Three days after Fitran and Joanna returned from Bathys Omega, the sky of Thirtos never truly brightened. The Spiral Genesis continued to glow faintly beneath the roots surrounding the central altar, but its color began to fade, giving the impression that the world was losing its breath. Some spirals even trembled unsteadily, as if about to break free from the world's axis, instilling a grip of fear in Iris who witnessed it. A soft hissing sound, like the whisper of the wind, seeped through the roots, adding to the eerie atmosphere.

  In the main room of the magic observatory, Iris gazed at the spiral structure on the monitor, her eyes squinting as if trying to pierce the darkness. The rivalry between hope and anxiety roared in her chest. “This… is not ordinary erosion. This is not just time moving,” she whispered, her voice almost lost in the oppressive silence. The strands of her hair fluttered slightly as the anger built up within her. Rinoa stood behind her, her face pale, sweat dripping from her temples. “The spiral… is reversing direction.” She furrowed her brow, sensing an unnatural surge of energy, as if the world trembled beneath her feet.

  That morning, the sound of tearing was heard not from the sky or the ground—but from the spiral of the world itself. An unnatural sensation felt like something was crawling beneath the earth's surface.

  A sound like thread being forcibly pulled from a spool, stretching, and… snapping. Iris bit her lip, feeling the vibrations traveling from beneath her feet, as if nature was trying to scream.

  One by one, the spirals embedded beneath the city began to shatter. The protective pillars around Thirtos trembled, then collapsed, dust and debris flying, deflecting the dim light from the gray sky. The witches directly connected to the spirals—especially those classified as “Mother Spiral”—fell to the ground, clutching their chests, crying without knowing why. Their faces appeared frozen, as if ensnared in uncertainty, while their fingers trembled with unspoken pain.

  Joanna hurried to the Genesis altar, her steps trembling, her breath ragged. She touched the main root, and her body jolted as if struck by electricity. Joanna's eyes widened, both mesmerized and horrified, as the energy from the main root seeped into her body, bringing with it visions of unspeakable sorrow.

  “There is something… pulling the spiral from beneath the world. Forcibly tearing it out.” Joanna's voice trembled, filled with fear and sadness. The room felt colder, the damp air oppressive as if nature itself felt it, creating a tension that could be felt by everyone around the altar.

  Fitran arrived with Oda Nobuzan and heavy troops, walking quickly with tense strides. An explosion sounded from the east of the city, shaking the previously calm atmosphere, as if the sky trembled from the magical turmoil caused by the ongoing battle. Flames burned the defensive lines, their flickering light dancing in the darkness and adding to the ominous atmosphere. From behind the thick fog of ruins emerged creatures that were not ordinary abyssal beings, strange figures radiating a sinister aura. They were the Fractal Spawn—creatures made from fragments of broken spirals, appearing as if they were made from shards of a shattered world.

  Their bodies were unstable, constantly shifting shapes like shadows in the mist, creating a terrifying illusion for anyone who looked. Each time they touched the ground, the spiral at that spot shattered like glass, the sound of cracking echoing as a reminder of the destruction they brought. Amidst this devastation, there was a painful silence, stretching the sense of helplessness in the air. They were not just attacking the city—they were erasing connections.

  “If this continues,” Iris said, her voice trembling with worry. Her eyes, filled with determination, reflected the depth of fear raging within her heart, “then we will lose more than just the city.” She bit her lip, signaling uncertainty in the darkness that engulfed them.

  “We will lose all the fundamental concepts of the world,” Fitran added, momentarily feeling his neck stiff and heavy. His gaze was sharp as a sword, trying to dispel the creeping anxiety within him. He raised his hand, wiping the sweat trickling down his temple, before gripping his weapon—his last hope in a time when everything seemed dark.

  The main protectors gathered, their faces illuminated in the dim light cast by the flames flickering in the distance. The atmosphere was filled with deep silence, only broken by Rinoa's tense breaths standing at the edge of the sound tower.

  Seraphine Luthariel was gone. Elena had fallen earlier. Now, it was the turn of the next generation to protect the world in the only way they had left: their bodies. The wind whispered softly, as if granting permission for the sacrifice that was about to occur. Among them, fear and hope mingled, creating a wave of energy that could be felt in the air.

  Rinoa, though still exhausted, climbed the sound tower; each step felt heavy, as if she were lifting a great burden on her shoulders. She began to play the Song of Containment—a song that held the distortion of reality. However, within her, the pain in her throat signaled that this song would burn her vocal cords in less than five minutes. She closed her eyes for a moment, preparing to face the terrifying sensation as magic began to flow through her body.

  Oda led the last troops to the eastern line, her body upright despite the sweat flowing down her temples. She did not speak much, her eyes sharp and focused ahead. But before departing, she tightly grasped Joanna's hand, feeling the same heartbeat. “If I do not return… continue to burn this world with love.” Her voice trembled, revealing the depth of her emotions behind her strong leadership.

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  Joanna nodded, then looked at Iris, sensing the tension in the air. “What is your plan?” Her voice trembled, a mix of fear and hope shaking her heart. She tried to remain strong, even though her chest felt tight.

  Iris gazed at the sky, then took a deep breath, allowing the warm aroma of the burnt earth to fill her lungs. “I will stitch the broken spirals back together. But for that, I need a binding. Someone who can be the axis, even if it means being shattered in the process.” Behind her firmness, there was an unspoken vulnerability, creating a deeper sense of closeness between them.

  Fitran looked at his daughter, feeling a knot in his throat. Each heartbeat seemed to create a bridge between the past and the future, between hope and fear.

  Joanna looked back; her eyes filled with determination, even though her lips trembled.

  “I will be that axis,” Joanna said softly, her small yet confident voice piercing the space. At that moment, she felt the vibrations of magic enveloping her body, flowing through her bones and flesh.

  Fitran grasped her shoulders, as if to give her strength. “Not alone. We will be bound together. The spiral belongs to both of us.” Their eyes met, and in an instant, they felt an unbreakable bond, as if the world outside paused for a moment just to witness this declaration.

  The Fractal Spawn breached the second layer, like dusk suddenly turning ominous. Fire and dust enveloped the altar, creating a terrifying atmosphere that burned everything in its path. Some parts of the city began to disappear entirely, as if swallowed by a soundless darkness. Not destroyed. Not dead; just gone, submerged in a terrifying silence.

  Vanished from all forms of memory, as if taken by the dark night.

  One building, when it collapsed, created a sound that shook the soul. Dust flew like a ghost in the dim light, even making everyone forget the existence of someone named Ardell, a young witch who once laughed with Joanna. The memory of that laughter was now lost, vanished in the crowd trapped in confusion and panic.

  Joanna cried, her tears flowing like a river seeping into the cursed earth, without knowing why. The pain pierced, tearing at her heart in the burning silence.

  Fitran slashed through ten Fractal Spawn, his body moving swiftly, each movement measured, yet every attack made the Voidlight tremble with a rumble, like thunder tearing the sky. His sword responded to the broken spirals, vibrating as if sensing the instability in this world. He knew he had to keep balancing the meaning of the sword, or he too would be forgotten, drowned in the sea of darkness like what happened to Ardell.

  “Voidlight… do not disappear with me,” he whispered, his voice soft yet filled with determination. His gaze focused on the light of the sword that began to fade. “The world still needs meaning,” he said, as if making a promise, while his fingers clenched the sword's hilt tightly, as if grasping the last hope. Cold sweat trickled down his temple, creating a damp trail on his trembling face.

  Joanna sat in the middle of the altar, her body beginning to fade at the edges. She clutched the last core spiral—named Seraphine’s Heart. Her trembling fingers quivered, feeling soft yet heavy, as if carrying the weight of the entire world in her hands. The air around felt heavy, filled with profound sadness, as if influenced by the sorrow trapped within her soul.

  With Iris's help, she began to chant the final spell: “Genesis Barrier: Lament.” Her voice trembled, barely audible, yet still carrying the anger and despair of thousands of lost voices. Nausea enveloped her stomach, feeling the magical pull flowing from within her body, creating a magical lump in her chest.

  This was not ordinary protective magic. This was a cry of pain, for the world to hear the cries of those who never got to speak. As the words slipped from her lips, the altar walls trembled gently, like a shadow wanting to speak but unable to. The sound of the wind seemed to whisper, carrying a message from some of the lost souls.

  A glowing spiral emerged from within Joanna and Iris, spreading throughout the city like a final embrace from a mother. The light brought a comforting warmth, but at the same time, reminded of the deep loss. The wilted flowers around the altar seemed to bloom again, symbolizing the hope that remained behind the sorrow.

  Each spiral touched something, reminding them of who they were. The light piercing the darkness brought images of silhouettes of people they knew—smiles, tears, and warm embraces that were now gone. In the corner of her eye, tears welled up, signaling an unbearable longing.

  “You are not dust.” This voice came from her mouth with a force that pushed, as if trying to awaken the sleeping.

  “You are not silence.” Each word seemed to change the flow of energy around, igniting the hope that was almost extinguished.

  “You were once loved.” Under the glowing spiral light, beautiful memories honored the love that once existed, creating a layer of warmth in the cold heart.

  Thirtos was no longer whole. But it still had a name. The loud sound of collapsing walls echoed behind them, marking how fragile this world was.

  Half the city vanished, hundreds of souls perished. Yet the remnants of the world knew that something had been sacrificed for them to remain remembered. The scent of charred earth and dust filled the air, reminding wandering souls of what had been lost.

  Fitran embraced Joanna, who was nearly unconscious. “Are you crying?” He felt her body tremble in his embrace, sensing her unraveling from sorrow.

  Joanna shook her head, weak. The tension in her face displayed helplessness, yet her eyes sparkled with a glimmer of hope that seemed unquenchable.

  “…I just… don’t want to lose anyone else. Even if they are nobody to me.” Her voice was hoarse, as if heavy, filled with unspoken longing, and her tear-filled eyes reflected the flickering spiral light.

  And in the distance, the sound of Rinoa's singing began to fade. The heart-wrenching melody created a sense of anxiety that enveloped the air, signaling the impending farewell.

  The last spiral still glowed in the air, forming soft clouds of light. A small smile etched on Joanna's face, though sadness still enveloped her heart.

  But in the silence of the sky, the voices in the ocean prepared to rise… a rumble full of hope and regret united as one, waiting to be called back to the light.