At the same time.
At the edge of the star system, within the comet cloud.
Axel, who had changed the world, vanished into that hazy fragment of the Cradle alongside the Sunfall Slash.
The surging torrent of gravity slammed the entire spacetime bubble against a semitransparent expanse of frozen spacetime, like gray crystal. Countless suspended particles drifted within it—cosmic dust from low-light-speed universes that had wandered inside over tens of thousands of years. And at its core, beneath the gaze of the Precognitive World, endless condensed light lay still.
But now, several veins of congealed light had reached the fragment's edge. Like severed blood vessels, the frozen light transformed into an unceasing tidal surge, releasing unimaginable energy as it struck toward Terra.
It was fire, fiercely burning lightflame, yet it had been frozen. Like countless solidified lattices of light, crisscrossing and woven into a net, it warded off calamities from without while preventing those within from leaving.
Within the roaring tide of gravity, one mass of light wrapped itself around another, sealing itself inside. It stopped the light veins from leaking—and imprisoned both itself and its father.
The other figure was flung away when the spacetime bubble shattered.
Ian Silverpeak had already exhausted his strength. At the very end, he no longer had the power to steer the curvature bubble directly into the Cradle fragment and ensure the integrity of Axel's seal. But Mikael took up the final baton and made himself the last seal.
And at the end, that blazing light of heaven looked upon the two figures who had sealed it away.
He felt no unwillingness, no regret, nor any solace.
For the sun setting was the iron law of heaven and earth's cycle. Why did the next sun to rise have to be himself? So long as