No one knew what they had spoken about, nor did anyone know whether that white-haired figure had truly descended into the boy.
Only that day.
The dazzling purple radiance shrouded the entire Mage Tower, lingering for a long, long time. In that fleeting glimpse, they had all seen the figure they knew and revered.
No matter what the event.
No matter who the person.
Under the erosion of time, everything would gradually become a legend that lived on only in the memories of others.
They knelt outside the Mage Tower for an entire day. Many of the ancient Jailers gazed into the distance, dazed. They remembered a past so remote it seemed countless lifetimes away. Back then, the world had not yet become what it was now. Countless planes squeezed together in the crowded cosmos, while beyond lay endless turmoil and disorder. They had been nothing more than a band of freaks struggling to survive along that boundary.
And afterward, so very much had happened.
They had witnessed that ancient, almost forgotten God War, watched the beginning of the Great Cataclysm from afar, and heard their master's distant weeping amid the chaotic Vast Cosmos.
But it was truly too remote, so remote that almost everyone had forgotten.
Yet only they knew.
Everything in the old world had been reshuffled at that moment. The ancient winter of divine rule, which had lasted countless years, had finally come to a complete end.
And everything that followed.
Every era that had existed up to the present.
Had stemmed from that rebirth through destruction.
They gazed at the resplendent purple curtain of light outside the Mage Tower. Though they knew that fanaticism could sometimes be a poison, though they knew he had spent his entire life resisting becoming a new god in their hearts,