Meanwhile, elsewhere, far from Rinoa's attempts to rise again, Fitran lay weakly in the recovery room of the Sanctuary—a dim space filled with the gentle sounds of incantations, the scent of herbs, and the glow of healing glyphs painting the walls. Yet, none of it could reach the deepest wounds in her body and soul.

  Fitran's body trembled violently, as if a storm raged within her. Each time she drew a breath, icy air pierced her very marrow, as if a black dagger crept from the core of her chest throughout her veins. She shut her eyes, yet in that darkness, an emptiness began to swell; behind her eyelids, the colors of the void spun—searing dark purple, deep blue like a starless night, and black that devoured the world's sounds with an overwhelming silence.

  "She's still fighting," one healer said with a tone full of worry, glancing at her colleagues with an alert expression. "We must hasten this healing process. The healing glyphs on these walls are not strong enough to banish the void gnawing at her soul."

  "But a spell that's too powerful could endanger her," replied another healer, her face creased in concentration. "The risk of her mana metrics could draw her deeper into the void."

  "There's no other choice!" cried the first healer, his voice cracking with panic. Fitran stirred for a moment, groaning in pain, "Stop! Don't look at me!" In that darkness, Fitran's voice sounded like a scream hurled from a cliff into an abyss. "Don't try to strip my soul bare!"

  "Fitran, listen!" said the second healer, stepping slowly toward where she lay. "We are here to help you. Allow us to touch you. Let us channel healing magic into you."

  Her blood felt like poison mingled with a current of electricity, delivering tormenting pain. The nerves in her back, neck, and chest burned, freezing for a moment, only to ignite again with even more agonizing fire. The metallic tang, the scent of ozone, and something foreign filled her mouth, like a mirage amidst the void, as she screamed, "It won't work! Suck away all my pain, but this void only closes in tighter!"

  "We won't let you fall, Fitran!" said the third healer, her voice calm yet firm, her eyes shining with resolve. "Keep your focus! Let your mana resonate. Accept the flow of healing!"

  "Flow? Which mana are you referring to? There's nothing left!" Fitran sobbed, her voice heavy with despair. "All that remains is a suffocating darkness... no goodness left at all!"

  Each time her core mana pulsed, foreign whispers echoed—like an ancient tongue, incantations only recognized by true servants of the void. "Hush, Fitran! We are here with you. I will summon the Glyph of Sanctity. Give me a moment."

  Fitran—still half-conscious—clutched the bed linens, her nails digging into the fabric until it tore. She whispered softly, "No... not now... I'm not ready for this..."

  "What has brought this void back? Why now, when the whole world seems to be collapsing? Paladin… I am merely a Paladin… my body is not meant to absorb this void."

  Suddenly, an image of herself materialized within the spiral shadows—a figure of Fitran in armor, her core mana shimmering in shades of blue-gold, yet at its center, dark-purple cracks began to grow like tumors. A voidwright had never belonged on the Paladin path: light magic and void magic tore at each other, creating a painful maelstrom.

  In an instant, the image of her body resurfaced within the spiral shadows. "Fitran!" shouted one of the healers, her voice trembling, "We can't let this happen!" The armored figure of Fitran radiated a brilliant blue-gold glow, but now cracks of black and purple began to form in its center, like a malignant growth. "You must endure! Don’t let the void possess your soul!" another healer screamed, her voice shrill with panic, signaling profound fear.

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  Voidwright never aligned well with the path of the Paladin: the bright magic clashed violently with the emptiness, creating a vortex of chaotic energy. "They should have maintained this balance," Fitran whispered weakly, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "But I... I can’t fight it... it’s too painful..."

  In this world, only pure sorceresses, sages, or untainted Voidwrights could harbor void magic within their mana cores without suffering collapse. An elderly healer, her voice firm yet taut with tension, declared, "Fitran, remember! The spiral laws bind your body. Do not lose control!" Paladins — they were the keepers of light, their bodies bound by the laws of the spiral, not by the void. Fitran bit her lip, her face contorted in deep suffering. *What other laws could save me from this emptiness?*

  If void magic is forced into the Paladin's channel, the result is not merely failure:

  "The void within Fitran began to grow like an existential cancer—devouring mana structure, corrupting the core, and disrupting the entire body’s magical system," said another healer urgently, his eyes glimmering with worry.

  Fitran’s skin felt as if it were burning, then cold, and then back to burning again. "What is happening to me?" he shouted, as if questioning a world that was beginning to crumble around him. "This pain... there is no remedy to stop it!" His muscles spasmed; his heartbeat staggered for a moment before racing wildly, as if trying to traverse the boundaries of time. "We’re trying, Fitran! Trust me!" cried the young healer, his face shadowed with anxiety. "But we need your cooperation!"

  His left eye caught a light he had never known in the human realm, while his right ear picked up screams that filled the void. "What has happened?" he gasped, perplexed. "I no longer recognize this world..." His convulsions intensified, and he felt a pressure so agonizing, as if his very soul were ensnared. "Fitran, calm yourself! Connect with the remaining essence of mana," the healer commanded with a firm tone meant to inspire. "We will not let you fall into darkness!"

  In the haunting silence, Fitran’s inner voice surged with turmoil, I must make a choice… to endure as a Paladin, awaiting destruction, or… to surrender to the darkness, becoming a creature I no longer recognize. Around her, the blue light from the healing glyph etched upon the wall suddenly faded, obscured by a dark hue that enveloped her, terrifying and enigmatic.

  “My lady,” the voice of the old healer broke through with anxiety, “this is not ordinary wounding magic… this—this is void cancer. We must summon the master sage at once. If not, she… she will be lost!”

  Fitran groaned, her voice hoarse, as if each word she spoke desperately fled from her lips, “No… I am still here… do not let me vanish… Rinoa… Arthuria… this world is not yet finished…”

  “She is struggling against this wave of magic,” the old healer said to her companion, “ordinary healing methods will never succeed. We must employ high-level spells!”

  The light from the healing glyph began to fade, and as if responding to his inner cries, Fitran's voice approached the brink of despair. “Rinoa! Arthuria!…” Pain and helplessness flooded every inch of his being. “I don’t want to vanish into the darkness!”

  As Fitran was dragged back to the threshold of consciousness, he felt each drop of void within him gnawing away at more than just his physical form. Names, memories, and hopes that once existed seemed to vanish one by one. “Paladin… rise!” shouted the young healer, “You must fight! If you wish to survive, you must choose to change!”

  “No… No!” Fitran yelled, “I can’t do this! What am I to choose? To become a beast? Or to continue suffering?”

  “You are not alone!” Dim light illuminated the old healer’s face, “Let us help you, Sleep in Awakening, My Lord! We will employ the salvation ritual from the Sanctuary's magical system. Don’t you remember? We must not—”

  But Fitran's voice no longer allowed him to continue, ensnared in the grip of profound fear. “Courage… courage… what is it truly?”

  As the healing spells vibrated amidst the clamor and frantic cries of the healers began to fade, the sky of Sanctuary appeared increasingly dark. Only the silent call from the depths of emptiness continued to beckon her—enticing her to finally choose the path she had long avoided.