"What was this all for?" As Nel, Navia, Amao, Kirara, and the others stepped forward to bless Durin one after another, Shen Fei suddenly looked toward the sky to his right.
"It was M's final wish. She felt Durin's fate had been far too pitiful, that Durin should not have met such an ending. So she created this world, hoping to give Durin a happy ending. Would you like to give Durin a blessing as well?" Alice's voice rang through the air, though surprisingly, Shen Fei was the only one who could hear it.
"Durin's fate was too pitiful? So Young Wolf Rostam's fate was simply what he deserved, then? And Dvalin—how could he attack poor Durin? He even killed him and suffered for centuries because of it." Shen Fei spoke expressionlessly.
Those words were like a frigid wind descending from the ninth heaven, instantly freezing the cheerful atmosphere. The smiles vanished from everyone watching. Somewhere in Mondstadt, a green-clad youth lay atop a great tree, drinking with a smile on his face. The wine jug in his hand suddenly slipped free and fell, yet he did not react at all.
Shen Fei's words had been far too devastating, especially to a certain green-clad youth. Durin was pitiful and should not have suffered such a fate—but what did that make the people of Mondstadt who died by his hand? What did that make the Knights of Favonius who had desperately tried to stop Durin's invasion? What did Young Wolf Rostam's sacrifice amount to? A joke?
Young Wolf Rostam, the former deputy commander of the Knights of Favonius and founder of Favonius Sword Art—his death changed the fates of three people: the Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius at the time, La Signora Rosalyne, and his disciple, the Pure White