You said you were going to make games, how did you become the richest man without doing anything?

Fufu suddenly opened her eyes, and the surroundings suddenly became blurry, all colors faded, leaving only gray and chaos. Before her appeared a door woven from pure text—engraved with "True Words" never before seen in the ages, each stroke seemingly flowing from the creation of the world.

On the other side of the door lies the "Former Territory," which is permanently sealed off.

"Who are you?" she asked softly, only to find that her voice seemed to transform into real words, appearing as golden-red characters in the air before shattering and dissipating.

“I am the ‘root of language’,” the voice said in a low, deep voice. “I am the source of all languages, and also the end of all words.”

Fufu bit her lip. "You are not the god of this world, nor the language god... You are... the essence of language itself, existing above this universe?"

The voice remained silent for a moment.

"—No, I am the last existential construct that you awakened."

The door suddenly shook, and a crack extended down from its top, as if in response to Fufu's realization.

“You already possess the ‘final words’ and the ‘unspoken’; take another step, and you will reach the root of language.”

“But this is not what I want,” Fufu suddenly whispered, her hand slowly loosening its grip on the sword hilt. “I don’t want to become the blade that judges all words, nor do I want to transform into a new language structure.”

Silence fell over the doorway.

"I just want to... go back to reality with her."

She turned and walked towards Noria, crouching down to gently stroke her still-sleeping face.

"Noria... I promised you that we would see the real sunlight together."

Behind her, the "Gate of Boundary Words," symbolizing ultimate expression, closed silently, turning into a wisp of gray light that quietly merged into Fufu's body.

At that moment, Fufu felt that all words, languages, names, and sounds had become transparent. She was no longer someone who spoke words, but rather—a being who constructed reality in silence.

-

Just then, Noria finally opened her eyes, and Fou's image was reflected in her golden pupils.

"...Did you...cry?"

Fufu was stunned, and tears slid down her cheeks.

"...Yes, I cried. I cried very genuinely."

Noria sat up, looked at the slowly closing rift in the sky in the distance, and then whispered:

“I heard the last grammatical structure say… ‘You have returned the world of words…’”

She turned to look at Fufu and smiled.

"—We won."

At this moment, Jingze finally opened his eyes. Those purple-silver eyes seemed to see through the entire shattered world of words, revealing an unnamed new future.

"Fou, Noria."

He struggled to sit up, his smile strained yet genuine.

"We...are still alive."

The three of them gazed at each other for a moment, then simultaneously looked towards the distant north—where the remaining embers of the word were turning into golden snow dust, slowly drifting down to the earth. The voices in the wind were utterly silent; that was the moment when "Silent Words" were truly born.

From then on, language was no longer the authority, nor the law of control.

—It is resonance, it is a promise, it is…the voice of the heart.

Beneath the final words, flowers bloomed.

A golden, elegiac flower quietly blooms between broken swords and whispered bones. It carries no name, yet sways gently in the wind, like the first and last word the whole world is uttering:

"Thank you."

The blazing white morning light streamed through the cracks in the shattered sky, illuminating Jingze's face. She stood before the broken Word Flame Stele, with the layers of collapsed remains of the "Seat of the Final Words" behind her, and an endless sea of ​​ruins before her.

Beneath her feet lay the "roots of language" that once formed the core of the world of words, now broken and scattered like meaningless verses, swirling in the wind like fluttering fragments of a spell. Fufu stood beside her, her hand on her broken staff, her expression weary yet radiating an irrepressible, burning light.

"The world is still alive," she said softly, as if to Jingze, or perhaps to convince herself.

“It’s not just alive,” Jingze squinted at the distance, where a huge rainbow wave was slowly rolling on the horizon, a phenomenon of nascent language, “it’s trying to speak new words.”

Just as she finished speaking, a strange whisper came from the depths of the ruins, like an ancient pendulum swaying in the air. Noria and Viro also walked from a distance, behind them were the surviving speech users and "word knights," who were battered and bruised in yesterday's battle, yet still walked on the path of rebuilding.

“I thought you all…” Wei Ruo’s words were cut short as tears welled up in her eyes. “I thought—you would be trapped in that storm of words forever.”

Jingze turned around, stepped forward, and hugged her. "We almost couldn't have come back, if it weren't for—that last word." She was referring to the moment when she shattered the structure of the Word God with "unspoken words" at the end of the war. It was an existence that transcended all word order, a "beginning word" that should not belong to this world.

Fufu, however, was staring intently at a smooth pebble at her feet, on which lay a line of unwritten yet "perceptible" sentences:

"Where words end, there is a return to the beginning."

She took a deep breath and looked up at the crowd. “A new language is being born, but this is not something to celebrate.” Her tone was cold and anxious. “Once the world stops using the languages ​​of the past, it will reconstruct itself in terms of linguistic quality, and the existence of all of us may be deleted in the new order.”

These words fell into everyone's hearts like frost.

"You mean, we will no longer be who we are?" Noria's hands trembled slightly. "Even our memories might not be the same as before?"

“Yes.” Fufu nodded. “We must find the core of the source word and guide the direction of this ‘Hatsune Miku rewrite’.”

Jingze lowered his gaze. "But that's not something we can control."

“You’re not alone.” Fufu raised her hand, and a crystal emitting a pale purple glow appeared in her palm. It was a “Fragment of the Core of Language,” the only core left behind when the “Blade of Final Words” disintegrated after the end of the war. “We are the remnants of language, but we may also become the creators of a new language era.”

As everyone remained silent, suddenly—

Boom-!
The earth shook.

A rift, interwoven with inky black and azure blue, tore open the distant sky, revealing a floating island shaped like a harp slowly emerging at the edge of the world. Its entire body was woven from sound patterns, each string radiating an ancient rhythmic aura. That was—the "Garden of Lost Sounds."

“…Abandoned languages ​​are gathering,” Fufu murmured.

"They will rebel against their rewritten fate." Noria clenched her fists.

“We must get there first.” Jingze turned around, his gaze sharp as a sword. “Before we write the opening chapter of the new world, we must first listen to those erased echoes.”

**
Three days later, the team was ready to set off.

Jingze donned the "Mirror Words Robe," Fufu changed into the "Star Wanderer" boots, and Noria wore a brand-new "Poetic Blade" on her back, reforged from the original Broken Sentence Iron and Sentence Soul Silver.

Wei Ruo led three "Resonance Singers" to guide them into the "Courtyard of Lost Voices." Meanwhile, the Speech Masters were divided into groups and stationed at various "structural nodes" along the way to stabilize fluctuations in speech quality.

The first stop on the journey is crossing the "Silent Gorge".

There was no echo in the canyon; every word, once uttered, vanished without a trace, as if never spoken. This was the dead language zone left behind after the "unspoken words" had eroded everything. "Don't speak," Wei Ruo whispered to the group. "Even whispers will be swallowed up by this canyon and rendered 'meaningless.'"

They communicated with eye contact and used hand gestures to mark their way. They walked for five quarters of an hour in this eerie silence, until a dark figure appeared before them—

It was a person draped in a gray robe, with a blurred face and runes flowing in his eyes.

“You are searching for words.” The man spoke, but the voice did not enter directly into the ears; rather, it floated in the hearts of each person—a “voice of contemplation.”

"Who are you?" Jingze made the gesture of speaking, but did not make a sound, his thoughts conveying themselves.

“I am a descendant of the abandoned thirteenth language family,” the gray-robed man slowly raised his hand. “We are the remnants of the Night of Languages.”

"You're stopping us?"

"It's not about stopping you, it's about inviting you to witness it."

As he finished speaking, he raised his hand and pointed to the end of the canyon, where the stone wall suddenly cracked open, revealing an ancient stele with mottled "pre-word totem" engraved on it.

"The gate to the Courtyard of Lost Voices requires the bloodstains of ancient languages ​​as its key," he said, drawing a thin, cracked blade. "Are you willing to draw the blood of memories?"

Everyone was shocked.

"The Blood of Words?" Fufu's expression changed drastically. "You want us... to sacrifice our most precious linguistic memories?"

"Otherwise, the gates of the courtyard will remain forever dormant."

In the silence, Jingze slowly stepped forward and extended her hand. "I am willing—to use the memory of the first incantation my mother taught me as a sacrifice."

Bright red blood dripped down and dissolved into the memorial tablet.

Fufu then bit her lip tightly, "I'll exchange it for the memory of the first time I wrote the word 'hope'."

Noria stepped forward, her eyes brimming with tears, and said, "I dedicate the night my father taught me to read my first book..."

The monument glowed, the cracks widened, and an aerial corridor leading to the Courtyard of Lost Voices slowly opened—a path to the heart of forgotten language, and the beginning of the true secret of the "End of Sentence".

Deep within the courtyard, a thick twilight fog hung in the air, like a sunset frozen in time. A stone-paved path meandered among silent, withered vines and decaying flowerbeds, the tendrils swaying silently in the wind, as if listening to a whisper that should not exist.

“The atmosphere here… is not right.” Fufu stopped, her brows furrowing slightly. Her silver hair tinged with blue in the twilight, and her eyes reflected several crooked flowers of language, their petals twisted like letters, as if they were fragments of incomplete poems.

Noria whispered beside her, “The ‘language imprint layer’ is peeling away, and even the word roots are beginning to crumble… This courtyard may have already lost the protection of the normal language domain.”

Fufu nodded, gently stroking the hilt of her sword. The sword was named "Sunny Chant," and in this fragmented realm, it trembled slightly, as if uneasily responding to a deeper, silent call.

“Keep going. We have to find the source of the echo,” Fufu whispered.

The three-person team continued forward. Aina, draped in a greyish-white robe, brought up the rear, holding an ancient lamp. Its flame was no longer bright, but rather a faint, almost indistinct, lingering glow in the wind, illuminating the flickering remnants of memories on the stone wall ahead—

An old man sat beside the Well of Language, chanting softly. Syllables escaped from his lips but could not take shape, as if the world had rejected his existence.

“This is the echo left behind by the ‘Silent One’.” Aina raised her head, her eyes deep. “He was the last listener, trying to maintain the language’s continuity through self-sacrifice before the courtyard completely sank… but he failed.”

Fufu did not respond, but stopped in front of a flower bed.

In the flowerbed, a still-green vine swayed gently, its center bearing a silver "sentence-kernel fruit," upon which a line of tiny characters appeared—

"The mirror of memory does not reflect the truth."

“This is the sealing inscription of the Garden of Lost Voices.” Fou crouched down, her gaze fixed intently on the Sentence-Core Fruit. “But where… is the real ‘Lost Voice’ hidden?”

Noria drew a key inscribed with complex runes from her waist and slowly inserted it into the core of the sentence. In that instant, the air deep within the courtyard seemed to crack open.

"Click——"

What followed was a low rumble from underground.

The earth trembled, and the flames of speech flickered violently. In the distance, a stone wall collapsed, revealing a forgotten underground corridor, inscribed with ancient words: "This is the unspoken palace, where echoes linger."

Fufu and Noria exchanged a glance.

“Let’s go,” Fufu said.

She was the first to step into the cracked corridor, and the moment she did, the air seemed to change completely.

--silent.

It wasn't silence, but "voiceless," a "pure emptiness" where even breathing and heartbeat seemed to have been stripped away.

Aiina immediately deployed a protective barrier, with pale golden flames of language swirling around them, forming a closed domain of language that barely maintained their presence.

“‘Silent Zone’…the deepest part of the Courtyard of Lost Voices,” Aiina whispered. “We must cross it quickly, or our minds will gradually be worn away.”

They walked briskly through the corridor, surrounded by forgotten fragments of language, some once brilliant sentences now just relics gleaming with a cold, eerie blue light.

Just then, a violent ripple came from ahead, and a gray-white figure emerged from the end of the corridor, wearing a tattered robe of listening to incantations and holding a short blade twisted like a teardrop.

"...The one who speaks the truth?" Noria exclaimed in surprise.

The ashen figure looked up, his face obscured by a blur of speech, only a flicker of will remaining in his eyes. He uttered broken, intermittent calls:
"...Do not...approach...the...seal...place...of...the...last...voice..."

In an instant, Fufu drew her sword, its light resounding like an aria in the air. "Clear Chant" pierced straight at the phantom, but the opponent dodged it easily amidst the fluctuations of his voice, and his short blade spun and slashed towards her.

In an instant, runes, sword light, language structures, and fragmented sentences intertwined into a chaotic battleground.

"Noria!" Fufu shouted.

"understand!"

Noria quickly retreated, simultaneously summoning a quadruple sonic shield to block the opponent's attack, while Aina activated her voice domain, momentarily sealing off the enemy's speech rhythm and creating an opening for Fou.

"—Reconstruction: The Style of True Chanting!"

Fufu's sword slashed down from the top, and a whirlwind of cyan-gold flames suddenly erupted, knocking the speaker back to the end of the corridor.

The other person finally stopped moving and slowly knelt on one knee.

"...The unspoken Lord...will eventually descend...the final echo...unstoppable..."

His words gradually transformed into a cloud of smoke shaped like words in the air, slowly dissipating.

After the enemy was defeated, an ancient language monument slowly rose from the ground, with a sealing lock inlaid with a blue language stone at its center.

Fufu looked at it, her breathing becoming slightly heavy.

“This is the ‘Core of the Echoes’,” she whispered. “Legend has it that the earliest ‘prophetic fragments’ were buried here, and it is also the echo of the first resonance of the laws of language.” (End of Chapter)