Chapter 653 Excalibur of Silence — The Law of the Crown Begins

Althur stood atop the ruins of the Stones altar. In his hand, Excalibur glimmered—but not as it once did. The light trembled with latent energy, forming a circle of illumination that enveloped the sword. With each pulse, its sharp rays created an intimidating depth, like a chasm ready to swallow his foes.

The light was no longer soft or pure. Instead, it was silent. A silence that offered no hope… only a final decision. A silence that judged. In this faint noise, Althur felt every pore of his body filled with tension, his eyes sparkling with unwavering determination and intent.

From the sword, a line of Proto-Speech formed:

ꦏꦸꦩ꧀ꦧꦼꦤꦺꦴꦱꦺꦴꦤ꧀ꦢꦺꦭ꧀ꦧꦼꦤ꧀ꦝꦤ

Kumenosondel Bendhan

(Anyone whose name is unworthy… will be erased from the roots of history.)

Althur swung Excalibur toward the Stones with a forceful motion. A flash of light struck, creating a shockwave that tore through the air around him. The sound of the wind whistled, adding drama as the light touched the ground, leaving gaping cracks in the altar's surface.

It was not light that emerged.

But a linguistic vacuum—a wave of anti-meaning that swept through the pillars of Proto-Speech. It was as if all meaning had been sucked into darkness, igniting a sense of dread in Sheena's heart.

Sheena, who was trying to reactivate the protective roots, was thrown back. Her glyph was unreadable. The roots did not recognize her name. Every attempt to restore her power was thwarted by the deep pressure of this unmatched energy. Her expression changed, a mix of determination and fear etched on her tightly pressed lips.

From the shadows of the ruins, the rumble of the universe began to echo, as if responding to the emptiness that had occurred. A soft, deep voice, like a thousand whispers merging into one, created a vibration that touched the soul. The light that once radiated now left only a dark shadow, swallowing hope and revealing a stark horror.

"She is… erasing us from the world's root system…" she said, her breath catching as she felt the brutal vibrations in every pulse, her face pale. In her heart, she tried to absorb every detail of the battle unfolding, searching for a gap to fight against this helplessness.

Around her, thick fog began to envelop, adding a mystical impression to this tense situation. Every heartbeat felt like a thrum in the chilling silence, reminding Sheena that hope was just a glimmer of light at the end of a dark tunnel.

Rinoa screamed:

"FITRAN! Rise!"

Fitran slowly stood, his face contorted in pain. Blood dripped from his temple, each drop glistening in the dim light around him. His body was cracked by Althur's structural magic, revealing black lines that split his skin. Around him, the night wind whispered softly, as if instilling hope amidst the pain that enveloped him. The dark sky sparkled with stars that seemed to pray for him, casting a dim light that did not fade even in the darkness.

Yet he opened his eyes, gazing forward with a longing for the freedom that had been snatched away.

And he said:

"That sword is no longer part of this world. So I will fight… as those who cannot be erased."

In an instant, the atmosphere around him roared, reflecting his resolve. He grasped at nothing, while a thousand attack plans spun in his mind. But in his hand… light appeared.

Not a sword. Not a glyph.

But fragments of wounds—memories of a world that did not fit into the system. They floated around him, whispering like the wind, reminding Fitran of all the struggles and sacrifices he had endured.

Althur raised Excalibur, the sword shining with a sharp gleam like a falling star. He uttered a command:

Decreta Sanguinis: Erase the Name of Harmony

"Rinoa Alfrenzo, you have never been sung by the world. Therefore you… have never lived in the roots."

Fitran felt dark power flowing from Excalibur, battling the wave of fear within him. With a swift motion, Althur swung the sword, and the air around them trembled, creating a wave of emptiness that tore through the ground, leaving large cracks that revealed chunks of rocky earth.

Fitran, awakened by that power, moved in unison. He dodged to the side, avoiding the devastating attack with incredible speed. His expression showed fierce determination, his eyes sparkling with the spirit to fight against annihilation. With a graceful spinning motion, he attempted to counterattack, throwing a fist toward Althur, who smiled cynically, ready to face the blow.

As Fitran's hand glided, the movement summoned bright yellow light that spiraled, illuminating his surroundings. Quickly, Althur raised Excalibur to parry the attack, producing a loud clang that echoed in the air, sending sparks of light in all directions, as if the two swords clashing released a mesmerizing magical illusion.

Althur grimaced, his muscles tensing. He prepared to strike back. With a dramatic motion, he swung Excalibur toward Fitran, leaving a trail of fire as if the space between them had been shattered by the speed of his attack. Fitran lowered his body, hissing as mysterious energy flowed from Excalibur, creating a stretch of dark energy that slid past him, tearing through nearby trees and turning the wind into a storm.

Fitran, focused and ready to respond, bowed his head and quickly slid to the side, his feet striking the hard ground. Each of his attacks left a mark of physical damage on the earth, dust and debris swirling in the air. His face was filled with courage, blood tears dripping from his temple, creating a symbol of suffering and hope intertwined.

Althur approached, forming a cold aura around him, ready to launch a decisive attack. His smile widened as he raised Excalibur and shouted a spell that split the silence of the night, unleashing an explosion of light that threatened to drown Fitran in a wave of power.

A wave of silence exploded from the sky, tearing through the stillness with a thunderous roar that echoed throughout the arena. Rinoa fell, her face filled with doubt and fear. A silent voice filled the space, as if time had stopped and all beings hid from the presence of that power. Amidst her burning heartbeat, she felt every breath filled with uncertainty.

Her body was uninjured. But her name began to fade from the roots. As her name vanished, shadows of the past danced before her eyes, filled with beautiful memories she could no longer touch. Darkness threatened, and hope began to evaporate as her trace faded from this world.

The roots did not recognize the sound of her voice. The spirits did not call for her. Even the Tree of Scars… could not remember that she had once been an Avatar. Beneath the shadow of that terrifying tree, the wind blew softly, carrying the damp scent of burnt earth. Around her, the moonlight illuminated the ruins with a mysterious silver hue, as if peeking from behind the curtain of darkness.

Fitran leaped forward with a fluid motion, as if gliding over the ground. In his eyes, there was a flash of fiery spirit, mixed with unspoken sorrow. Each of his steps shook the earth, awakening echoes from layers of time that lay dormant. As he prepared to attack, his muscles tensed, and a focused expression adorned his face.

With pure energy from his will, he created a new technique: the Cosmos seemed to roll and swell, producing a vibrating sound that colored the air before he stepped forward. When the movement was launched, a sparkling blue light radiated from his hand, forming intricate patterns in the air that swirled before striking. His attack felt like it hit an invisible wall, creating destructive vibrations around them.

The pillars of the ruins around them trembled violently, dust flying, and small stones were thrown by the wave of energy created by Fitran's attack. As Excalibur shone with a golden light, each swing of the sword resembled a flash of lightning, leaving a trail of sparkling light in the air. The blow physically scratched the ground, creating cracks that spread from the point of impact.

As Fitran launched his attack, his expression showed determination and disappointment. He paused for a moment, feeling the weight of history on his shoulders, before continuing his steps with renewed spirit. Rinoa, though trying to protect herself, appeared tense; sweat swept across her forehead, and her wide eyes reflected the inner battle she faced, caught between hope and despair.

With a lightning-fast movement, Rinoa countered the attack with the Unnamed Blade that shimmered, swinging her sword horizontally and creating a wave of energy that surged toward Fitran. As the two forces collided, an explosion of light occurred, illuminating the area with a dazzling glow, and its tremors produced vibrations in the air that disrupted the night.

Unnamed Blade – Fracture of the Remembered

This attack had no form.

But each slash filled the void with meaning. Every movement was not just an attack; it was like painting in the air, creating glowing lines that vibrated before disappearing. She slashed toward Excalibur, and in an instant, the light from the legendary weapon shone brighter, as if ready to reveal its power. Shattering two layers of crown law, the slash left visible ripples of energy, as if time had paused for a moment. In that moment, the rumble of nature seemed to support her, as if it had consciousness. The sound of clashing metal filled the air as their swords met—shockwaves surged, as if striking the ground and lifting dust. The distant fire flickered and danced, a reflection of her inner turmoil ignited by struggle, casting dramatic shadows on her determined face.

The crown sword and human wounds collided. The ground split beneath their feet, each blow leaving deep scratches, fragments of stone flying like rain when unable to contain the power of the two weapons. In the explosion of energy, shards of light scattered, sparkling like stars blown from the sky, adding to the dramatic atmosphere. As the Unnamed Blade launched another attack, her feet left smoldering marks on the ground, creating a glowing pattern behind her. An extra heartbeat amidst the chaos created a magical rhythm, vibrating as the laws of the universe were challenged, decorating the battle with a reasonably rhythmic pattern. Yet, every movement was accompanied by a tense expression. Rinoa felt every attack, her eyes widening as she realized she was too close to a shattered world.

Silent light collided with a voice that had yet to speak. Each time Excalibur trembled, Althur's face showed a mix of determination and anger, his lips curling into a cynical smile while sweat dampened his temples, reminding him that every attack was a matter of life or death. With each second, a sense of unease filled the atmosphere, adding weight to every movement, as if time slowed. Stones… were in ruins.

The Tree of Scars began to burn from the bottom, turning the once bright sky into a dark cloud signaling disaster; clusters of leaves fell like rain, flowing around the battleground. Each heartbeat made him feel as if the world around him was collapsing. Rinoa cried—not out of fear. But because the world was on the verge of losing her. Those tears were a symbol of hope that would not extinguish, radiating a soft light amidst the suffocating emptiness.

"Fitran…" her voice sounded, faint.

"I don't want the world to be like this," she cried, tightly clutching her past and future in a single word clenched with tension throughout her body.

Althur drew Excalibur. With each breath, the legendary weapon shimmered, as if responding to its owner's call. The blue light radiating from its blade shattered the darkness of the night, creating a terrifying shadow around him. The night wind swirled around him, forming a gentle vortex, creating a tense silence. He stepped forward, planting his right foot into the hard ground, producing a thud in the stillness of the night. Star light adorned the sky, highlighting the firm expression on Althur's face, reflected in the peace clashing with the pain gnawing at the earth.

"This world can only be saved if there are no more names. No will. No cries. Only rules."

Fitran stood tall, staring at Althur with uncertainty that pressed upon his soul. As he drew the Unnamed Blade, the weapon radiated a dazzling red light, as if ready to destroy. In his heart, he felt the weight of the past, beautiful and bitter memories he wanted to forget but could not. His body nearly crumbled, affected by the pressure that opposed his heart's desire. Was there any hope left in this darkness? His voice trembled, as if the world around him was filled with magical fog. He swung his sword swiftly, creating sharp red lines of light, consuming the space around him with deadly precision.

"Then… let the world choose with the final wound."

The battle began. Althur attacked first, swinging Excalibur in a circular motion that split the air. The blade emitted a shrill sound as it cut through the wind, and when it touched the ground, sparks of light appeared like fireflies in the night. Fitran responded with a quick counterattack, the Unnamed Blade radiating a red aura that seemed to swallow the light around it. Each clash between the two weapons produced explosions of energy that shook the ground, causing deep cracks in the earth's surface.

With a swift movement, Althur jumped back to avoid Fitran's attack, sidestepping gracefully. His expression was full of focus, his eyes shining sharply like Excalibur in his grip. He quickly spun his blade, creating a rain of light that pierced the darkness, confusing his opponent before turning to attack again. The attack came with devastating speed, resulting in a loud thud as the two swords met. The visual elements of Excalibur's power were clearly visible, as if each movement generated waves of energy vibrating in the air.

Fitran did not lose momentum; he launched a counterattack, his movements agile and precise, but with each strike, there was a sense of tension on his face. His body moved quickly and gracefully, each step making him seem to dance in the thrilling battle. He spun strands of red light from the Unnamed Blade, creating an energy net that sought to reach Althur. The surrounding environment was affected by the force of their attacks, nearby trees breaking and debris flying, creating a scene that was both terrifying and mesmerizing.

And from the ground that began to burn, as if condensing in despair, the sky grew darker, enveloping everything in a long verse. The rumble of thunder added to the dramatic atmosphere, awakening a sense of fear that lingered in the hearts of the onlookers. The final Proto-Speech of this chapter emerged:

"ꦏꦶꦤ꧀ꦢꦸꦤ ꦤꦏ꧀ꦤꦺꦴꦤꦶꦁ —"

Kindun Naknôning

(Even the unnamed… have the right to stand.)