight, reflecting the doubts swirling within his heart. He knew—and the world knew—that if this Avatar breached their defenses, there would be no more city, no more names, and perhaps no more tomorrow. Every breath he took seemed to invite shadows of terrible possibilities lurking ahead.
“Joanna,” Fitran whispered slowly, without turning, “this is the moment.” His voice trembled yet was filled with determination, as if signaling the last flicker of hope for the defenders of Thirtos. His face appeared resolute, while the Voidlight in his hand cast a slightly calming glow amidst the looming darkness.
Joanna nodded, placing both palms on the ground. She closed her eyes, allowing the rhythm of Genesis to merge with her deep, steady breaths. In that tranquility, the sounds of nature seemed to fade, creating space for primordial energy to flow through her body. From beneath the earth, giant roots began to stir, weaving like serpents among the ruins, seeking the body of Leviathan-Khalid as it slowly rose to the surface. Each movement of the roots produced a soft hissing sound, as if warning of the presence of something magnificent yet terrifying.
Leviathan roared. The sound shook the heart of anyone who heard it, creating a wave of resonance that made the air tremble. A chill enveloped their skin, reminiscent of a harsh winter. The stones around Fitran vibrated violently, and several surviving buildings collapsed instantaneously, sending plumes of dust soaring high and creating a hazy shroud on the horizon. Witnessing the ruins, Fitran felt a surge of anger and determination crash into his soul, solidifying his resolve in the mission ahead.
Fitran focused his energy into his sword, feeling each drop of power coursing through his body, igniting his spirit with an unwavering light of determination. The Voidlight blazed brilliantly, its runes glowing in a mesmerizing blue-black, casting the shadow of the monster throughout the city and creating an atmosphere thick with tension. He sensed the strength flowing from the hilt of his sword, a connection binding him to the essence of courage and heroism. In an instant, he leaped high, faster and higher than an ordinary man, challenging the Avatar's head that now loomed before him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the sluggish movements of Leviathan, attempting to engulf everything in its path.
As his sword flew through the air, he felt the pull of the wind and heard the horrifying roar of the creature, as if the breeze whispered reminders of the potential devastation. Fitran's body was taut with anticipation, every muscle primed for action, every nerve firing to ensure precision in his movements against a foe grander than he had ever faced. The moment felt like the calm before the storm, all elements seemingly frozen in time, awaiting the next strike.
“Voidlight: Abyssal Severance!” Fitran shouted, his voice resonating with fervor, piercing through the silence enveloping the crumbling city. A golden light flooded around him, creating a shimmering illusion in the scorching air. The sword cleaved through the air, leaving a sparkling trail reminiscent of falling stars, generating a wave of void energy that slashed at Leviathan's neck. However, as the magic struck, the abyssal scales of the monster proved as hard as primordial steel; only a splash of light and a trickle of black blood emerged, appearing like delicate dew on the dusty ground. With a thunderous roar, the monster thrashed, its body spinning, tail whipping fiercely, obliterating everything in its path as if attempting to erase the failure that had befallen it.
Fitran was hurled into the air, feeling the wind whistling swiftly around him, each second stretching like eternity. He crashed into two old buildings, dust scattering like white mist as wood splintered and stones cracked. He landed in a field of ruins, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Pain surged through his entire body, fractures in his bones echoing the agony that roared within his soul; yet, his resolve remained intact, like steel tempered in fire. “She is too thick,” Fitran hissed, his expression grim, eyebrows furrowed as he caught his breath. “I must…create an opening first.” His trembling hand gripped the sword tightly, struggling to calm the tumult within him.
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On the ground, Joanna, her gaze burning with focus, began to weave the second spell. “Genesis Bind—Phase II!” Her voice resonated in the space, filled with power and hope. Thick roots began to creep from all corners of the city, as if driven by a will of their own. They coiled around the legs of the massive Avatar, crawling up the sides of its scales, creating a rustling sound as they intertwined. Some roots managed to penetrate between the scales, resembling giant serpents seizing control of their prey. The monster attempted to move, but the roots of Genesis held it back with ancient magical strength, drawing a heavy breath from the creature, mingling the scent of damp earth with blood.
For a moment, as Leviathan-Khalid's body stilled, the atmosphere of the battle grew tense. Its dim light cast an ominous shadow of the monster amidst the ruins of the city. Fitran, injured yet spirited, moved with agility, his fingers dancing nimbly, ready to wield his magic once more. Meanwhile, Joanna gazed at you, the strength in her eyes akin to sunlight piercing through the storm. She was not just a sorceress; she was an unwavering symbol of hope for those who remained in the city of Thirtos, each movement of her body filled with conviction.
Thick roots emerged from every corner of the city, wrapping around the legs of the massive Avatar, some successfully embedding themselves between the scales. The monster attempted to move, but the roots of Genesis held fast with ancient magical force. The rumble of the spell's impact and the monster's movements sent vibrations through the earth, as if the entire city of Thirtos trembled under the pressure. For a brief moment, Leviathan-Khalid's body halted, and small cracks began to appear in the joints beneath its largest scales, producing a painful hissing sound, like the tearing of bad skin. Joanna, her fingers vibrating with concentration, sensed the flow of magic enveloping her surroundings. She inhaled the scent of damp earth and felt the air filled with warm magical energy, wrapping around her like a calm embrace before the storm.
“Iris, now!” Joanna shouted, her voice piercing through the chaos, echoing the fiery determination within her heart.
Iris Gaia and Seraphine Luthariel, their eyes shimmering with enthusiasm, raised their spiral staffs high, as if summoning the sky to answer their call. A swirling energy of silver mixed with light green spiraled towards the rooted Genesis, tightening their grip with grace akin to a dance. The brilliant spiral of light enveloping the roots emanated tiny sparkles, resembling shooting stars piercing through the night. Every movement felt fluid, imbued with peace, as if they were breathing new life into the trees once deemed enemies.
The Avatar roared louder, its voice boiling the blood of anyone who heard it. A wave of fear washed over the arena, as if everything around slowed for a moment. From its back, dozens of small creatures broke free—abyssal monsters with frightening forms and unsettling glowing eyes—immediately launching themselves at the human defenses. They moved swiftly, their steps unpredictable, creating dark shadows that darted rapidly between the ancient buildings of Thirtos, made from old bricks adorned with intricate stories. The clinking of metal and cries of confusion echoed as the soldiers struggled to confront this threat.
Rinoa stepped forward, her hair flowing with each movement as she chanted the protective spell: “Song of Aegis!” She moved her hands in unison, dancing to the rhythm, accompanied by a breeze that carried hope. A layer of light enveloped the spiral warriors, creating a protective net that radiated warm beams, holding back the onslaught of the smaller monsters. The determination of the warriors was evident in the tension etched on their faces, yet it was also reflected in their bold movements, ready to defend the land they cherished.
Fitran, swaying on his feet, understood that his moment had come. He gathered his remaining mana, disregarding the pain gnawing at his body. Each second felt agonizingly slow, and he could hear his heartbeat echoing in his ears like a hammer relentlessly building the explosion of energy he was about to unleash. With burning resolve, he plunged Voidlight into the ground, summoning a brilliant light that could shield the night. “This time… I will carve a path!” he exclaimed, his voice trembling yet filled with conviction, an aura of bravery surrounding him.
With her last ounce of energy, she surged downward towards the Avatar’s body, slashing at the roots embedded in Leviathan's flesh. Her movements were swift and precise, guided by instincts honed through battle. Each cut, each sweep, left a trail of light in the air, creating a dramatic atmosphere amid the surrounding chaos. Behind the cracks, black blood gushed forth, like night dripping with darkness. The metallic scent permeated the air, invading her nostrils and reminding her of the inevitable fate looming ahead. Joanna quickly sealed the gap with Genesis roots, forming a kind of binding that forced the monster to kneel. Her movements were quick and resolute, and she felt the surge of magic coursing through her body, providing the much-needed boost in this critical moment.
Leviathan-Khalid rampaged, its body twisting violently with a rumble that shook the ground, dust and debris swirling as if in rhythm with its fury. The earth around Thirtos began to sink beneath its movements, like a ship tossed amid a storm. Dozens of golems were instantly shattered, the sounds of cracking bones and clanging metal shattering the night’s tension. Most of the humans fled, their faces filled with terror as they took refuge behind Sheena's shield, which was nearly dimmed, the result of a brave protection that could no longer guarantee their safety.
In the midst of chaos, Fitran cast a glance at Joanna, uncertainty reflected in his eyes. They shared a mutual understanding with a single look, as if communicating in a silent language: victory would not be claimed tonight, but if the Avatar could be wounded and restrained, at least they could hold on for one more day. The tension was evident in the furrow of Joanna's brow, while her breaths grew more labored, feeling the weight of the battle resting heavily on their shoulders.
Finally, the Avatar let out a long roar, its piercing cry echoing like thunder, then slowly retreated towards the sea, leaving behind a trail of destruction and boiling black blood on the ground. In its slow movement, wisps of smoke and splashes of water emerged as the creature distanced itself from the land, casting a menacing shadow under the light of the full moon. Not dead, not defeated, yet its first wound had been dealt. In that fleeting moment, flashes of hope and fear intertwined among the remaining warriors.
Fitran fell to his knees, his heavy breaths pressing against his chest, his hands trembling as he held the Voidlight, which was fading once again like a candle almost snuffed out. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the exhaustion and pain from the extraordinary battle. Joanna lay exhausted atop the Genesis roots, now turned to ash, her hair damp with sweat clinging to her forehead, her face reflecting deep fatigue. She gazed up at the sky, trying to find a glimmer of peace amid the lingering chaos.
In the sky of Thirtos, Sheena's protective dome appeared as a thin ray, struggling against the darkness of the night. On the ground, only a few soldiers remained; their faces showed weariness but still shone with unyielding determination. Yet tonight, all who remained alive realized one thing: even the Avatar Tiamat could be wounded. Amid the scattered ruins, a chilling silence fell, accompanied by a new hope slowly blossoming in their hearts.
Rinoa and Iris helped Fitran and Joanna rise, their hands strengthening each other as they pulled one another from the darkness. Amidst the rubble and the bodies strewn around, a small flicker of hope began to ignite, glowing gently amidst the sorrow. As Rinoa cast her gaze towards the sky, she realized how beautiful the stars were, even though they were obscured by the anxiety that loomed over them. They understood that tomorrow, a greater threat awaited, but the wounds of the Avatar would become a story to be passed down—one that told how even emptiness could be illuminated by light, if only for a moment.
And in the silence of the night, Fitran stared at the horizon of the now tranquil sea, whispering to himself, “Today, we have not lost. Today, the world still has a name.”
Around him, the gentle sea breeze whispered, carrying a soothing scent of salt, creating a stunning contrast to the tension in his heart. The waves lapped softly against the shore, creating a rhythm that seemed to invite his mind to find calm, despite the shadows of battle just having ended. In the distance, the twinkling lights of the village of Thirtos glittered like stars, as if paying tribute to the warriors who had fought tirelessly.
Fitran gazed up at the dark sky stretched above him, lit by twinkling stars. He tried to grasp the hope that those stars offered. His thoughts drifted to the valleys below, where dense trees seemed to stand vigil over him. Far from the crowds, he noticed an ancient stone fortress, which had guarded Thirtos from external threats for centuries. Each corner of that structure reminded him of the long history of struggle his ancestors had endured.
Fitran's body tensed as he fought to suppress the pain in his chest. His fingers gently clenched the belt around his waist, attempting to forget the lingering ache. He took a deep breath, savoring the cool night air while watching the small lighthouse's shadow dancing at the edge of the sea. In an instant, he felt a connection to everything around him—war, hope, and life.
“I will fight,” he said softly, his voice carried by the wind through the dark night. “Until the last drop of blood, I will protect this place.” In his heart, that promise anchored itself like a steadfast rock amidst the ferocious waves.
Behind him, soft footsteps could be heard as Joanna approached, her loyal friend who always stood by his side. With her hair gleaming in the moonlight, she placed a hand on Fitran's shoulder. “You are not alone, Fitran. Together, we will face whatever comes our way.” Her voice was gentle yet firm, adding strength to her words.
They stood a few paces from the edge of the sea, gazing at the stars together. Despite the darkness surrounding them, their friendship and courage brought light into their hearts. Fitran turned to catch Joanna's gaze, filled with conviction. Reflecting on the previous night, they both understood that fighting against the darkness was not just about wielding swords but also igniting the light of hope that resided within them.
For a moment, they felt empowered to unite and share the blazing fire of passion swirling inside them. They embraced the stillness of the night, the rhythmic sound of the waves enhancing the magic of the moment, as if nature itself supported their resolve.
“Do you remember the first time we practiced magic under that big tree?” Fitran asked lightly, trying to ease the lingering tension. Joanna let out a small laugh, her smile sending warmth through his heart. “Of course! We almost burned ourselves! But look at us now, more prepared than ever.”
As they recalled that funny memory, both of them seemed more relaxed. Fitran extended his hand, allowing a moment of pause to feel the flow of magical energy that coursed within and around them.
“Now, we need to learn to control that power,” he continued, furrowing his brow seriously. In an instant, the aura surrounding them shimmered, indicating that the bond between the two friends was stronger than mere friendship. There was a desire to protect each other and a chance to stand against all threats to their homeland.
“I feel we are ready,” Joanna said, moving her hands in front of her body as if sensing magic about to be unleashed. In Fitran's hand, luminous energy began to glow, forming a delicate sparkle that danced on his palm.
With caution, Joanna raised her hand, focusing her magic. Not only for themselves but for Thirtos, for everyone who relied on their courage. A small bolt of lightning crackled between their fingers, breathing new life into the stillness of the night.
