Chapter 608 Denied Will

The sky above Stones has lost its color. There is no more morning. There is no more night. Only an old gray sky, like a sheet of paper that has been kept too long without any words. Beneath it, the entire city begins to curve slowly. The walls of the buildings lean inward, as if the world is bowing to something invisible—a sound, or more precisely, a single note that never stops. In that silent roar, shadows among the ruins seem to dance, waving to reveal fleeting shapes of those who once existed. In forgotten corners, shadows sneak, creating the illusion that something is watching. The walls seem to whisper, holding unspoken secrets, inviting anxiety in the hearts of those sensitive to the presence that is unseen.

Fitran is still in the unmarked room, sitting cross-legged in front of the sound-producing white sphere. The atmosphere around him seems to vibrate softly, as if time itself is observing in silence. He has not spoken to anyone for two full days, not moved, not eaten. Yet, there is a faint light touching his face, as if a mysterious energy flows between them. But his body remains alive, as if cared for by something deeper than his own will. In the silence, his mind wanders through the corridors of memory, tracing every second that seems to freeze time. Often, he recalls the joyful laughter of his friends, voices that now seem forgotten. The sound from the sphere vibrates gently, as if playing a song of sorrow that can only be understood by souls trapped between worlds and fate.

Rinoa stands not far from the threshold of the room. Her eyes are red from lack of sleep. She knows this is no longer about sound. In her mind, she envisions Fitran, increasingly alienated, as if he is drifting away from all reality. Though her fingers tremble, she tries to focus, feeling the subtle vibrations that pass through the air. It's as if this world surrounds her in darkness, an inescapable feeling weighing on her heart. Her face pales as she realizes that her steps will determine the state of things. Each second adds weight to the burden on her shoulders, and in that silence, worry lingers, as if the world is no longer friendly.

This is about Fitran, who is beginning to be rejected by the world.

The Tree of Life—once intertwined with the pulse of the world—begins to show signs of rejection. The roots that were once welcoming now writhe anxiously, as if sensing the panic flowing through the earth. Uncertainty envelops Rinoa; she feels as if a faint voice whispers in her soul about the importance of maintaining balance. Among the rustling winds, an unusual scent of sap fills the air, a sign that something greater is happening. Some pull away from the center of Stones, while others curl tightly against the walls, creating a spiral pattern that looks like a protective circle from something deemed dangerous.

Rinoa observes this change from the root observation room. Her heart races, as if aware of the danger lurking behind the silence. Shadows move in the corners of her eyes, making her feel isolated in the unseen turmoil. In her silence, the whispering wind seems to carry messages from nature, murmuring names long forgotten, as if reminding her of the secrets buried within the roots.

"Tree of Life... locking itself from the city center," reports a magic guardian with a hoarse voice, as if his words are holding back anxiety. "This has never happened before." Upon hearing this, Rinoa feels a deep sadness; a thread connecting the roots and her life begins to thin. She knows that every change threatens balance, a sign that time is turning against them.

The main roots even sever their connection with the Genesis Chamber—where Proto-Speech is usually translated. A painful silence fills the air, making every breath feel like a threat. A message appears in the form of natural writing, formed from the luminous sap of the roots, shining in the darkness: Rinoa stares at the writing, her soul vibrating; is this truly a call from the past? Is there something greater waiting for her behind the meaning written?

ꦏꦸꦤꦺꦴ ꦥꦼꦴꦫꦶꦱ ꦏꦺꦴꦤ꧀ꦢꦺꦴ — Kuno Pewaris Kondo

(The heir becomes alien.)

In the sound room, Fitran's body begins to exhibit strange symptoms. His left hand slowly turns blue, not from poison or cold, but because his body is being rejected by the roots of the world. He feels the heavy burden of meaning on his shoulders, as if every pulse of his veins is a prohibition from the remnants that once lived under the shelter of the roots. In the stinging pain, he senses a dim light from within, as if a wounded soul is calling for attention. His veins form a distorted Proto-Speech pattern, like a spell forced to emerge from his bones. A soft whisper is heard, while the walls of the world around him vibrate, as if responding to his presence. Like a blurry image, the face of a deep elder flashes in his memory, akin to a glimpse of a dream about forgotten power and unfulfilled promises.

Strange dreams come every time he closes his eyes. In his sleep, he sees himself—yet faceless—walking among the ruins of Stones folded in a distorted dimension. The scent of damp earth and peeling from the ruins fills his nostrils, reminding him of a life long lost. And every creature that sees him... runs away. Even the earth refuses to be touched by him. The roaring sound of the wind dancing with his shadow makes him feel something profound, as if nature is warning him of a dangerous journey. In his restlessness, he feels as if that shadow is guiding him, as if his fate is woven in a fine thread that can only be understood by a soul trapped in a thousand secrets.

Yet... that single note continues to sing to him. Filling the silent space that presses down, giving meaning, as the world cuts off. That voice becomes a warm embrace in the midst of the burning darkness, offering hope as the feeling of rejection stabs deeper. And in the embrace of that voice, he feels the echo of the same pain, connected to every soul that is forced to hide from the world's gaze. He remembers the silent prayers whispered every night, waiting for an answer, even though that answer often comes wrapped in doubt.

"If the world rejects me," Fitran whispers, "then perhaps... the world is no longer worthy of trust." In his heart, he feels a new strength flowing, fighting against the opposing wind. Hope surges in his chest, giving him new energy even though he knows how slim his chances are of being accepted again. Remembering the lessons he brought from the holes of history, he begins to piece together the stones of knowledge that form the strongest weapon within him: conviction. Every memory, every pain becomes important pieces in his quest.

On the third day, Rinoa tries to enter the sound room again. The air feels heavier, as if strumming the strings of tension stretched between courage and fear. She tries to calm her racing heart, battling the whispers in her mind that seek to undermine her spirit. The cold creeping into her bones reminds her of the fighting spirit that never fades—that is what she must hold onto as she steps forward.

But this time, the roots of the Tree of Life appear before her—creating a living wall. They rise high, branching out like giant fingers, blocking the way. Their roots are not attacking, but pleading. They coil like hands, signaling one request:

"Do not let him come closer."

Rinoa falls to her knees, her heart racing as if feeling the resistance from every fiber of the roots. In her mind, doubt and hope vie for space, preparing words that have never been spoken. "Why are you rejecting him?" she cries. Her voice shatters the silence, echoing among the thick living walls. "He is just trying to understand!"

But the answer appears on the root wall:

ꦲꦸꦩꦤ꧀ ꦏꦸꦢꦺ ꦏꦭꦶꦱ꧀ — Huma Kudé Kalish

(He has crossed the limits of will.)

Every word feels like a strong wind hitting her face, pushing her back and urging her to reconsider her steps. In every heartbeat, there is a whisper reminding her of the secrets hidden in the dark, as if trying to give her clues about the truth waiting to be discovered. What are the consequences of her decision? She knows this tension is just the beginning of a deeper journey, a greater war between understanding and rejection.

The roots move quickly, breaking into the sound room. They coil around Fitran's legs, then his shoulders. As if unsheathing the secrets buried in his mind, the roots drag him deeper into the folds of darkness. Fear begins to seep into him, but at the same time, an unexpected courage also starts to rise. The white sphere emitting sound slowly sinks into the ground, dimming along with the thinning hope. The room begins to close.

But Fitran does not resist. He is trapped in a terrifying dance between life and death, between hope and despair. Each heartbeat seems to become the song of time, singing a dark poem that can only be understood by souls trapped in darkness. He feels as if a shadow from the past haunts him, reminding him of all the dreams he once had.

He gazes at the roots and calmly says, "You are afraid. Not because I am wrong... but because I touch something you cannot control." His voice trembles among the roar of the roots, bouncing back to him like an echo in a dark cave. Slowly, he draws courage from the depths of his heart, igniting the flickering flame of hope within him.

The roots coil tighter, beginning to suck fragments of meaning from his body. The magic veins in Fitran's body begin to glow red. Proto-Speech symbols appear and then shatter, reappearing and then melting away. They intertwine like shaken hopes, waiting to be revealed. In that dimness, all of Fitran's courage awakens, staring down the threatening fate. Among the swirling symbols, he feels a trembling call from the threat that nearly silences his voice.

Rinoa screams and runs through the roots, ignoring the pain that cuts into her skin. Each step feels like challenging the gods of darkness, as if her life is awakened by a brave love. With every heartbeat, her fear blazes, but her determination only strengthens her resolve. She feels the warmth of magic flowing around her, and like an unyielding fortress, she will not back down.

"I will not let you be rejected by the world!" she shouts. "If the world does not accept you, then let me... become my own world with you!" Those words flow like a river, breaking through all obstacles, awakening belief in Fitran, as if reviving the spirit buried in the darkness of night. In her heart, she knows that every second with him is a resistance, a call to fight against the terrifying fate.

Fitran looks at her, smiling weakly. "Don't say that... Then the world will reject you too." A cold sensation creeps into his heart, as if reminding him of the price to be paid for true love. In his deep eyes, a longing reflects that cannot be expressed in words, as if the world around him fades away.

Suddenly, the roots stop. The entire Tree of Life... vibrates.

In the profound silence, the air is filled with an aura rich with hope and fear. But behind that fear lies an unexpected strength, ready to protect those he loves. Then... it releases Fitran.

His body falls to the floor. However, before he touches the hard surface, a beam of light ignites, as if embracing him for the last time. But the white sphere—the source of the single note—vanishes, returning to the earth, as if merging back with the ancient structure. And at that moment, Fitran feels a gentle whisper from the darkness promising... change.

And the last Proto-Speech that emerged from the roots that day was just one:

ꦥꦸꦮꦫꦶꦱ ꦥ꦳ꦺꦴꦤꦸꦠꦶꦱ꧀ — Pewaris Ponutis

(The heir has been suspended.)

Fitran awakens with a gasp. Rinoa embraces him, disregarding her own wounds, feeling their heartbeats merge in unspoken tension. Around them, the world is silent. No more vibrations of sound. When Fitran opens his eyes, he feels as if there is something deeper in their souls, a bond woven not only by blood but also by the mysteries surrounding them.

No one knows how long that moment lasts; time seems frozen, filling the air with a terrifying uncertainty. However... it does not mean it is lost.

It is just... hiding deeper.

And Fitran knows, that note is not his. He has become a part of it. In his mind, a shadow passes, carrying a glimmer of memory about the voices that once resonated, filling the emptiness within him with a faint hope. The sense of ownership grows, drawing him into an unbreakable bond.

And the world... has yet to decide whether to destroy him or use him.