Chapter 643 The Heart of the Golem and the Final Gift

The Colosseum had partially collapsed. The Stones in the sky slowly began to pulse again. Yet amidst the ruins, one heartbeat continued to echo.

With each pulse, there was a vibration that stirred memories of the past, as if reminding them of what was lost and what could return. The distance between life and death seemed to vanish in a terrifying sigh; it was the sound of a heart struggling to call life back. Tension filled the air, making everyone present feel an unavoidable threat.

The Heart of Alexander. Not a biological heart, nor an ordinary mechanical one, but the Core of Command—a fragment of existence capable of activating every golem construct still bound to the old imperial system.

Suddenly, a voice echoed from the darkness of the ruins, "We cannot let it live!" A soldier, fearful of the heart's power, shouted, his voice trembling with fear and doubt among his comrades. Every eye turned to the pulsating part in the midst of the ruins, a ruler of the past, waiting to be awakened from the darkness.

And before it…

Fitran stood.

He gazed with determination, as if sensing the weakness hidden behind the heart's power. In a low tone, he whispered to his followers, "If we unleash this power without preparation, we may become trapped in chaos… once again." The vibrations of the rubble around them became more pronounced, reminding them of the potential disaster that could unfold in mere seconds.

The heart did not beat like a normal one. It projected echoes. Within those echoes, fragments of history emerged:

The Golem forces at the Zora border. The machine temple in the north of Gamma. The sleeping city in the Logis fields, where 10,000 golems awaited commands that never came.

"All of them… still connected to this core," Sheena said softly.

Her lips trembled as she realized the immense burden they faced. In her heart, she felt a flicker of doubt; as she contemplated the consequences of destroying the heart, what if all those horrific tales came to life again? The connection was both a promise and a threat, and the choice they had to make felt as heavy as the stones pressing down on them.

Rinoa whispered, "If we destroy that heart, they will die forever."

"Forever…" Rinoa's voice echoed amidst the chaos, igniting the backdrop of all the buried fears. "Are we ready to erase everything that has happened?" she asked next, looking at Fitran, waiting for his answer. As the atmosphere grew tense, everyone fell silent, awaiting the crucial decision that would determine their fate.

Fitran replied,

"And if we activate it without the right direction… they could repeat history."

He understood completely. Each pulse was a warning for them, and what they chose at that moment would determine whether darkness would overshadow them again or if they would find a way to break the cycle of cruelty that had lasted too long.

The figure of Alexander now lay as mere fragments of stone in the arena, lifeless yet not empty. On the forehead of the statue was inscribed a single sentence:

"Eternity is not victory. But never forgotten."

Fitran reached out to the heart. The magic within him resisted—because this object was not made for humans.

Yet his will… was no longer entirely human.

The cold night wind carried soft whispers from the past, as if reminding Fitran of all the battles he had endured. Each step he took into the arena echoed in his heart, reminding him of the pain and sacrifices he had made for the revival of hope. Cold sweat trickled down his forehead, mixing anxiety and determination that seemed never to fade.

The void within him resonated. Rinoa's song, the echo of Sheena's roots, and his own courage… formed a new interface.

As his hand drew closer to the weakly pulsating heart, Fitran felt a strong pull, as if ancient power touched his soul. He paused for a moment, feeling two worlds collide within him—one that led him to glory, and one that reminded him of all that was lost. With eyes shining with determination, he continued his hand's movement, ready to face any consequences that might arise from his choice.

The moment the heart was touched, the entire Stones vibrated. Proto-Speech appeared in the sky, forming glyphs that moved on their own.

And in the distance—at the border of the Stones shrouded in mist—there was the sound of a giant metal rising.

For a moment, time seemed to stop. The vibration was not just a mechanical shift; it felt like an ancient incantation rising from the depths of the earth, transcending the boundaries of human understanding. Rinoa felt her heart race, each beat seemingly in sync with the thunderous sound filling the air.

The damp aroma of wet earth and minerals filled her senses, creating a peace that contrasted with the tension. She knew something great and ancient was being awakened, something more than just a machine; it was a legacy of a lost civilization that once ruled the world.

One by one, the Ancient Golems emerged:

Their bodies towered like skyscrapers. Their eyes were like cracked crystals. Their weapons… were inactive.

Yet they did not attack. They simply knelt.

As the Ancient Golems became clear, Rinoa felt the intimidating presence of a historical chasm. In their silence, they waited, as if anticipating a call from the maestro who had now awakened from his slumber. The atmosphere grew more tense; every second felt like eternity in Rinoa's heart.

"They… hear the new command," Rinoa murmured.

The echo of her voice soared between the walls of the Stones, drawing the attention of the ancient beings. Rinoa realized that with the newly presented power, they might be able to do more than just give commands. A hope, and simultaneously a fear, intertwined in her mind, reminding her of the responsibility now resting on her shoulders. What would she command next?

In her mind, Fitran now stood in the interface space of root-void, where will and logic met. He saw a list of thousands of golem units that had previously only obeyed an absolute system. The atmosphere around him surged, as if the clamor of battle breaking the silence called him to act, and the flow of interstellar energy surged, awakening a power he had never felt before.

And the only way to break that cycle…

Was not through commands. But through questions.

He rewrote the core command: A mantra vibrated in the air, breaking the darkness and replacing uncertainty with hope. As if the objects around him paused for a moment, listening intently, waiting with bated breath.

You do not have to obey. But if you choose to stand… then stand as the guardians of this world—not as rulers.

An anxious feeling lingered in the interface space; Fitran could sense the vibrations from every connected golem. The distance separating them began to fade. A history filled with blood and fear seemed etched in every fragment of metal and stone, and now hope emerged from the ashes of emptiness.

Across the world, the sleeping Ancient Golems began to adjust. They formed a shield in the conflict zone. They absorbed the destructive magic leaking from the ancient ruins. They… guarded. And no longer attacked.

Yet, behind this calm, an invisible magical vibration crept through the ground. Like fine threads weaving together lost souls, they slowly began to remember their history. Dark clouds gathered on the horizon, signaling that a new threat might rise from the shadows.

Sheena looked at him, amazed. Her eyes studied the large figures moving harmoniously, without instilling fear.

"You did not take power. You returned will to them."

Rinoa nodded, but in her heart, there was a wave of questions. What did freedom mean without direction? As her thoughts drifted, distant noise could be heard, echoing as if responding to their presence.

"That heart… finally beats not as a command center, but as the resonance of collective consciousness."

The sky of the Stones slowly allowed light to enter.

Fitran stood with the heart of Alexander in his hands, which had now changed color: from hard gold to a pulsing clear crystal, signifying willingness, not power.

Each pulse gave a gentle vibration, as if sensing that it was part of something greater, a tapestry of fate involving many beings. He felt something waiting, anticipating the moment to be revealed. The light piercing the sky seemed to invite them to listen to the whispering winds.

He handed the heart to Rinoa, hoping that this act would bring new hope. When her fingers touched the heart, Rinoa felt an incredible flow of energy, as if the world was whispering to her to move forward and not retreat.

"If one day the world begins to forget… then sing this tune again. Not for victory. But to remember all who once stood in silence."

And in the air, Proto-Speech wrote:

ꦏꦸꦠꦸꦤ꧀ꦠꦶ ꦥꦼꦩꦸ ꦧꦼꦩ ꦤꦢ ꦭꦤ —

"Kutunti Pemuh Bema Nada Lana"

("Victory is not power. But a song that is not forced.")

In the midst of silence, those notes began to resonate in the air, as if reviving long-buried memories. The sound of ancient instruments crescendoed, adding depth to the emotions, making every soul that heard it feel touched. The listeners whispered among themselves, trying to grasp the essence of the meaning behind the echoing melody.

"Can we really change fate?" a young man asked with doubt, his voice softly buzzing among the crowd. His question hung in the air, torn between fragments of hope and doubt. They knew it was not just the sound produced, but the power embedded in every note and lyric.

With all their hearts, they stepped forward, as if merging with the flow of melody that carried them to a higher place within their souls. The twinkling lights around them created a stunning contrast with the darkness of the night, adding a magical impression as they were empowered by music that transcended the boundaries between reality and fantasy.