We Are All Heretics

The Site of Grace in the Realm of Night quietly flickered with golden light.

Gapar lay still on the ground, his unblinking eyes fixed on the star-filled night sky.

The air carried the rustling of grass stirred by the wind, the footsteps of running animals, and the melodious songs of the Ancestral Followers.

Yet not a single sound came from Gapar himself.

He simply lay there without moving, staring at the night sky. If not for the faint rise and fall of his chest, passersby would probably have taken him for a corpse.

In fact, the greatest difference he felt between himself and a corpse was that he still had a breath left in him and could not stop thinking.

The stars in the night sky gradually turned into the round, plump shape of the Mimic Tear, and that round little blob slowly shifted shape.

It became a Tarnished with three heads and six arms, wielding a spear and Great Shield, a curved sword and another curved sword, a staff and another staff.

Gapar's already lifeless gaze immediately grew even deader, turning practically gray-white.

When was the last time he had worn that expression? Probably when the Rust Monster had ruined his beloved weapon.

Ugh, remembering that made him feel even more miserable!

Gapar pressed his lips together, his eyes plainly spelling out the words unwilling to accept this.

"I still had strength left! I can't accept this!"

The moment he thought of that Comet Azur that had outright erased his physical form, his whole body felt awful. Being one-shot by that thing was one matter, but what hurt him most was—

"At least let me swing that final sword!"

The resentment in his heart turned into a skyward roar.

"This wasn't the all-out battle I imagined!"

What did he