The disaster Helpo had unleashed had subsided, but the volcano continued to erupt. Surging lava rolled like giant waves, sweeping through and devouring everything across the land near the volcano.
There were no wails, no cries of grief—only the volcano's roar echoing between heaven and earth. If not for the Sun God's divine protection, perhaps not a single person from this vanishing civilization would have survived to witness it.
The song for sending off the dead gradually faded away.
All the priests fell into confusion as well.
"What are those of us left behind supposed to do?"
One priest spoke with sorrowful eyes and a grief-stricken tone. He sought help from the infinitely radiant Sun God, but the Sun God could only sigh softly and offer a few words of comfort.
"Live on carrying the regrets of those who have passed." The great power of gods might accomplish many things, but it was helpless before inevitable fixed points in history.
Just as they could not stop Ragnarok from arriving.
Sometimes.
Knowing was more tormenting than not knowing.
"Father, why hasn't this little guy woken up yet?" The Reckless Goddess had been checking Ian's condition the whole time. She circled around the glowing Ian more than a dozen times.
The Young Wizard's eyes remained tightly shut, and the aura radiating from him gave her increasingly intense palpitations—as if she were a rabbit facing a natural predator, seized by an uncontrollable urge to flee.
"He'll wake when it's time for him to wake." The Sun God stated the obvious. Perhaps even he could not tell when Ian would awaken, yet he still had to put on a show to preserve his dignity as a father.
The Reckless Goddess did not doubt him.
She merely raised a hand and lifted Ian's eyelid. Images