The sorrow of other races did not make Mortarion weep.
He merely found it somewhat taxing.
Just as he had countless times before.
He was used to it.
Above the vast, profound starry sky, a river of stars like countless fallen suns illuminated the entire heavens. The planet, already possessing a thin atmosphere, now shone like a sun itself. From outer space, the whole world was a glaring sheet of white.
Only at the center of the planet's surface lay altar markings, cracked like a spiderweb—fine, winding, and densely packed like strange eye patterns.
Fourteen towering spires formed a perfect circle, rising from the white-sand desert and pointing their swords at the heavens.
Looking closely, beneath the blinding white light, countless small currents of mist coiled around the Blackstone Towers, which had been bleached gray-white by the radiance. They wriggled densely like living tentacles, drifting down in wisps from high above the black towers.
The planet-sized altar seemed to possess some strange magic. Space caved in around it, forming a trap akin to a colossal gravitational field. Above the planet's orbit, those enormous white fragments were slowly drawn toward it.
The altar captured the Shards of the Star God with tremendous speed, but at such a grand scale, even the fastest motion appeared agonizingly slow. Those shrieking stars fell, smashing furiously toward the planet's surface.
A magnificent meteor shower streaked across the sky.
A thousand arrows launched together, silver wyrms tore through the air—the shattered god was an entire rain of white arcs piercing the stars. The white lights falling toward the ground varied in size, visible to the naked eye. The largest fragment exceeded an entire continental plate, while the smallest was merely the size of a fist. Some were no thicker than a strand of hair.
They