A platinum-colored starlight danced across the battlefield as the spear of light was shot forth.
The ethereal glow trailing the holy spear made it appear as though it were a brave warrior dashing across the battlefield. A starlight reminiscent of the hero who always charged ahead, standing before everyone, raced across the combat zone.
‘Ah, damn it…’
Destel, having thrown the spear, felt his vision start to blur. His body felt cold. Excessive bleeding. Blood gushed uncontrollably from wounds that had pierced and torn him apart. As the last vestige of light left Galahal, Destel’s body also followed.
…He couldn’t see clearly ahead.
Yet, determined to witness the outcome of his thrown spear, Destel blinked rapidly, forcing his eyes to focus on what lay before him. Just as he was about to regain clarity, a sudden feeling of unease washed over him.
So slow. Unbearably so.
Time felt as though it was crawling by, then it simply stalled. In that stilled moment, Destel caught sight of something drifting before him.
…Ash dust?
It was ash dust, a symbol of the Ashen Mage, Raniel. But it was different from the ash dust he often scattered. While Raniel’s dust felt like wood waiting for a spark to ignite, this… was ash that could no longer burn.
Having exhausted everything, it bore no attachment anymore… Thus, in a sense, it appeared liberating.
Rustle.
In the frozen moment, only the ash dust moved.
As the snow-like ash dust touched Destel’s body, his eyes, which had been focused straight ahead, began to reflect something very far away.
All the giant gods surrounding him.
The battlefield, which had been gradually tilting.
Raniel, who was fighting beyond it.
All were overlapped by a different scenery.
What Destel saw was a land stained black. A desolate land where no life could thrive. It stretched endlessly to the horizon, resembling the remnants of a world that had met its demise, Destel thought for a fleeting moment.
Blink.
With clarity returning to his vision, Destel looked ahead.
There, someone stood. Coincidentally, he was donned in a suit of platinum conqueror, which looked familiar. Though stained with blood and dirt to the point of being unrecognizable, surely that was…
Slosh.
At the sound, Destel glanced down.
Blood was pooling beneath him. The flowing blood connected him to the man standing beyond. Following the trail of blood, Destel shifted his gaze.
“Why?”
“Why didn’t you help me?”
“Why did you run away? Why?”
“You called yourself a hero. You, the strongest hero, all of you…”
A voice emerged from the blood.
With a wailing tone, the desolate landscape was overlaid with images. There was a girl sobbing while hugging Belnoa’s corpse. Chloe, scratching her skin with her nails and screaming, stood there.
“Why? Why, why…”
The blood continued to flow.
From the spillage, accusations, resentment, and scorn were echoed, but eventually, amidst the incessant blood flow, any voice faded away.
“…”
The man standing at the end of the blood.
He slowly turned around. Turning to meet Destel’s gaze. His face, though different from Destel’s, wore an expression that was equally distinct. Yet, Destel recognized him.
It was his future self standing there.
That future self looked at Destel. Drenched in blood, he stood atop a pool of blood and slowly opened his mouth.
“…Ah.”
He groaned, smiling.
A faint smile.
Just before that smile faded, he asked a question.
“Regret it this time?”
As Destel tried to respond, that distant figure chuckled and turned away.
“Good to hear.”
As if he had heard the answer.
In that moment, bam, the scenery shattered. What shattered the illusion was the platinum holy spear thrown by Destel. Like the frozen clock hands moving again, the ruined world’s scenery was obliterated as the spear surged forward.
Wham!
Piercing through the giant gods, the spear of light surged across the battlefield, ultimately reaching the apostate. She stretched her hand towards the spear, but it pierced through her outstretched arm, driving straight into her heart. The same spot where a hero had previously thrust his spear.
The spear’s tip lodged deep into the heart of calamity.
With a flash, starlight accumulated in the spear, was released abruptly. The overwhelming starlight engulfed the apostate. In an instant, the world was bathed in starlight.
Boom!
A deafening roar echoed even from far away.
The black cross that had shot into the sky wobbled as the expanding hole in the now enormous sky ceased. The giant gods obeying the apostate’s orders also came to a halt.
Thus, a gap was formed.
Thus, a path was opened.
As he gazed at the path formed by his thrown spear and recalled the uncertain scenery he had just glimpsed… Destel slowly turned his head.
“…”
His juniors stared at him, soaked in blood.
Gazing at the two, Destel smiled.
“Go on.”
He pointed towards the apostate, saying.
“To your stage.”
Nodding in agreement, Chloe and Belnoa raced towards the heart of the temple as Destel plopped down to his place. Sitting there, he mulled over the question posed by his future self.
Do you have no regrets? he had asked.
In response to that question, Destel muttered:
“Nope. No regrets.”
Watching his juniors sprinting along the path he had opened, Destel smiled, more satisfied than ever.
2.
The apostate, Gleria Bel Armias, gazed at the spear aimed at her. A straight line, crossing her path, the spear of light approached rapidly. Although it had already departed from her owner’s hand, hurled forth…
To the apostate’s eyes, it appeared entirely different.
Amidst the encroaching starlight, she saw it.
The figure of a hero, gripping the holy spear, rushing towards her, bleeding. She beheld the radiance he had kindled. Entranced by that glow, which she thought she would never witness again, her response came too late.
Wham!
The spear of light pierced through her palm.
It pierced deep, following through to stab her heart. Gazing at the strobe of the holy spear pulsating violently as it lodged in her heart, she couldn’t help but smile.
With a flash.
Followed by a resounding boom that shook her ear drums.
The concentrated starlight erupted, shaking the apostate’s body. The starlight bursting from her heart scorched her retinas. It tore apart her flesh and mortal form.
Sizzle, crack!
The cross that erupted towards the sky trembled.
In its shaken aftermath, the gap in the sky momentarily froze. Even the connection with the summoned creatures faltered, causing the gods to cease motion. After the light’s detonation subsided, what remained was the battered body of the apostate.
Thud.
A handful of blood spilled from her mouth and eyes.
Staggering, she looked at her mutilated self. Her arms, charred and ragged from the starlight; burnt skin. A gaping hole in her chest. She looked at these and smiled.
Though the spear vanished with the explosion of light, the wound it carved would never fade. Over the scar made by Galahal, Destel engraved a new one.
“Ah, really…”
Feeling the scar, the apostate chuckled.
Bleeding, she moaned.
An unexpected variable. A bizarre variable. At this moment, nothing aligned with what the apostate had anticipated.
‘An insignificant human who couldn’t protect anything, devoured by madness and destined to perish, was expected to flee indefinitely…’
Those who believed that the glow had dimmed.
Those who thought it could no longer shine, were regaining their light once again. Showing her that light.
‘As if everything I believed was wrong.’
All predictions had gone awry.
The prophecy she had spoken fell to disregard.
The path she walked as an apostate, her beliefs, and values were all utterly denied.
“Indeed.”
The apostate looked ahead, bleeding.
There, coming forth was the successor of the contract, who wouldn’t let this opportunity pass. The lovely successor, preparing a stage for her, made the apostate beam with joy. Unrivaled joy filled her heart, even amidst failure.
Zing!
The infiltrating Raniel swung his fist.
His fist, cloaked in layers of overlapping spells, struck the apostate’s face. With an impact that rattled her mind, the apostate gruesomely rolled along the ground.
“Ah, ah…”
Managing to prop herself up, she glanced around.
She saw figures advancing toward her from all directions. They shredded the nameless gods, wreaking havoc on the stage she had prepared.
One held Ganikalt’s sword.
One who had also been chosen by the stars.
One bearing Belial’s will.
One who resembled her.
One who had traversed her path, reaching the ultimate limit.
“Show me everything you have.”
And,
“If not, this is your end.”
All those brought to this moment were the successor of the contract.
Glimpsing Raniel drawing nearer, the apostate burst into laughter. If you have something, then reveal it. Now grasping the intent behind the words, she was enlightened.
“I didn’t imagine this.”
The apostate raised her hand, brushing her face.
“Now I understand what you’re trying to achieve and why you’re desperately seeking to deny me.”
The apostate chuckled.
“Because you resemble him.”
She would thoroughly crush her.
Not someone who would act solely for a singular purpose.
“You, then.”
The apostate tilted her head.
“You’re trying to strip the apostasy away from me, aren’t you?”
Flinch. Raniel frowned.
“You aim to separate me, the apostate, from Gletus… and Saint Gleria Bel Armias. You plan to take the apostasy away from me and kill me as the saint, don’t you?”
That’s the salvation that child envisioned.
Perhaps, it was the salvation he desired.
“Much appreciated.”
As her hand lowered to her chin, a pure white light surged forth from her palm. Tick, tick, the light blossomed as her divinity revealed itself.
Tick, tick, tick!
The radiant light began to darken. As the darkened light flowed, the apostate pointed her finger towards the sky. It wasn’t fully opened, but that alone was sufficient.
There’s still time needed for the reversed destiny.
But the dawn has already been achieved.
As she raised her finger toward the sky, Raniel sighed deeply. Exhaling, she tapped her ear.
“Hey, Cardi.”
Flinch. The apostate froze, her raised finger falling still. At the sound of that familiar name, she turned to face Raniel. The last thing she couldn’t let go, the final attachment remained.
“That’s what they say?”
“You…”
The apostate gazed at Raniel with a distracted expression, as if speaking to someone else. There was a thread extending from her ear to some location far off.
“What are you thinking to do?”
“Who are you talking to?”
Raniel did not respond to the apostate’s question.
She simply chuckled softly and tilted her head as if to provide her words for the apostate’s ears. The more she spoke, the more the apostate’s eyes wavered.
…The truth dangles not far away.
Then, is that person here?
Did they come all this way? Breaking the rules of non-interventions to this extent? No, surely not. Such fortunate tales don’t exist.
‘But, perhaps…’
Denial churned inside her, yet the apostate’s gaze continued to quiver as she stepped towards Raniel. In a shaking voice, she spoke.
“You.”
“It won’t be easy, you know?”
“Who, who are you talking to?”
“Let’s see how far we can take this.”
“I was asking…”
Raniel relaxed her hand from the earring.
She held a smirk as she lifted her head.
“Who else could it be?”
With a thud, Raniel stomped the ground.
In an instant, she closed the distance to the apostate, proclaiming.
“An utterly foolish mage, rolling for a thousand years simply to save you.”
Snap,
Raniel seized the apostate’s outstretched finger.
