Chapter 613: The End of All Places (9.5k words)
At this moment, beneath the Dynasty, in the realm of the Knowledge Gate, inside Baemon’s palace, the expression of Death Lord Holland was particularly serious compared to his usual relaxed demeanor.
The reason was none other than Jasmine before him.
Ever since she had touched the Base and manipulated its power to release Eil from the Mother’s seal, her condition had become increasingly strange. It was as if she was being grasped by that crimson power and unable to break free. Her originally blue hair began to turn black, and countless black patterns appeared on her face, making her look exceptionally terrifying.
Initially, Holland thought Jasmine was simply needed to fully control the Base and couldn’t move, but soon he realized that the Base’s power was continuously eroding Jasmine’s body, prompting him to speak up,
“Priestess, this Base is—”
“I know, but if I stop, the seal of the Demon God Eil might be restored.”
Jasmine’s long eyelashes fluttered rapidly like butterfly wings, but her small face was pale. As she spoke, she was overtaken by that cold feeling within her, and she hastily lowered her head before saying,
“I don’t know what the situation is up there, and the status of Teacher Fisher is unclear too. At least we have to wait for definite news, or until they return.”
Emhart was flying anxiously back and forth, seeing the crimson quickly covering Jasmine’s fair arms, and he couldn’t help but grit his teeth and say,
“That Fisher guy definitely owes you all. Ugh, no, I need to go outside and check what’s happening! That damn Baemon is definitely—”
“—”
Looking at Jasmine, Holland seemed to have been moved, but he quickly turned his head to look outside, as if sensing some kind of breath,
“This is—”
“Boom!”
“What’s going on? Why is it shaking again? Isn’t there fighting above? Why does it feel like it’s coming from below?!”
Holland’s expression was momentarily stunned as he felt the breath continuously leaking from the ground. His body, which had already lost its finality, seemed to sense that breath too, long missing the feeling of tremors.
It was death.
He uncontrollably walked out of the palace and looked up at the molten lava above. Soon he saw a “door” opened in midair, as if some kind of seal was being broken, gently awakening the horror suppressed beneath the Dynasty.
“What?! Which animal did this?! The Knowledge Gate—no, not just the Knowledge Gate, this shaking sensation, could it be that some idiot opened all ten doors?!!”
The square-shaped Emhart flew out, looking at the huge opened door and becoming extremely flustered, flying back and forth like a headless fly,
“This is it! Originally, it was already troublesome for Fisher to deal with those guys. Even with Eil added, he probably wouldn’t be a match. Now it’s even more serious; how could death also be released? Isn’t this just making trouble?!”
At this moment, Holland snapped out of that obsessive feeling, but the soul which had been calm for so long faintly sensed some kind of opportunity. He turned around and quickly asked,
“If ten doors are opened, death will come out, what does that mean?”
“It means that the authority of death will awaken again! The last time this thing appeared, it was right in front of me, right here in the Ideal Nation. Never mind, you wouldn’t understand; you weren’t even born then. Just know that many, many people will die! This isn’t the time; there are no demigods here, and the remaining mythical beings are either asleep or fighting up there. Oh no, oh no, it’s over.”
Emhart’s single eye looked at the open door above, then glanced back at Jasmine, who was sitting on the ground completely surrounded by crimson. After hesitating for a moment, he seemed to make a resolution and said to Holland,
“No, we can’t let this happen; there’s still a chance. I need to go up there and find the criminal who opened the door, then hurry and close it. If the Goddess of Death fully awakens, then it’ll be chaos here!”
“Wait, you?”
Holland raised an eyebrow, looking at the square-shaped Emhart who was about to fly up, saying,
“Yes, it’s the great Sir Book! What’s wrong?”
“—”
Holland was silent for a moment, then also looked towards the heavens, shaking his head as he said,
“No, I’ll go. I should be a bit more convenient than you.”
“You go?”
Emhart looked at Holland suspiciously. To be honest, he didn’t trust the other party much, especially at this moment.
Everyone could see this guy was asking for death. Now that the authority of death was about to fully awaken, it was likely his only opportunity. If he went at this crucial time, it would seem a bit like sending meat buns to a dog.
If that happened, it wouldn’t only mean no relief for the situation above, but Jasmine would only be under his watch. That would be troublesome, leaving both sides unattended.
Faced with Emhart’s hesitation, Holland hunching over pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and held it in his mouth, then softly said,
“I’ll close that door. As for here, Fisher trusts you the most; the Priestess of the Dragon Court will be entrusted to you.”
“…Alright, but you have to keep your word.”
“Mm.”
Holland smiled helplessly, then spread his hands and shook out numerous bird corpses flapping their wings from his sleeves. Those birds quickly coordinated to grab his clothes and lift him off the ground, flying towards the open Knowledge Gate.
Below, Emhart watched as he disappeared, clearly still feeling uneasy. Unfortunately, he was merely a book and could do nothing significant, merely returning reluctantly to Baemon’s palace to keep an eye on Jasmine, who was wrapped in the power of the Base.
Inside the palace, Jasmine tightly closed her eyes, fighting desperately against that omnipresent cold feeling. Time felt viscous during this difficult process, making Jasmine feel like she was living through years.
Just then, a mysterious whisper suddenly reached her ears, possibly an expression from the depths of her heart, or perhaps a hushed whisper from some unknown void.
Jasmine lowered her head, her broad chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, soon exhaling a thin crimson mist from her mouth,
“What’s happening outside… what’s happening… Emhart first.”
“Um, outside… is, nothing, just focus on yourself, it’s fine.”
“Then where is Teacher Fisher? When is he… coming back?”
“Um, he’ll be back soon.”
“How soon is soon?”
“That, should be—”
“A thousand years isn’t enough; five thousand years isn’t enough. Do we need a million years?”
“Wh-what?”
“But… I can’t hold on anymore; I really… am going to become…”
“What? Jasmine, Jasmine, what are you saying? Listen carefully, Fisher is up there right now! Stay calm; you will definitely see him!”
“…Really?”
“Really, really, you have to stay calm!”
But Jasmine no longer replied to Emhart. She simply lowered her head, suddenly uttering a sentence that Emhart completely couldn’t understand,
“どこ.どこにいるの先生”
“Huh? Huh? Jasmine, what are you saying? Don’t fool around; you’re going to scare me to death!”
Emhart grew increasingly anxious, thinking that Jasmine was becoming so uncomfortable that she was speaking incoherently, so he flew around uncontrollably in the palace.
“Boom!”
As Holland ascended, death that was about to erupt became even more alarming. Of course, this was based on feeling, as at this moment, that authority had not yet completely detached, and the Goddess of Death had not fully awakened. From the naked eye, besides perceiving that the magma was becoming more restless, nothing else could be seen.
He quickly stopped near the vast, opened illusory doorway in midair, standing on the protruding rock walls, contemplating how to close it.
After hesitating for a moment, he gently reached into his pocket and pulled out a revolver, then leaped into the airspace that was opened.
“Thump!”
But as he soared into the air, a bandaged staff suddenly shot out from within, bursting the wrappings around it as it extended, forming a forked tip that locked around Holland’s neck, controlling his body in midair as he was about to enter the doorway.
“Uh!”
Holland quickly grasped the handle of that staff to prevent himself from falling, after all, he was not like those demons who had already reached the mythical rank or Fisher, nor did he have wings. If he fell, those birds would slowly drag him back up.
And in the next moment, a frail, bandaged figure appeared from that dark doorway, who tightly grasped the staff in his hand and said in an extremely terrifying voice,
“Who… oh, another unlucky one. Look at you, you’re just like me, stripped of death, left only with emptiness at the time of being stripped. So pitiful.”
Upon seeing Holland’s face, Solomon momentarily hesitated to let him go, and then sharply pulled the staff along with Holland he had controlled, bringing him into the dark space behind the doorway.
“But it doesn’t matter; do you know? Soon, soon, our liberation will come. Because that great one has truly pointed a way for us.”
Solomon joyfully tossed Holland onto the ground, quickly turned to look around him, only to realize they were now in a deep place wrapped in rich death aura. From beneath their feet, countless swirling chaotic substances linked to the illusory doors opened in all directions, precisely corresponding to ten doors.
As those ten doors opened, the death that had been hidden beneath the chaotic substances began to become restless and started leaking a phantom blue light.
Then, Holland heard a series of sounds, like some existence’s heart was beating strongly.
“Boom-boom. Boom. Boom.”
But this heartbeat was not just one, soon, another rhythm completely different from the first one began to beat, followed by a third, a fourth.
“Boom-boom. Boom. Boom.”
“Did you hear that, kid?” Solomon leaned in to listen, a sinister smile growing exaggerated on his face. He turned to Holland and asked, “Do you know what this sound is? Do you know the source of these sounds?”
Holland was slightly taken aback; memories from the Western Continent gradually awakened, and he frowned, looking down at the heartbeat sound coming from beneath the chaotic substances, murmuring in disbelief,
“The God of the Unconscious, the God of Destiny, the ultimate Heya?”
Yes, he who once worshiped the Death Cult deeply understood the legends surrounding this deity.
It was said that this goddess had ten thousand hearts, each beating to a completely different rhythm. These heartbeats were both proof of Her existence and the death knell. And when the heartbeat sounds from Her converged, She would appear and grant all living beings death.
“Exactly! Yes! We are currently right above the sleeping Heya, the very place where the Sea of Chaos sealed Him. Kid, just wait; in a moment, the Goddess of Death will awaken, and then we’ll be given back what we lack and finally die.”
Solomon looked at the back of Holland with extreme excitement, then quickly moved in front of Holland, pressing down on his shoulders, continuing,
“I can feel that you, like me, are in great pain, right? Outsiders don’t understand us; they think that losing death means we have attained immortality, yet in reality, they have no idea what that means.
“They don’t know that everything we had is frozen at the moment death was deprived of us. Our hearts are also firmly frozen in that moment, unable to accommodate any new changes, only able to watch as the remnants of our hearts fade away with time, ultimately leaving nothing behind.”
Solomon painfully covered his face, and the stench of rotting flesh emanating from the winding bandages on him instantly brought Holland back to the days he rolled around in piles of corpses.
He certainly understood what Solomon meant by that feeling.
Being deprived of death, which seemed like a gift, was actually an unadulterated curse.
Just as Solomon said, their hearts were immortalized at the moment of being deprived of death, but they could no longer accept any changes.
Every person, every existence that Holland newly encountered no longer felt like “existence” in his eyes but like lifeless objects. He could no longer gain feelings from anyone or anything.
Just like when an ordinary person went to Shivali and tasted new desserts that should be pleasing, for them, they couldn’t taste that brand-new flavor at all; their taste was as empty as their hearts.
Just like when a proper gentleman arrived in Saint Nali and met a beautiful lady, that should have been a memorable encounter, a burst of love, but for them, such love was like already withered flowers, and the lady who held it was a piece of walking rotten flesh.
Except for the previously experienced feelings and the subjects that generated feelings for them, all other opportunities to generate new feelings disappeared with their deaths, “frozen” at the day of loss.
Yet in this world, there were only the two of them who were “frozen,” with no ultimate one.
So, as Holland watched his childhood sweetheart, whom he had feelings for, get beaten to death by her husband, and saw his homeland, where he spent his childhood, get slaughtered by artillery and soldiers, finally turned to ruins, all of his feelings had already died; he would no longer give birth to any new life.
So when Solomon’s empire perished in internal strife, when his concubines, his children, and their bloodlines turned to dust in history, all of his inner being had already been killed, leaving only this still-moving living corpse behind.
As an ant, one always fantasizes about “eternal stillness,” yet does not realize that death is, in fact, “the movement that still has an end.”
When people conceptualize giving up their own motion to acquire “eternality,” they simultaneously desire everything they acquire to continuously grow without end through motion; however, this is utterly impossible for humanity.
Thus, it is this mismatch between movement and stillness that constitutes the true fallacy within the so-called “eternality,” as well as the real source of the two immortals’ desire for death at this moment.
“Just wait a bit longer, kid, wait a few more minutes, and the Goddess of Heya will completely awaken. Then we will obtain what we have dreamed of.”
“—”
In that instant, Holland might have also fallen into hesitation, for at this moment, what Fisher had once promised him, and also his true purpose in coming here was laid before him. He only needed to stand still and wait a few minutes to get it.
But in the next second, he sighed, spat out the tiny remnant of the cigarette that was left in his mouth, and said to the Solomon before him,
“When you died, cigarettes hadn’t even been invented yet, old ghost?”
“What—”
In the next second, he suddenly raised the gun and shoved it into Solomon’s mouth. With a loud bang, Solomon’s head exploded and fell to the ground.
But Holland did not hesitate at all; he quickly turned around and ran to the doorway he had entered, wanting to close it.
“You little brat!! Have you lost your mind? If you don’t want to die, don’t drag me down with you, and don’t ruin my good fortune!!”
Holland didn’t know how to close this illusory door, and as he reached out to grab it, his hand passed through the door frame and into the Dynasty. At the same time, Solomon, who sensed his intention to close the door, was completely enraged. He yelled furiously, lifted his staff, rushed forward, and thrust it into the Death Lord’s head, pinning him brutally into the chaotic substance.
“You motherf***er!”
Holland had just been revived and got killed by Solomon again. As he was about to be killed for the third time, Holland gritted his teeth and aimed a shot at his groin.
“Ouch!! Damn!!”
Solomon fell to the ground, clutching his groin, while Holland stood up and delivered a fierce kick, causing Solomon to bring his forehead directly to bear against his staff, waiting to commit suicide and then return to normal.
Holland, however, seized every moment, wrestling with Solomon while thinking about how to close those doors.
To his surprise, he quickly found a clue.
He noticed that at the top of these illusory doors floated some kind of mark that shimmered with various colors, appearing identical to the War God marks outside. After thinking about it, he raised his gun and shot.
“Crack!”
As one of the marks was hit and fell, the originally illusory door solidified instantly, closing automatically without any wind.
“Clack clack clack!”
“No!! What have you done?!”
But Holland didn’t give him a chance, and shot four more times in quick succession, hitting the remaining four marks and immediately closing half of the doors. As he fumbled to reload his revolver, Solomon, like a vengeful spirit, roared and pounced on him.
Holland couldn’t dodge in time and was abruptly pierced, sprawled in the chaotic substance below. The thrust hit his right chest, and the torn muscle caused his right hand—holding the revolver—to loosen, leading the pistol to tumble away.
“Clack clack clack clack!”
As time gradually passed, the chaotic material beneath them began to crack, and the heartbeat sounds around them grew increasingly intense, as if something was about to break through the surface.
“Good, since you don’t want to die, you can go see the true form of the Goddess Heya! Let her bless you and prolong your undying curse for generations and eons!”
Instead of killing him to restore him, Solomon forcefully pressed his head into the chaotic material beneath him, making his eyes stare directly at the cracks in that substance, confronting the light emanating from Heya’s true form below.
What consequences could one face when staring at a True God?
The previous Death Lord had also asked the old, undying Fate Lord this question, as she had stopped him from observing the “True Form of the Mother God” and the “Crimson God” within the Spirit Realm.
“At most, it would just be death. Am I afraid of dying?”
“No, directly looking at them probably won’t kill you, but beings below Demigod level will be cursed for staring at deities. The lower the rank, the more serious the curse; conversely, the same applies.”
“Cursed? What kind of curse?”
“A curse that makes you wish you were dead, far worse than your current state.”
“What if I close my eyes and observe?”
“Hehe, you can try to see if it works, you stupid pig.”
The conversation with the Fate Lord surged into his mind in an instant. At this moment, with Solomon gripping his head, Holland was falling face-first into the bluish light coming from below. Even if he wanted to close his eyes, he couldn’t, as the next second, his soul and all awareness were dragged downward, compelled by the most primal curiosity to examine the unknown existence in that dark place.
In that moment, it felt as if he had attended countless strangers’ funerals, lying in a coffin as people mourned him, or sitting below weeping over the loss of the deceased, or becoming the purest third party, collecting rewards to officiate this ceremony.
Is this death?
No, it’s not. What truly is death?
At this moment, Holland suddenly realized he could not remember the name and appearance of the childhood sweetheart he had loved for so many years, nor could he recall why he had left her to struggle outside, leading to her having to marry that abusive husband.
What did he just witness?
Time froze in that second, but the next moment, the Death Completion Manual on his chest emitted an extremely unclean glow.
“Holland.”
“Leika.”
From the infinite bluish light, a woman with an ordinary appearance and dark complexion emerged from the filth, blocking the bluish light, filling his entire field of vision.
At this moment, he suddenly remembered that everyone in his hometown was starving. How could the childhood sweetheart he loved have been beautiful?
She must have been thin and weak, her skin darkened and body distorted due to harsh living conditions and years of labor.
It wasn’t he who wanted to leave; it was because her family couldn’t afford food that her father sold her to a wealthy man in the city as a slave, so that they could have rations to survive the winter.
So that wealthy man never married her but treated her as a toy, ultimately beating her to death in various humiliations.
At this moment, Holland’s pupils constricted sharply. His heart, which had been frozen after being deprived of death for an unknown period, finally experienced a slightest flicker of life at this moment. Even if it was just a little, it was enough for Holland to react.
Taking advantage of the moment when that “Leika” blocked Heya’s true appearance, he gritted his teeth and thrust backward, tearing his body with the staff while he flipped over and controlled Solomon. In his incredulous gaze, Holland retaliated, firmly pressing Solomon’s head against the crumbling chaotic material, forcing him to face Heya below.
But unlike Holland, Solomon didn’t have the Death Completion Manual. The moment he looked downward, he seemed to see something incredible, his whole body trembling uncontrollably, then his hunched figure started to warp out of control. Even the bandages tightly wrapped around him sprouted foul-smelling bluish feathers.
“Damn!”
But Holland completely ignored him. He rolled over, pulled out the fork embedded in him, and shakily picked up the revolver nearby, struggling to reload.
“Ahhhh!!!”
Behind him, Solomon’s wailing grew increasingly piercing, almost morphing into the cry of some unknown bird. Holland, having finished reloading, aimed at his own head and pulled the trigger.
After death, he jolted upright again, returning to peak condition, and raised his revolver once more to aim at the War God mark above the door.
“Bang bang bang bang bang!!”
With five shots in rapid succession, as the magazine emptied, all the doors began to solidify and slowly close.
Holland took a moment to catch his breath, eyeing the now-closed doors. Estimating the collapse speed of the chaotic material beneath, he figured he could maintain it long enough to prevent Heya from escaping.
Breathing heavily, he reached into his chest to light a cigarette, but the next second, the now monstrous Solomon leaped over him, reaching out to grab the last closing door, bleeding from every orifice while howling,
“No! No! No! It can’t be like this. I’m not dead yet. Ah! I can’t let it close!”
“Damn!”
Holland dropped the cigarette in shock as he watched that last door halt its closing under Solomon’s insistence. He had no time to reload and hastily drew the forked staff from the ground, charging directly at Solomon. A fork pierced into his feathered back.
“Ahhh!!”
“Let go, close the door!”
“Why should I?! You…”
Solomon bit down, glancing back at Holland with a grotesque face sporting numerous eyes and an exposed heart. Seeing him blushing, with veins popping on his forehead, gripping the fork, trying to stop him from closing the door.
In that moment, seeing his resolute gaze, Solomon seemed to realize something, incredulously murmuring,
“How is this possible? You shouldn’t… how can you awaken new feelings? It’s flowing again, but you… ahhh!”
“Let go!!”
Holland gritted his teeth and pushed the staff deeper into Solomon’s body, feeling that flicker of life begin to surge within him. Even though this little spark would mean nothing to an ordinary person, for dried-out undead like them, it felt like a flood, like a tsunami.
Solomon’s grip on the door began to loosen, and finally, the next moment, his whole body uncontrollably toppled backward, allowing Holland to breathe a sigh of relief and step back.
The door slowly closed before him, but he had no intention of leaving. Just then, Solomon suddenly extended his massive hand, grabbing him and tossing him out of the swiftly closing door.
The thick scent of death inside was about to solidify into a prison, yet at the last moment, Holland was thrown out.
He hurriedly turned to look back and saw countless eyes of Solomon staring at him simultaneously, the struggling humanity wavering within, but at the moment the door closed, it was swallowed by a curse, transforming into a being neither human nor demon. Holland couldn’t comprehend the meaning of his final action.
“Ahhhh!”
Solomon’s howling was blocked by the door, while Holland fell dazedly from the high sky back into the Demon Dynasty’s realm.
The Dynasty shook violently, but his mind was a blank, completely unclear, only feeling himself plummeting fast.
“Bang bang… bang.”
In his ears, the seemingly hallucinatory heartbeat sound continued. He initially thought it was the heartbeat of the death deity Heya, but it felt too singular and weak, unlike the unsettling heartbeat of a True God.
In the next moment, he reached for his chest, feeling the rhythm matching the sound he had heard.
It turned out this was his own heartbeat.
He blinked, but the next moment, his entire being plunged straight into the seething lava below, instantly swallowed and disappearing within.
“Pfft.”
Hmm.
Perhaps this would finally answer the question raised by Fisher when he entered the Gate of Knowledge: “What would happen if Holland fell into lava?”
“Ugh, I can’t be bothered with you, defeated wretch! It seems something has changed on the Dynasty side; I need to go check it out!”
At this moment, in the middle of the southernmost sea of the Southern Continent, amidst countless perilous mountains rising from the ocean, six-armed Eil finally noticed the raging flames and stirring death aura over there. While worrying about Fisher and the situation, she suddenly leaped from this place into the clouds and rushed towards it.
And here, the towering mountains
Hmm, they didn’t exist an hour ago. It was just those two Mythical Beings of the eighteen ranks fighting with all their might, altering the terrain beneath the sea. Furthermore, Eil raised dozens of mountains from the Southern Branch Mountain and smashed them down, creating an island, which appeared so sudden and scarred.
“Whoosh, whoosh.”
At this moment, the uneven and weak points between those towering mountains were continuously seeping seawater, forming a hundred or so “waterfalls” around, flowing into the giant pit in the center of this island, hundreds of meters deep.
Inside the pit, scattered feathers, deep-set arrows embedded in the ground, and pools of blood all indicated the intense battle that had just occurred.
In the center of the crater, a fractured figure lay on the cracked ground, with one arm broken and both feet embedded in the earth, unable to rise.
His face was smeared with blood, and with one eye barely open, he weakly gazed at the sky, where it was the afternoon, the sun shining brightest and hottest.
Beside him, the warm seawater, scorched by the sun, finally reached him after falling from the nearest waterfall, but it was only two or three centimeters thick, just barely waking up his muddled consciousness.
“I lost.”
It was Barbatos, who had battled Eil the War God until the last moment.
“Tap, tap.”
At this moment, the sound of footsteps approaching and walking on the water surface reached his ears. Having been struck with great force and embedded into the ground, Barbatos couldn’t turn his head, only tilting his eyes to see a figure casting a sympathetic glance in the shadow formed by the sunlight.
Barbatos’s lips trembled for a moment but nothing came out. Eventually, that figure slowly crouched down and then sat beside him, gently extending a hand to carefully lift him from the dent in the ground, cradling him in their arms.
“Don’t mind it, sweetheart. She was only one step from the Nineteen Rank. All that was missing was a total war. It’s just that she has long refused to fight and hadn’t lifted a hand. Today, her fighting with you surprised me.”
In the hazy pink eyes was the deepest love familiar to Barbatos. At this moment, Sid, who refrained from intervening in their conflict, finally awaited the conclusion and reunited with his beloved Barbatos.
Barbatos opened his mouth but did not respond to Sid’s words, only asking,
“And Agareth on that side?”
“He also lost. Something seems to have gone horribly wrong over there, almost burning the crevice down, and even the authority of death is restless; it’s quite troublesome.”
“So that’s it.”
But with the conversation stopping here, neither Sid nor Barbatos made a sound. Barbatos simply extended his hand and grasped Sid’s hand that was tending to his wounds.
It seemed Barbatos wanted to explain something, perhaps wanting to clarify why he left the Dynasty and followed Baemon’s schemes; he also wanted to say now that Agareth had also failed, meaning Baemon’s plot was perhaps just deceiving them.
But at this moment, carried by the gentle sea breeze from the outside, Barbatos didn’t say anything, only feeling his lover’s gentle caress, sensing his fingers gliding across his forehead covered in dried blood and over the uneven cuts, until his slightly narrowed eyes softly closed, taking in everything around him.
Perhaps until this moment, they had not truly attained freedom, sealed in that Dynasty by the ties of their race due to the Mother God’s actions.
But at least at this moment, Barbatos’s soul was free, like the pervasive gentle breeze.
Who would have thought?
The ending of Barbatos, who so loved honor and observation, now had only one audience; and Sid, who utterly cherished flesh and ecstasy, at this moment was also not demanding anything, not even overly affectionate contact.
After a long while, Barbatos’s explanation finally came slowly,
“That false god doesn’t understand demons or us. Even in sealing, they want to separate us into different realms. I just want your true form to return to my side.”
Sid closed his eyes and simply smiled, saying,
“Ah, I know everything, sweetheart.”
“…”
Aside from that, the two War Gods had no more conversation.
At this moment, only the gentle breeze blew, and the sea rippled quietly, drawing a period at this battlefield.
