The territory humanity had spent centuries carving out, inch by inch.
Three days.
In just three days, nearly all of it had fallen.
Then, the voices came.
They did not come from her ears.
They came from the depths of her soul.
"Angel God!"
"Your Excellency!"
"Please come back!"
"Save us!"
"Child... my child is still in the city..."
"Angel God! We don't want to die..."
More and more voices.
More than ever before.
In the past, prayers had been filled with worship, longing, and praise for the gods.
Now, there was only fear.
Every voice was like a hand gripping her tightly.
Someone in the east was crying for help.
Someone in the west.
In the north and south, tens of thousands were likewise being chased by the beast tide.
Qian Yuhan hovered in midair.
For the first time, she did not fly toward the place where the prayers were most concentrated.
Because she knew.
It was useless.
It was the same no matter where she went.
If she saved one city, ten others would fall.
If she killed one swarm of insects, the next would already be flying a hundred miles away.
She was only one person.
She had only one sword.
Only six shattered wings.
She truly—could do nothing.
Angel City, one of humanity's last great cities.
The beast tide was already visible beyond the city walls.
A black torrent spread across the horizon.
The last remnants of the Angel Legion stood atop the walls.
No one spoke.
Everyone merely gripped their weapons and watched the enemy draw ever closer.
Poseidon had returned as well.
But even he had not left the city.
A broken golden streak fell from the sky.
Boom.
Qian Yuhan staggered down before the temple.
She ignored everyone.
Step by step, she