The remnants of the spiral world now linger only as faint memories. In the once-vibrant realm of shining cities and towering forests, all that remains is an emptiness—a sea of trembling blue lilies swaying in the cold wind, and thin clouds drifting like lost souls, weaving patterns that seem to dance in the silence. The sounds of humanity, of Yokai, and of machines have faded over time, each voice waning until they vanish one by one—replaced only by the echoes of screams or whispers of names that never find closure.

  Fitran stood alone, ensnared within the swirling mist of spirits and the shroud of death's petals. The Voidlight he held had dimmed to a mere flicker, casting a grey glow that mirrored his dwindling hopes. Kagutsuchi, the half-spirit, half-dragon, watched him with eyes blazing like brilliant blue flames, her sickle trembling in hand—sometimes appearing solid, other times dissolving like illusions in heavy fog.

  Kagutsuchi snorted, her voice echoing, hitting the very core of his being.

  “This world is undeserving of guardianship. Today, the last name will be erased in silence.”

  Fitran gripped the Voidlight tightly, his gaze resolute and unyielding.

  “I did not come to preserve a name. My purpose is to end this field of restless souls that constantly hunger for more.”

  Kagutsuchi lifted her sickle high, her power sending ripples through the air...

  Fitran gripped the Voidlight tightly, his eyes brimming with resolve.

  “I haven’t come here to preserve a name. My purpose is to put an end to this endless field of wandering souls, eternally starved.”

  Kagutsuchi raised her scythe high, the sheer force of her presence making the air quiver.

  “If that’s what you desire, we shall forge Oblivion—a realm entirely anew.”

  From Kagutsuchi's scythe, a massive spiral of fire began to spiral outward, swirling around them. Each blue lily petal ignited into flames, forming an enormous wall that enveloped the battlefield, deceiving the eye into perceiving beauty amidst inescapable void. The ground trembled beneath them—sky, souls, everything slowly torched, fading into the embrace of darkness. Names, memories, even the very essence of who they were seemed to evaporate from their bodies, leaving only silence and fog, hanging in the stillness.

  A giant circle of spiraling fire coiled around the sky, draped in the burning red light. Each blue lily transformed into a flame, crafting a colossal barrier that encircled the battlefield—an illusion that tricked the senses into perceiving beauty in the looming emptiness.

  Fitran, with the Voidlight firmly embedded in the ground, spoke in a flat yet resonant voice, igniting tension around them.

  “Oblivion Core,” he declared, his voice rough yet laden with determination.

  The spiraling field that enveloped Fitran radiated an intense aura of emptiness. Every element crossing that area—name, will, form—vanished as if erased by fate, leaving Fitran with a suffocating sense of loss. He felt as though his entire existence was merely a shadow of something much greater that had now vanished. The spiral flames of Kagutsuchi struck swiftly, yet crumbled as if powerless before they could reach him, a stark reminder of how easily everything could collapse. But as time crept on, the void began to shrink—pinched by the spiral of death outside, lurking and waiting to seize its chance to claim him.

  Kagutsuchi, her gaze ablaze, held a trembling scythe in her hand.

  “Spiral Lily Flame!” she cried, her voice alive with passion, channeling energy and emotion from her very soul.

  Her piercing cry reverberated through the air, ignited by her fervor, summoning thousands of fiery lily flowers that writhed around her, creating a blazing storm that consumed all in its path. Each vibrant petal clung to Fitran’s body like tentacles attempting to infiltrate his being, surrounding his heart with a new identity—not merely to burn, but to strip away everything he held dear, transforming them into foes or traitors in his own eyes.

  Fitran, his face calm even as his heart brimmed with pain, spoke in a cold, even tone, devoid of any inflection.

  “Null Command.”

  His words, nothing more than a whisper, carried the weight of silence, a spell lingering in the air like the last flicker of hope. Waves of energy surged through the darkness, stripping away all meaning tethered to his soul, neutralizing each deadly strike, and restoring tranquility amid the roar of turmoil crashing down around him.

  All around him, the silence receded, yet the spirals of death and anxiety still twisted, threatening from unseen angles. Even the quiet felt stiff, vibrating with tension, as if ready to explode at any moment while Fitran leaned at the brink of an abyss of emptiness.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  Kagutsuchi, her voice haunting, seemed to pierce through his very soul.

  “You're ensnared. Alone, you bear the weight of this world. No one can shoulder it by themselves.”

  Fitran, his gaze intent, spoke in a flat tone loaded with unvoiced fury, a mirror to his inner turmoil.

  “This world is a prison that has existed long before we were born. I'm merely continuing the legacy of emptiness.”

  Kagutsuchi, her scythe glimmering in the shadows, reflected a deep, aching sorrow.

  “Identity Collapse!”

  Energy swirled around him like a raging storm, crashing into Fitran with a ferocity he never anticipated. It felt as if he were a marked target, all the elements clashing and colliding within him—his identity shattered, guilt consuming him, love left unspoken, the flames of betrayal raging, each feeling wandering ceaselessly. Versions of himself materialized before his eyes—their cries echoing loudly; some were trapped in the battlefield, while others scrambled for escape, a few transforming into gods, and many more vanished, taking with them the remnants of helpless souls. Their words spun in the chaos, piercing like shards of loss, each whisper ensnaring another in an endless void.

  Fitran gasped, his Voidlight fading into the suffocating darkness.

  “Anti-Memory,” he croaked, his voice hoarse, revealing depths of sorrow yet to be voiced. He wiped away every trace Kagutsuchi sought to leave behind, his eyes keen as they tracked each fragment of his shadow breaking apart, as if unraveling the threads of a grim tale. Only one Fitran remained—void of identity, devoid of purpose, merely existing in the oppressive silence of a battlefield steeped in despair, his body slumped, seemingly weighed down by the heavy emptiness that clung to him.

  Kagutsuchi raised her scythe, the sound of its swing resonating through the air.

  “Death Mosaic!” she shouted, her voice reverberating, a blend of pride and fury. The sky fractured, and her spiral world shattered into worthless fragments, each displaying tales of mourning: forgotten names, souls trapped in unending sorrow, families toppled by despair. A deathly mosaic stretched before Fitran, as if seeking to draw him into the dark web of trapped souls, promising both power and devastation.

  Fitran's voice pierced the silence, firm and courageous.

  “Spiral Demise,” he declared with burning conviction, his face frozen in disbelief but his heart rejecting fear. He understood what lay before him—a chain of death—but a glimmer of hope ignited his eyes. With a swift motion, he harnessed Voidlight, its energy shifting, poised for the perfect moment to strike. His body trembled, the emotions bottled within him slowly bursting forth, creating a defiant roar that challenged the heavens. As he prepared to unleash his fury, the rush of air and the shift in pressure heightened the tension around them, reflecting the chaos of souls gnawing at one another.

  With a powerful strike of Voidlight, a wave of emptiness surged forth, twisting into a spiral that devoured everything in its path. Memories, meaning, and names—all were consumed by the darkness, leaving the world in a haunting silence. Each scream of the spirits felt shattering, one by one fading away, like morning dew helplessly swallowed by the cruel warmth of the sun.

  Kagutsuchi's voice trembled, her eyes narrowed with fierce determination, her figure slowly fading like a shadow at dusk.

  “I will never be forgotten! In this realm of spirits, I am the guardian of memories!”

  Her awakening aura blazed, radiating to every corner of the battlefield; the lingering shadows of the spirits began to materialize, transforming into figures trembling in despair. They knelt, their faces filled with hope and a deep yearning to be remembered, as the spiral of souls framed the crown upon her head, a dim glimmer mingling with the lily petals that the flames had scorched, slowly blackening, threatening to dissolve under a dark fate.

  Fitran, his body vibrating with barely contained energy, yet with eyes that bore a resolute strength.

  “Inverse Will,” he declared, his voice slicing through the silence with conviction.

  With each word, Fitran felt the weight of a world spinning around him, as if the currents of will were wrapping him up, forming a strength that was weary yet sharp, ready to pierce through the darkness. The burning confusion within him served as a reason to endure, even as chaos surrounded him. Kagutsuchi's desire for control only ensnared him deeper in the shadows—a bleak, suffocating realm where Fitran stood with rooted courage.

  Kagutsuchi's voice trembled, nearly breaking, laden with doubt.

  “Don’t you feel afraid of this emptiness, Fitran?”

  Fitran, his tone soft yet resolute.

  “I’m no monster—I’m just making sure nothing else rises from this darkness,” he replied, his eyes filled with challenge.

  Kagutsuchi paused for a moment, her breath hitching,

  “Make me disappear.” Her voice was heavy with despair, shattering the silence.

  Fitran, lifting the shimmering Voidlight, the side of his face reflecting a blend of hope and fury.

  “It only takes one name strong enough to mark the end,” he said, a flicker of conviction rising beneath the tension that enveloped them.

  The spiral field was now silent: an atmosphere filled with stillness and solitude, where sound had turned into mere ghosts within this void. Only the will of two beings remained, refusing to fade away. The world that lingered was simply a sea of black lily petals, an endless whirlpool, and heavy breaths that came in labored gasps, as if reflecting the tension racking their souls.

  Genesis of Oblivion had been born—one will on the brink of inscribing the final chapter of this spiral realm, resisting the currents that threatened to swallow them whole.