The Choice

Beneath the projection of the Ivory Tower, the Bhagavad Gita's hoarse chant resounded through heaven and earth.

Yet above the Tanba Inner Circle, the framework of Truth Everlasting had not wavered in the slightest.

Such a head-on clash was no longer a contest between two individuals, but a confrontation between the laws of the Ivory Tower and the Land of Nothingness, the borderlands and hell.

"Look, beneath the witness of the entire realm, the hope of the future rises higher and higher. How wonderful."

Woodman looked down upon the splendor that had fallen to the ground, unable to conceal his mockery. "Your expectations for him are far too great. You expect him to settle everything with one hand and become tomorrow's star. Aren't you dreaming a little too sweetly?"

"This is the young people's stage now, Woodman."

The old man who had become Krishna replied coldly, "They created this miracle. They should be the ones to enjoy it."

"And they will be the ones to swallow the final bitter fruit, beneath the eyes of the whole world."

Darkness and amusement surfaced in Woodman's gaze. "A hero's achievement takes but an instant, and so does a hero's fall—your destiny came from India's hero-maker. Do you truly not understand that?

Since ancient times, oaths have been the finest aid to forging heroes, and the best means of destroying them as well... Or does Cú Chulainn's example not serve as a warning? Was Karna's tragic death not enough to make you wary?"

"He is not Cú Chulainn, nor is he Karna."

"Who knows? Who can say for certain whether a holy knight might eat a dead infant?"

Woodman laughed uproariously. "I never expected such a scene to emerge, nor did I expect the Tanba Inner Circle to find salvation. You have won this