Cillian stood above Mirethane's massive heads, the battlefield stretching beneath him like a stage of judgment, and a faint smile curved across his lips.
"You ask me… what do I think of life?"
The seven angels hovered in the air, radiant figures of light, their heads held high as if passing judgment from above. They gazed down at Cillian, waiting for his reply.
"Life… is just life," Cillian said at last. His voice wasn't loud, yet it carried clearly.
"Life is neither the miracle praised by the gods nor the marvel exalted by scientists. It is just life! Nothing more, nothing less."
He let out a wry sigh. "It's not particularly special, but it's not meaningless either. Across the multiverse, life is not rare, if is bountiful, it is inevitable. Born from chance,. It is one possibility among countless impossibilities."
