Important announcement, please read it and do not skip it.
Hello dear reader, this is the creator of Fatum: R (me) Furan. I wanted to say thank you for reading my story and I hope you continue reading it from now on.
I would like to invite you to join the official discord server of the story, why? you would ask yourself. Well, on the server you can find more people who like this story, in turn you will find visual material about the story on this server.
You will find the official map of the world where the story takes place, you will also be able to find official art of the characters made by me, and you will be able to talk to more people.
The server is designed to be a space for liberation and to have a good time.
You can find the link to this in a comment posted on my profile.
In turn, if you can't find it in my profile there is a link to my linktree, in which the first button will take you to this server. This link is also found on my other social networks, but the most accessible would be X: @FuranOgawa and Instagram: @furan.og
If the link does not work please let me know by DM so I can fix it.
That would be all, thank you very much and enjoy the chapter :).
...
Hours after the battle, Lucian's body was delivered to the gates of Ilmenor. Everything was there: his motionless body, the dented armor, the stained sword, and his head, separated from the rest. Nothing was missing, and yet, the absence was the only thing that truly carried weight.
The funeral was held immediately. It was brief, almost hurried, but that did not make it less devastating. Zein stood without moving, his gaze fixed on the coffin. It was impossible for him to accept what had happened; he always believed that Lucian would never enter a battle he knew was lost. The memory of having been unable to do anything, of having been reduced to a useless spectator, burned in his chest like an open wound.
Meliora broke down completely. Her strength abandoned her and she ended up kneeling in front of the coffin, her hands resting on the cold surface, as if she could thus hold onto what was no longer there. Her weeping did not seek comfort or attention; it simply escaped from her, over and over again. Kiomi did not leave her side. The pain pierced her twice over: Lucian had been part of her life since she was little, and seeing her mother in that state left her breathless.
Lyra, although she did not fully understand what was happening and had barely spent time with Lucian, felt the weight of the scene drive into her chest. It wasn't just the death; it was the people around her, the tense faces, the empty gazes, the silence that no one dared to break.
Kio, on the other hand, said nothing. Throughout the funeral she remained apart, as if she had drawn an invisible line between herself and the others. She did not speak to Zein, nor Lyra, nor Kiomi. She didn't even approach Meliora. Her gaze remained lost, fixed on a non-existent point, and her stillness was unsettling. There were no tears, no visible rage, no words.
Even so, her body betrayed her. Her ears remained unusually low, and her tail, rigid, did not move in the slightest, as if even breathing were an unnecessary effort.
The day continued with a forced normalcy. The fighting at the city gate went on as usual, but something had snapped. Morale was low, and it showed in every step, in every order given without conviction. Meliora continued helping despite everything, though her hunched posture and slow movements betrayed the toll. Kiomi was no better.
As evening fell, Meliora asked Zein and Lyra to look for Kio. Both combed the city, passing through the places they thought she might be, until they finally found her in the church. Kio was kneeling, praying in silence. The orange light of the sunset filtered through the stained glass and fell upon her, further highlighting the droop of her ears and the stillness of her tail.
Zein watched her for a few seconds, hesitating. Then, as if a desperate idea crossed his mind, he raised both arms and took a couple of steps toward her.
—Hey… Kio. I-In these last few hours, I've come up with something to avenge Lucian, you know? —he said, getting a little closer.
But he received no answer.
Lyra, at his side, tilted her head, visibly puzzled by what Zein had just said. Then Kio stood up. With a simple movement of her hand, the ground responded: thick, tense vines sprouted and closed around Zein, immobilizing him before he could react.
—Hey, I… I can explain… —Zein said, his voice trembling, as he struggled without success.
Kio did not respond. Picking him up without an effort, she places him on her back as if he were a fallen leaf. Moving forward without looking back. Lyra hesitated for barely an instant before following them, walking behind them while Zein, hanging and bound, tried to explain what he had said, convinced he had made an unpardonable mistake.
Thus they arrived at the city gate. There, Meliora was speaking with some soldiers; no shots were heard, only the muffled murmur of tired voices. Kio left Zein on the ground, still bound, and without warning struck him hard behind the neck. Zein's body tensed for a second before falling unconscious.
—What happened? —Meliora asked, confused by the scene.
Kio did not respond. Something began to ripple through her body, as if she were burning from within. It wasn't her skin: it was her clothes. The fabric disintegrated into dark sparks and was replaced by an imposing armor, plates forged in an absolute black metal whose polished finish reflected the light with an oily and lethal glint. The breastplate, robust and adorned with intricate golden engravings, was crossed by a heavy band of crimson cloth that fell over a dark combat skirt, trimmed with gold threads. Each piece fit into the next, forming an authoritative silhouette, impossible to ignore.
The pauldrons rose in defensive points and gave way to a Spartan-style helmet—austere, with no ornaments on the forehead. The helm, smooth and of an impenetrable black, contrasted with the crimson crest that started from the nape and waved like a flame of blood with every movement. The face remained hidden behind a fine-grated visor, and the sensation emanating from that figure was not human, but that of something primitive, implacable.
Before advancing, Kio stopped. She slowly turned her head toward Meliora.
—He gave me permission.
Those were the first words to leave her mouth since Lucian died.
—C-Can I explain things to Zein? —Meliora asked in a low voice, holding herself back.
For a moment, Kio kept her gaze fixed on Zein, as if she expected him to say something himself, though unconscious.
—Sure —she finally responded.
With that said, Kio took flight, passing over the wall of Ilmenor. With a slight movement of her left hand, a translucent barrier expanded until it completely covered the city, sealing it in a tense silence. With her other hand, she summoned a staff of dark wood, reinforced with metallic details and embedded precious stones that captured the light with a contained glow.
At that point in the war, around seventy-five thousand soldiers of the Empire surrounded the vicinity of Ilmenor.
As soon as they saw her, the shots began. A rain of bullets streaked through the air, but none managed to reach her: some fell before arriving, others veered off upon clashing against the magical shield that enveloped her. The roar was deafening… until, suddenly, it ceased completely.
From inside the forest, a lone figure emerged. It was Alain. He wore black armor combined with red fabrics, and he held in his hands a staff different from the previous one—new, repaired, clearly reinforced. He advanced until he stood before the ranks of his soldiers and looked up at Kio.
—Wow! Look who we have here! —he shouted, with a mocking smile.
For an instant, Kio seemed confused.
—Are you coming to avenge your friend?! —Alain continued—. Although it's pathetic to call him a friend! Truly, it's a disgrace!
Kio understood immediately what he was trying to do. To provoke her. To drag her into his rhythm. Even so, she remained motionless.
The taunts continued. Comments about Lucian, about his defeat, about his supposed ineptitude. Kio did not react. That lack of response was exploited by Alain, who began to puff himself up with every word.
—But I don't blame him for losing to someone like me! ME! —he raised his voice—. I am a magic prodigy! Someone matchless!
Kio opened her mouth slightly.
—You call yourself someone matchless! —Kio's voice echoed across the battlefield—. When the only way you could beat Lucian was by using the last magic resurrection object remaining from the era of the gods!
She didn't take a single step as she said it.
—Even if I hadn't used it, I would have won just the same! —Alain responded, raising his voice—. I can use up to five magic circles on my own!
—Circles, eh? —Kio let out a short, dry laugh—. How meager.
—What?! —Alain shouted, visibly agitated.
—Do you know the theory of higher levels? —Kio raised her staff toward the sky—. That theory claims there are levels of magic beyond the twelve circles.
—Of course! Anyone who studies magic knows that wonderful theory!
—Well, guess who wrote it —Kio replied, just as the tip of her staff began to glow.
—What?! That's impossible!
—Don't believe me —Kio said coldly—. I would prove it to you… but you are only worthy of seeing a spell of fewer than ten circles.
At that instant, magic circles began to form in front of the tip of the staff. The first appeared wide and solid; in front of it emerged another smaller one, then another, and another still, until a row of five circles hung suspended in the air, rotating slowly, charged with an invisible pressure.
From inside the city, Meliora saw the circles and the color drained from her face. Without wasting a second, she ordered every opening in the wall to be closed: the main gate, the small windows, any crack that might remain exposed.
At the same time, Alain understood what Kio was about to do. He gave rapid orders for all his mages to group around him and raise a barrier. He added his own: five superimposed magic circles, firm, tense, at their limit.
—I'm sorry, Clay… I'm going to break our promise… —Kio whispered to herself, barely a breath.
Then she pointed her staff directly toward Alain and his retinue of mages.
—Burning pile —Kio signaled.
In the same instant she spoke those words, the spell was released.
A beam erupted from the staff, but it was not pure light: it was compressed fire, dense, roaring, like the breath of a dragon. It descended at full speed toward Alain. His shield managed to repel the initial impact, deflecting the flare… but the spell did not stop. It kept flowing. And kept going.
The flames began to spread across the entire field in front of Ilmenor, crawling like a living tide. Covering every inch of ground within the first line of defense. The fire crashed against the barrier Kio had raised, sliding along it without being able to pass through, keeping the city safe.
Outside the wall, hell was unleashed. The soldiers were engulfed in flames; cries of pain rose in unison, mixing with the crackling of burning wood and the sound of the earth splitting from the heat. The smell of burning flesh spread through the air, thick and suffocating, while ashes began to fall like a gray snowfall.
And the spell continued. It did not wane; it did not waver. It kept pouring out without rest, covering the entire interior of the first defense, from the northern mountains to the southeastern coast.
Kio watched the advance of the flames and, noticing it was not enough, added one more magic circle. The energy tensed instantly. The fire roared with greater violence: it not only burned with more intensity but also expanded with terrifying speed.
The flames reached the interior of the second defense. No soldier remained out of their reach.
Inside Ilmenor, the silence was absolute. No one spoke. No one moved. They only watched as Kio incinerated and massacred the entire enemy army with a single spell.
At that very moment, Zein woke up. The first thing he saw was Kio's silhouette, silhouetted against a burning horizon. He was hit by the distant screams, the laments that were dying out one by one, the stench of burned flesh mixed with hot ash.
For an instant, Zein looked at her with horror.
Meliora approaches him and began to untie his bindings with trembling hands.
—Zein… do you know why Kio has never acted, despite everything that has happened? —Meliora asked seriously—. Do you have any idea who it was that sent her to protect you and your sister?
Zein finished removing the last vines holding him and shook his head.
—I've always asked her that… but she never answers me. She evades my questions —he admitted—. Truth is, I don't know much about her. I don't know anything about her past…
Meliora helped him to his feet.
—She has lived for thousands of years. To us, they are countless; to her, barely a blink. Our lives pass before her eyes like a flash that goes out instantly —she said calmly—. And even so… I am sure she loves us.
Zein frowned.
—I don't understand what you're getting at.
Meliora took him by the shoulders again, forcing him to look at her.
—I'll ask you again, Zein. Who do you think sent her to protect you?
—I don't know… —he responded after hesitating—. A king? Some noble?
Meliora shook her head slowly.
—We call her a saint not for her actions, nor for her power —she said in a low voice—. She has been the center of countless events throughout the history of the world. Because she is the herald… the herald of God.
Zein turned his head slowly, as if he feared what he was going to see. His eyes rested on Kio, suspended in the sky.
—The herald of God…
Time passed. The white snow that once covered the field was transformed into ash, and everything around Ilmenor burned beneath a sea of fire. Night fell without ceremony.
Kio was still there, floating in the midst of the destruction, maintaining the spell as if the passing of the hours meant nothing. In front of her, Alain continued to resist alongside his retinue of mages, clinging to their barriers with desperation. With a raspy voice, he shouted at her from below:
—Is that all you've got?! Don't make me laugh!
Kio tilted her head slightly.
—I'm glad you asked —she responded while smiling.
In that very instant, she added another magic circle to the spell. The formation expanded, rising now to seven circles.
That last circle completely changed the nature of the spell. The fire was extinguished all at once and, in its place, a beam of pure light erupted. It didn't burn: it crushed. The discharge descended with absolute violence, pulverizing Alain's defenses as if they had never existed.
When Kio ceased the spell, nothing remained in the place where he had been… except for an immense crater that sank several meters beneath the scorched earth.
Emerged a figure emerged from the fire.
He walked among the flames as if they did not belong to him, completely unharmed.
Kio frowned. It took her a few seconds to understand what she was seeing. She tried to distinguish the silhouette, but the heat distorted the air and the glow of the fire deformed its contours.
—Wow… this really is a disaster, truly —the figure said—. It's a good thing the emperor had foreseen it. We already have a replacement for you, so you can rest, Alain.
His voice was high-pitched, weak, trembling. It didn't have the confidence of a victor, but rather the discomfort of someone who would prefer not to be there.
Kio spoke without lowering her staff.
—Hey, you!
The man gave a start. He turned slowly, almost with fear. When the fire illuminated his face, the reason for the confusion became evident: half of his face hung flaccid, while the other seemed to be melting, like wax exposed to a constant flame.
That was why Kio had not recognized him immediately.
—Duke?! —she shouted, incredulous.
Upon hearing that, Kiomi and Meliora ran to the top of the wall to see with their own eyes.
Kio took a step forward in the air and aimed her staff firmly.
—No… wait. Who are you? What did you do with the duke?
The man sighed, uncomfortable.
—Well… I can't tell you who I am —he responded while peeling off, with a casual gesture, the piece of face he was still wearing—. What happened to the duke… I don't know. They only told me to impersonate him for a while.
He brushed the ash off his clothes as if it were nothing.
Beneath that false skin, a facial mask cast in pure gold was revealed, modeled in the exact shape of a human skull. The precious metal shone with an almost divine radiance, reflecting the fire that surrounded it. Where the eyes, nostrils, and jaw should be, there were only deep cavities: pits of an impenetrable blackness that seemed to absorb light itself.
—You bastard…! What did you do to my uncle?! —Kiomi shouted from the top of the wall.
—I… I didn't do anything to him… —the man responded, even more nervous.
Kill him.Don't let him leave there alive.
The voices suddenly broke into Kio's mind—cold, insistent.
—It doesn't matter —she said at last, with a calmness that was more terrifying than a scream—. You won't leave here alive anyway.
Kio raised her staff toward the sky and began to recite a spell. This time, her voice was low, almost a whisper, as if the world did not deserve to hear it. At the tip of the staff, magic circles began to form. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. And then more. They surpassed the known limit and continued to appear, one after another, charging the air with a suffocating pressure.
—Hey… hey… —the man stammered—. Don't you think it's a bit much for someone like me?
Kio did not respond.
Seeing that he got no reaction, the man also began to recite a spell, his words rushed and his breathing irregular. When both finished, they spoke the final phrase almost at the same time.
—Judgment day —Kio said.
Four luminous figures manifested around her: two to her right and two to her left. Armed angels, ethereal, with outspread wings and gazes devoid of mercy.
—By the hand of the Emperor —the man responded.
The ground beneath his feet cracked, and enormous hands erupted violently from the earth, twisting as if they were alive.
Kio pointed her staff toward him. Instantly, the angels launched their attack from all directions. The emerging hands repelled every onslaught, clashing with brutal speed. The exchange was so fierce that, little by little, the flames still surrounding the field began to extinguish, smothered by the colliding energy.
While that was happening, Kio raised her staff again, this time pointing to the sky just above the man, and began to recite another spell.
The man noticed it and turned pale.
—Come on… are you serious? Two high-level spells at the same time? —he said, his voice breaking with fear.
Above his head, numerous magic circles began to form, aligning as Kio continued the enchantment. They spun and clicked into one another like the gears of a perfect clock, until they were completely connected.
Then, a door appeared.
It aimed directly toward the man's position. The door was white, imposing, beautiful, with delicate golden details that contrasted with the devastation surrounding it.
The doors began to open slowly, and from within sprouted a celestial light that poured over the devastated field, enveloping everything in an almost unreal glow. For an instant, it seemed as if dawn had arrived ahead of time, erasing the night, the smoke, and the blood with absolute clarity.
—Heaven's Door —Kio exclaimed, lowering the staff and pointing it directly at the man.
Understanding what was about to happen, he made a desperate move with his hand and held up an object that shone faintly between his fingers: a crystal sphere.
—I'm sorry, sir… but if I don't withdraw now, I will die —he said, his voice cracking, fear leaking into every word, before crushing it without hesitation.
The instant the sphere broke, the man disappeared completely, along with the enormous hands that protected him. The air vibrated with violence. Kio reacted by stopping the spell, but even so, a small fraction of the accumulated energy was released. That was enough to open an immense crater, far deeper and wider than the one left where Alain had stood.
The light dissipated.
Kio's armor was consumed amidst sparks and ashes, dissolving to reveal the clothes she had worn before the combat. Exhausted, she slowly descended to the ground, toward the place where Zein and Lyra stood. Meliora also came down from the wall, joining them in silence.
All of Ilmenor was paralyzed. Soldiers and civilians watched the scene, unable to react: some fell to their knees and began to pray, while others trembled, unable to look away from the destruction they had just witnessed.
—I think it would be a good time to reclaim some territory from the Empire, considering I wiped out most of their army —Kio commented, stretching lazily like a cat that had just woken up from a long nap.
—O-of course… —Meliora responded, still stunned, before turning around and running to organize the troops.
At that same moment, Zein stormed toward Kio and planted himself in front of her.
—Why didn't you tell me who had sent you to protect Lyra and me?! —he demanded, his voice loaded with rage.
—It wasn't necessary for you to know —she responded coldly.
—It wasn't necessary?! Do you really think I didn't need to know that God sent you to look after me?! DO YOU REALLY BELIEVE THAT?!
—Yes.
—Why did you keep such a huge and important secret? —Zein continued, clenching his teeth—. I thought there were no more secrets between us… I thought we were friends.
—You know almost nothing about me —Kio said, without looking away, her distant tone cutting deeper than any spell.
Zein did not respond. He roughly took Lyra's hand and began to walk away with her.
—It seems I was wrong to think we were friends —he said without turning back.
Kiomi ran after them, calling out to them, while Kio remained motionless in the middle of the devastated field. She looked down at her own hand, slowly closing it. Her ears and tail drooped, dejected, as the silence settled around her.