Godwyn fell out of the golden light. He hit the ground, his mind still immersed in that incredible radiance.
He was alive, but he knew that from now on, he too would fade away. As a Demigod, however, he would live far longer than any mortal.
In the distance, the Elden Beast's light gradually dimmed. It seemed to have decided that Godwyn had lost, so it would not continue fighting.
Radagon finally breathed a sigh of relief. The losses were already enormous, but at least they had not grown any further.
Godwyn lay amid the ruins, gazing up at the sky mingled with gold and blackish purple. The corners of his mouth held the satisfaction of success, yet there was some regret as well.
"It worked. Not how I expected... but..."
As he murmured those words, Godwyn suddenly grew dejected. Yes, he had desperately staked everything on this gamble. Yet in the end, he had not even achieved what he had envisioned. All he had accomplished was something half-finished, a product of compromise.
"Am I... incapable of doing anything?"
No one answered him. The wind passed through the ruins, carrying dust, smoke, and the smell of blood.
All the sounds grew more and more distant. Godwyn gradually recovered some strength, and, clever as he was, foresaw what awaited him and promptly fled.
Horace had no time to concern himself with Godwyn's whereabouts for now. He hurriedly declared, "The starting point of conflict has been set. A thousand years from now, all wars will begin there."
With that patch applied, the dust finally settled on everything.
Occasional cries rose from the ruins of Leyndell. Survivors were searching for their loved ones, while knights tallied the casualties.
At that moment, "Death" caught on. Its presence suddenly intensified, and a questioning will surged