[An offer to you, the chosen.]
[A presentation to you, the abandoned.]
That voice resounded through the souls of all six of them.
Ophelia wanted to respond, yet she had no idea how she should respond—or perhaps no response was needed at all.
Because—
[If you desire glory, choose to awaken.]
[If you desire eternal sleep, choose to slumber.]
[God does not care about your choice.]
She remembered.
She should have nodded.
Though she did not know how she had done so, or even how she had nodded.
But after that—
She, they, had been given a mission.
Go and cultivate it.
Go and build the Lostbelts each of them had been assigned.
Cultivate, cultivate.
So—
The girl did not close her eyes.
She merely did her utmost to turn her Mystic Eyes upon the Lostbelt assigned to her.
—I'll live up to Wodime's expectations—
—I'll face the Fate given to me, just as he did—
Look.
See with my own eyes.
Pursue it, seek it.
Probe the end of time.
Even if this was a world abandoned by Proper Human History, it should, naturally, possess corresponding [merits].
Pray, hope.
And then, I saw—
[Flames].
Those deafening words still rang through her mind.
"You are watching me, aren't you?"
"Who are you?"
"What kind of existence are you?"
"Are you a chief god? No, you're not."
"I already burned that damned Odin to death."
"Are you the great wolf? No, not that either."
"I already devoured that beast Fenrir."
"Are you a surviving god?"
"Or merely a human?"
"Ahh—I think I remember now. It seems, it seems there really was one pitiful god who survived within my flames."
"So—you are Skadi?"
—No.
I am myself.
A woman who should have died in the flames.
"Oh."
That deafening voice was