Attack the Heathens, Crowned King of Nations

Outside the World Tree, under the locust-like sweep of the Angel Army, every remaining enemy was annihilated by Skyfire.

As countless tangible things disintegrated, innumerable extracted specks of light-like spirit particles transformed into hundreds of millions of streams, flowing like a thousand rivers into the sea toward the Tower of End constructed from twelve pillars of light.

The scene was both illusory and real, so perilous, so magnificent.

Like shattered rainbows scattering down as candy; like flocks of sheep crossing the night sky, bleating loudly; like a colossal god plucking down the stars, with stardust falling from his palm...

Vaguely, the radiance of Heaven reflected a lush green prairie. The silver-haired girl mounted upon a warhorse crossed a gentle slope and galloped toward the Golden Tent below the high ridge.

Yet the faster she ran, the farther away the tent became.

Those familiar faces seemed not to see the king racing toward them. They dismantled the tents, packed their belongings, loaded their things onto carts, and began their migration. Their distance from the mounted girl steadily grew.

At the end of the road stood one radiant gate after another, abruptly rising from the prairie.

Beyond the gates, streams babbled, the soil was fertile, and mana sustenance covered the land.

This was the Heaven they had sought. This was the destination they had longed for.

The figures of light, having cast aside their burdensome shells, stepped into the halls of the Eternal Heaven with happy smiles.

No matter how hard the girl on the prairie tried, no matter how much she accelerated, she could never return to the departing procession.

As the gates of Heaven closed completely and the light went out, the entire prairie sank into still, silent darkness. The girl left behind looked around in confusion, saying nothing.

"Holy!