"I don't have to wait any longer to kill you," the pastor declared with a tone of superiority, thrusting his gleaming spear toward Fitran's head. In a desperate situation, Fitran's body was on the brink; however, he summoned his courage and tried not to show fear. The promise he held was so strong, binding him with the hope that he must not die here.
With agility, Fitran stuck out his tongue, taunting even in the face of death.
"Still able to mock," the pastor said with a sneer, as the spear approached Fitran's eye, making it appear like a dark shadow ready to end a life.
"You're wrong," Fitran replied, his voice firm despite the pressure.
"The formula is complete," he continued, adding a tense edge to the increasingly ominous situation.
Suddenly, the spear held by the pastor quivered as if sensing the tension that filled the air.
Whosh ...!
The spear shot forward swiftly, shifting to the right and grazing Fitran's face, lightly nicking his earlobe. The pastor, with a razor-sharp gaze, witnessed a velata that was fierce attacking another velata. Suddenly, one velata infiltrated his spear, redirecting the attack towards Fitran, while the other sped forward, opening its mouth wide as its head, ready to pounce.
In a critical moment, Fitran harnessed the wave frequencies emanating from the depths of the planet. These frequencies were very low, yet their wavelengths reached around 1000 kilometers. The source of these waves originated from the planet's mysterious atmosphere, where cavities created resonance. This resonance was captured by Fitran's ears as a receiver and processed by his tongue as a transmitter, subsequently channeling that energy to the accompanying velata.
"You bastard," the pastor growled, with fury boiling in his voice.
The pastor reached for something from his place again. With determination, he raised his sword and exclaimed, " Sword of Lightning Light."
"Shine ... Holy Exorcism," he continued with a voice full of power and conviction.
A brilliant light suddenly burst forth, obliterating the threatening velata, yet also dazzling the pastor's vision. In that fleeting moment, he lost track of the fitran, the dark creature that was binding him.
As the light dimmed, the room, usually filled with sound, became eerily silent. The pastor felt tension in the air, but there was no trace of the fitran's magic. Even the quantum spectrum, which typically detects the presence of spectral beings, failed to sense it.
"It's come to having to draw this sword," the pastor said with a serious gaze, smirking at his sword before putting it away. Frustration enveloped his heart due to this unexpected situation.
The Sword of Lightning Light is a blade known throughout the kingdom as a tool for exterminating troublesome supernatural beings. Often referred to as an exorcism sword, it not only has the power to obliterate spirits but also possesses a unique ability to purify souls tainted by dark presences.
"FITRAN!!!" the pastor shouted, his voice echoing in the silence, penetrating the strange aura that enveloped the place.
"YOU DON'T NEED TO HIDE LIKE THAT! HAVE YOU BECOME A COWARD WHO ONLY LIKES TO COWER?" he shouted again, his tone growing more intense, mirroring the frustration and tension thick in the air.
Tap... tap... tap. The sound of heavy footsteps approached, resonating in the stillness.
Before long, Fitran appeared, his face smeared with blood, as if he had successfully extracted the sharp knife from his body. The pastor watched with curiosity and a hint of bewilderment, for he knew who Fitran truly was—a figure shrouded in mystery and foreboding.
"Where were we?" Fitran asked, his voice raspy yet filled with curiosity, while his blood-soaked face emanated a sense of determination. Deep within, he whispered, "Forgive me for borrowing a bit of your power," referring to Beelzebub, known for his dark wisdom; "You must repay this in kind," Beelzebub's voice echoed in Fitran's mind, reminding him of the consequences that came with the borrowed energy.
"Why don't we finish this now?" the pastor said firmly, his eyes alight with long-buried passion.
"That's what I want," Fitran replied, his voice calm yet filled with strong resolve.
The pastor smiled, reminiscing about the time he faced a crushing defeat against the Zircon tribe, bested by a youth he had never imagined could overcome him. Since then, he had been wandering in search of a way to avenge that humiliation. Now, as he returned to his hometown, he saw that very youth standing tall amidst the flames, bloodied yet embodying an unyielding symbol of rebirth and courage. With a piercing gaze, the young man looked at the pastor and asked:
"Are you going to kill me?" Fitran voiced the same question he had asked in the past, his tone trembling between bravery and fear.
Just like the response given before, the pastor gazed at him with intense focus.
"Of course. For the sake of my revenge and the joy you've destroyed," he replied, his voice brimming with conviction as he drew his final weapon from beneath his robe.
" Atlantis Bow Athena," he said, the name of the weapon rolling off his tongue like an incantation that enchanted the room.
Atlantis Bow Athena is the most powerful weapon possessed by the zircon tribe. With its incredible strength, this bow can shoot arrows across continents, making it a weapon feared by many nations. The gamma people, who often dominate battles, find themselves helpless against the deadly precision of this weapon. Thousands of arrows soar from a distance of over 10,000 km with an accuracy of 98%, piercing the sky calmly before striking their targets. Countless lives of the gamma nation have been lost in an instant due to the arrogance of this weapon. Fitran should have understood such power, yet he stood still, calm, as if everything had been thoroughly considered in his mind.
There are four types of arrows that are integral to this weapon. The first is the red arrow, symbolizing wisdom, followed by the blue arrow representing speed. Equally important is the yellow arrow, which signifies luck, and finally, there is the black arrow, filled with power. Each of these arrows holds different strengths, yet together, they create an unmatched force.
"You know the power of this weapon, yet not a drop of sweat has fallen from your body," the pastor said, casting a sharp gaze at Fitran.
Fitran smiled, a smile that held a mystery and calmness amidst the looming threat.
"I am merely a rat trapped in the chaos of the city, unsure of where to step next," Fitran replied, his expression serene.
"Alright then," the pastor responded in a calm tone, as if accepting the bitter reality that Fitran had revealed.
The pastor then drew his arrow back to its maximum limit, a palpable tension filling the air.
"First release, Genauigkeit," the pastor declared firmly, indicating the precise moment to launch the arrow.
"Wind up," Fitran said, synchronizing with the launch of the arrow, creating a synergy between them.
Whosh ....! The arrow shot forth faster than a flash of light, piercing through the surrounding space.
Around Fitran, a red gas coalesced, enveloping the area with a menacing atmosphere. Although the gas seemed to slightly slow the arrow's pace, nothing could stop it.
"Liquidation," the pastor's voice echoed, seemingly affirming the action that was about to take place.
The red gas suddenly expanded, transforming into a frightening mass of blood. The arrow finally halted just 0.5 mm away from Fitran's head, creating an incredibly tense moment.
"What other tricks are you using?" the pastor inquired, his voice filled with curiosity and amazement.
"This is what killed them," Fitran replied firmly, his eyes shining with conviction.
"Liquidation and wind up magic," the pastor exclaimed with enthusiasm, recognizing the significance of the knowledge they were discussing.
"Yup," replied Fitran, his smile reflecting the satisfaction of their shared understanding.
"By utilizing the viscosity of blood, I can create a barrier against the arrow's thrust, drastically reducing its pressure, even capable of stopping it," he continued, his voice brimming with enthusiasm as he explained his advanced technique.
"Fitran! You are truly fantastic," praised Pastor, his eyes shining with pride for his partner.
"But this is where the end of this battle lies," Fitran continued, confidently preparing a new arrow. This time, the arrow he chose looked mysterious, with its deep black color, seemingly harboring a powerful secret.
"Second release, Macht," with intense concentration and determination, Pastor aimed his arrow directly at the target's heart, emphasizing the purpose behind his attack.
Whosh! With a sound of rushing wind, the arrow soared through the air once more. Although its speed was far diminished compared to before, the underlying force remained impressive, cracking the floor beneath it with a deafening thud.
Thud...!
The arrow pierced Fitran's chest, creating a moment that triggered both relief and joy. The Pastor had struck the target precisely in the heart. With a burning spirit, he dashed toward Julie, eager to share the exhilaration of their victory. Meanwhile, Fitran lay helpless on the ground, the arrow still lodged in his chest, crafting a dramatically poignant scene.
Julie, who had seemed composed despite her restless thoughts, could no longer hold back her tears of happiness. She had faith in the Pastor's abilities, even as anxiety and hope intertwined within her throughout the battle.
"Finally," Julie said, a broad smile lighting up her face.
"Yes! Finally," replied the Pastor, mirroring her joy with a similar grin.
As Julie prepared for an embrace, a dark figure suddenly emerged from behind, lurking with a menacing presence. The cheerful Pastor remained oblivious to the looming threat, while Julie sensed the encroaching darkness and recognized the figure clearly. It turned out to be Fitran, revealing himself with a mysterious and terrifying aura.
Jleb...!
The Excalibur sword plunged into the Pastor's chest with a horrifying sound, as if tearing through the night's silence.
The pastor's eyes widened as he turned around, shock hitting him when he realized that Fitran was still alive. A sense of unease gripped his soul. What was happening? Gasping for breath, his body swayed as it fought against the pain, while blood poured from his wounds, splattering onto Julie's startled face. He screamed with all his might, but his voice seemed swallowed by the darkness surrounding them. In his final moments, the pastor struggled to interpret the words that slipped from Fitran's lips.
"W ... o ... r ... l ... d ... ... f ... r ... a ... c... t ... i ... o ... n"
As soon as he heard those words, the pastor collapsed to the ground, as if the weight of an unbearable burden pulled him into eternal darkness.
Meanwhile, Julie cried with all her heart, her tears streaming down like a torrential downpour, drowning out the sounds of the storm that Fitran had once felt. Deep sorrow weighed on her chest, creating an infinite void.
Tap... tap ... tap
Julie listened attentively to the sound of footsteps, committing it to her sharp memory. She was determined to remember every detail, from the shape of the soles echoing against the ground to the faint features visible in the darkness.
Suddenly, something surfaced in her mind. A long-buried memory seemed to come back to life. She focused on Fitran's face in the shadows of her recollection, attempting to piece together fragments of memories that had once been lost.
"You....
Hiks... hiks ... hiks
In a corner of the city, a young girl sobbed softly. Her tattered clothes revealed her lack of a safe haven, while the bruises littering her body bore silent witness to the violence she had just endured. The apples she had been selling lay scattered around her, crushed and rendered worthless. It was as if the little girl had just been mugged by cruel thugs right there.
Soon after, a gang of rough-looking men appeared. With battered faces and injuries, they walked with a limp; one among them even displayed a broken hand, while half of his teeth were missing, revealing a terrifying grin. They seemed hesitant and powerless, approaching the fallen girl to apologize. However, behind them, a sturdy boy suddenly emerged. Upon seeing him, the thugs' expressions shifted to fear, and without a second thought, they fled, leaving chaos and tension hanging in the air.
The little girl then picked up one of the dirty apples lying on the ground, its rough skin covered in dust and stains. With quick hands, she extended a strikingly clean cloth, much cleaner than her tattered clothes. She bowed her head, yet her gaze remained full of sincerity.
"That apple is dirty. Use this to clean it," the little girl said softly, her voice infused with empathy.
"Thank you," the boy said earnestly as he took the cloth, which now became a small bridge between them.
The girl's cheeks flushed, as if morning dew had gently touched her, adding a shine to the shy smile that graced her lips.
"How much is it?" the boy asked, his eyes shining with curiosity, as if trying to grasp the value of something he considered simple.
"Two bronze," the girl replied softly, almost as if sharing a little secret in their world.
The boy then took a gold coin from his pocket, the gleaming metal signifying his courage and confidence, preparing for the next step in their sweet interaction.
"Um, I don't have any change," the little girl said with a puzzled tone, her eyes darting toward the shining gold coin in the boy's hand, as if realizing how precious it truly was.
"It's okay, just take it," the boy replied calmly, before turning to leave the bewildered girl behind, her face reflecting uncertainty and curiosity.
"Hmm, what's your name?" the little girl asked, her voice trembling softly like a gentle breeze as she tried to catch the boy's attention, who was starting to walk away.
"Fitran Fate," the boy replied, a small smile spreading across his face, symbolizing the innocence of childhood filled with hope.
"Fate-san," she said, her gaze revealing a warm admiration.
"Just call me Fitran," he responded with a wide smile, his heart vibrating with joy.
"Okay, Fitran-san," the little girl replied, her smile growing brighter as she felt the warmth of the budding friendship.
For the little girl, that day was the most special day, a moment when she felt the stirrings of her first love. The gold bar she had worked so hard to obtain became a symbol of her hope to one day stand as a magic inspector, wishing to reunite with her hero.
Fitran could only remain silent, caught in a web of conflicting emotions. After a moment, he extended his hand, just as he had when he offered that golden rod, symbolizing the unbreakable bond between the past and the present.
This time, Julie seemed reluctant to accept the invitation; instead, she crawled toward the pastor's body, filled with longing as she reached for his hand, as if it were her last hope. Although her first love may have appeared to be mere childhood infatuation, her mind was consumed by yearning and regret. Tears fell heavily, not because of the loss of the pastor, but because she felt that her dignity as a woman had been shattered into pieces.
Tap... tap ... tap!!
Fitran hurried to follow Julie, hoping to stop her before her hand got any closer to the pastor.
"I am a filthy woman. I have sacrificed my body for someone I do not love, so let me remain dirty," she whispered, looking at Fitran with profound shame.
"Forgive me," Fitran replied, swinging his Excalibur sword toward Julie's body with deep regret.
Splat....!
Blood flowed profusely, splattering like red rain on Fitran's face, marking an irreversible action and corroding the peace within both their hearts, creating an atmosphere that was tense and filled with regret.
"Interesting," Mammon said, suddenly appearing from a shimmering portal, as if stepping out from another dimension.
"Even though you erased his memories, his love still chooses that man," Mammon added, his eyes gleaming with a strange satisfaction, as though revealing confusion behind a love that is timeless.
Fitran chuckled, his voice hinting at deep uncertainty and sorrow.
"Love is an intensity I do not understand," Fitran said, his voice trembling as if revealing his doubts about that feeling.
"Hmm," murmured Mammon, seemingly contemplating Fitran's words with sharp intelligence.
"I came here to tell you that I have canceled all my contracts except for yours," Mammon said with a sulky face, half surprised and half determined.
"Very well, as per our agreement. I will relinquish my memories and seal my powers," Fitran replied, his voice resolute despite the weight in his chest.
"And during that time, I won't be able to access anything from you, seven deadly demons..."
"Beelzebub,"
"Mammon,"
"I may not see you all for a while," Fitran said, his voice filled with silence and understanding of what was to come.