Chapter 39
He felt the atmosphere of this world become more alive, more spontaneous, as if the script itself was rewriting him with ink of fresh destiny.
In his heart, Theo knew one thing.
From now on, he had to be careful.
Aldraya had revealed something unnatural—sensitivity.
She had become more attuned to emotion, even to herself.
And that was dangerous.
Because in the script Theo knew, the "I don't know" he had just spoken was the seed of a future tragedy.
A sentence that would pierce Aldraya's heart in the ninth mid-episode of the first arc, when the sacred goddess became a mid-boss, her eyes losing their light.
"My time is up.
There are other matters I need to resolve.
You can continue your routine without my presence."
"Please."
Buuuk - buuuuk - buuuuk!
'I will make sure the Flo Viva Mythology script does not stray far from the predetermined outline.'
Aldraya's steps echoed softly amid the remnants of fading light.
The air around felt dense, as if time held its breath while the figure turned and walked away, carrying the resonance of silence into the chest of anyone witnessing.
Behind her, Theo Vkytor stood frozen, letting his thoughts sink into the whirl of events that had just occurred.
The world seemed to shift slightly off its axis, and in the subtle strangeness, he began to realize how fragile the boundary between script and reality was.
There was something behind Aldraya's gentle movements, something not entirely bound to the script, something alive with its own will.
The sky looked like a black sheet tearing at the edges, revealing flashes of strange light from another dimension.
Theo stared at the path Aldraya had just taken, but only a faint trail of silver light remained, slowly dissipating into the air.
In his chest, his heartbeat still raced.
Not from fear, but from the striking awareness that the world he knew was beginning to rewrite itself.
He felt something delicate flowing between reality and fiction, bridging two things that should never touch.
And amidst that awareness, a resolve slowly thickened, like ink dripping onto a blank manuscript.
He had to maintain the balance that now wavered, ensuring the story's course remained intact even as the goddess began to learn to resist her own fate.
"Focus, Erietta!
Do not let your mind wander to anything!
Close every door—all of them!"
"I will try."
Time passed silently, as if the world deliberately removed seconds so they would not disturb the ongoing process.
In the dusty plain, beneath a sky almost drained of color, Erietta sat cross-legged, her body slightly bowed forward.
The wind swirled around her.
Not an ordinary gust, but a thick, dark brown storm spinning like a vortex of consciousness itself.
Each breath carried the scent of earth, iron, and something deeper—something that vibrated the air, pressed upon the chest, and tested the remaining resolve within the girl.
Theo stood not far away, letting the wind swallow all space between them.
His expression was flat, yet his eyes pierced every subtle motion Erietta made, ensuring she did not stray from the path he had set.
He gave no new commands, offered no verbal guidance.
There was only a single instruction resonating in his mind.
Let Erietta immerse herself in silence.
No room to think.
No opportunity for the mind to resist.
Only focus, only stillness, only awareness sinking to the deepest point where all forms of reality dissolve into faint ash.
The wind raged, slapping skin, tearing through the air, creating a roar that shook the ground.
Yet amidst the storm, Erietta remained motionless, her eyes closed tightly, lips unmoving.
A heavy aura emanated from her, something resembling a void slowly hatching from within her soul.
Theo could feel it—a subtle vibration marking the beginning of something that should not yet rise.
The world around them seemed to tremble faintly, as if an invisible force was rewriting the boundary between calm and destruction.
He knew that if Erietta's focus wavered even for a second, all the energy swirling around would crush her body mercilessly.
Theo drew a long breath, letting the wind strike his face.
In silence, his eyes watched Erietta slowly enveloped in dense mist, and for a moment, time stopped.
No sound remained, no shape persisted.
Only the faint pulse of two existences testing limits.
One striving for the highest awareness, the other ensuring the world did not burn along with her.
'Several aspects have been executed.
Now to wait for the results.'
The sky above them shifted to a dark orange, while the wind, once wild, began to swirl more orderly, as if obeying the rhythm of Erietta's breath.
The girl's body now floated slightly above the ground, still in a cross-legged position, calm, and nearly weightless.
Dust around her danced slowly, forming soft vortices moving according to an invisible pattern.
From a distance, it resembled an ancient meditation performed by a being who had transcended body and mind.
Erietta appeared like a living Buddha statue, enveloped in a dim aura of light mixed with darkness, contrasting with the surrounding world pulsing unpredictably.
Theo stood not far away, still holding the yellow book never leaving his grip.
Amid the shrill wind, he opened pages already full of past scribbles, adding black ink onto the yellowing paper.
Each stroke of the pen felt like a carefully written spell, as if a writer feared the consequences of every word brought to life.
He wrote not by order, but by instinct—the will to record, preserve, and immortalize every deviation unfolding.
The ink dripped slowly, merging with the pulses of nature around, forming symbolic patterns understood only by those who knew the language of the Flo Viva Mythology world.
In every letter written was the belief that his writings were an anchor for reality.
If he stopped, if he faltered even for a moment, the entire story could slip from control and tumble into unpredictability.
Thus he wrote continuously, marking each word with near-sacred rhythm, while occasionally glancing at Erietta still floating in perfect silence.
Between them stretched a distance measured not by space, but by awareness.
One immersed in samadhi, the other guarding the borders of fiction from being consumed by the chaos they created.
'My life and death rest in the hands of this script, depending solely on every decision of the main character—Ilux Rediona.
So, if this world must end, let it be—so long as this story does not turn off course at the final path.'
As a writer, Theo's habit of recording every small detail never truly faded.
Even when the real world had collapsed, swallowed entirely by Flo Viva Mythology leaving only one percent of existence—and himself part of that remnant—that habit became the only reason he could survive.
Amid the ruins of logic and reality colliding, Theo continued writing, inscribing word by word into his yellow book, now more precious than his own heart.
To be continued…