Chapter 66
'She is beautiful in a terrifying way.
Her silver-violet hair gleams like moonlit water, her translucent skin reflecting a light that seems to come from within.
Four eyes spiral in shades of violet and silver, their pupils shaped like living petals.
Her gown is not fabric, but time itself, trembling softly in the air.'
Princess Valthura emerged like a rhythm breaching the borders of worlds when the spatial tear opened and glowing petals descended like a rain sung directly by the sky.
Her beauty was not merely visual, but a presence that spread like a soft song without origin, a unison that appeared gentle yet carried a command impossible to reject.
That aura wrapped around the space, creating an atmosphere that made the world feel as though it tilted toward her.
Theo Vkytor felt a pressure wholly different from Quorin.
Before Princess Valthura, the threat did not come from physical force, but from an allure that pressed his resolve to stand against a harmony capable of crumbling human will.
Her presence peeled open layers of the soul that one never realized existed, as though she were measuring the firmness of spirit through a beauty that no one could deny.
Valthura's form suggested something poised between a mortal being and a work of art given breath.
Her body was slender, fluid, carrying the impression of water-shadows bathed in moonlight.
Her long hair, silver mingling with pale violet, shifted into greenish or soft rose hues depending on the drift of her emotions.
Her skin was nearly transparent, reflecting light from within like a gentle crystal catching the world's shimmer.
On her neck and arms, thin golden lines—like living circuits—flowed slowly, giving the impression that her emotions were living data following the rhythm of the world.
Valthura possessed four eyes.
One above the nose, one on the left cheek, one on the right cheek, and one more nestled inside her mouth.
All four rotated softly in two colors.
Violet on the outer edge and silver at the center, while the pupils resembled petals constantly blooming and folding.
To stare too long into them meant being trapped in one's happiest memories—beautiful, yet ultimately fragile illusions.
The gown adorning her body appeared weightless.
Layers of light and fragments of time formed folds that quivered like ripples across a lake's surface.
Behind her back, six luminous ribbons stretched out, resembling wings but formed of emotional fragments dancing with her steps.
Each ribbon radiated a different feeling—love, awe, wonder and more—moving like a harmony split into six voices.
When she moved her fingers, glowing petals appeared along her path, only to vanish before touching the ground.
A faint amber-and-ozone scent drifted around her, adding to the impression that her existence was a twist between femininity, illusion, and a command hidden within beauty.
'They are not two different beings, but one code divided into two forms.
If Quorin is wounded, Valthura feels the pain as well.
One could say they live by bearing each other's state, sustaining balance together.'
From afar, Prince Quorin and Princess Valthura looked like two separate axes, each with a world orbiting their steps.
The light surrounding Quorin never brushed the petals following Valthura, as though both entities moved within orbits that would never collide.
But for Theo Vkytor—who once delved into the deepest algorithms of Flo Viva Mythology long before that world devoured reality—such a sight was only a surface layer.
He knew they were not merely two Administrators with different identities, but one code with two manifestations.
An esoteric symmetry where anything one experienced would resonate within the other, without pause or space to sever the link.
That awareness awakened something inside Theo—something lost in the fog of memory when reality collapsed into a game-woven landscape.
The familiar sensation he felt upon seeing Quorin and Valthura was no coincidence, but an echo of long-buried knowledge.
He once understood this—studied the pattern meticulously—then forgot when the world shattered and blended with the game.
Now those details rose once more, like scattered light returning to its original form.
Theo realized their connection existed not only in energy or emotion but reached deeper—touching the foundation of existence itself.
Quorin and Valthura were reflections of one another.
Not as shadows, but as two sides of a single algorithm shaping their path of fate.
The consequence of that link birthed an unavoidable truth.
If one suffered, the other would feel the sting.
If one lost balance, the other would tremble.
This was not merely a programmed rule in Flo Viva Mythology, but a principle shaping how they moved, acted, and protected themselves.
They had to protect each other.
Not by choice, but because their existence was woven into a system that rejected imbalance.
Theo saw the pattern flowing like spinning discs of light between them, forming a connection understood only by those who once studied the core of that world.
Everything felt reflective, mirroring itself.
'This is bad. Not only because all five of my sword techniques vanished into the wind, but because the enemy is not one, but two Administrators at once.
Worse, their bond as siblings ties them together mentally.
One's movement is immediately echoed by the other.'
Within the distance where the air itself cracked into tension, Theo felt a faint pulse creeping from the core of his world, as though something unseen shook the layers of his consciousness.
The trace of his five sword techniques—techniques that should have left at least a ripple—had disappeared entirely, fading like frost under the harshest noon sun.
The void wrapped around him in a suffocating quiet, making every breath thick and heavy.
In that silence, anger began to flow.
No longer a mere reaction, but a hot mist clinging to his skin, refusing to disperse.
From where he stood, Theo caught the faint movements of two figures entering his field of vision.
They arrived breaking the air, moving through space threaded by the very laws they created.
Their motions were too measured, too synchronized to be a coincidence.
One stepped forward as the other shifted their gaze, as though they shared a single pulse of fate split into two bodies.
And as their presence asserted itself, Theo felt the same pattern he had recognized long ago—an echo in the code of a game he once studied with near-obsessive dedication.
The memory stirred from the depths of his mind, twining with what he now saw.
He remembered how Flo Viva Mythology created paired entities born from a single foundation, divided only by differing outer forms.
If the two were siblings—as hinted by the code he once dissected—then their relationship was far more complex than ordinary blood.
They were linked by a system that transferred sensation, absorbed impact, and returned resonance.
One action shook the other.
One wound bled emotion into its counterpart.
Their arrival together, approaching him at the same moment, was too clear to dismiss as coincidence.
Theo's frustration thickened, sharpening into something he struggled to name.
To be continued…