Chapter 115: A Light Descends Before the Elf
In the depths of the Godfall Land.
Time had lost all meaning here. There was only an endless, eternal darkness. The thick black mud, like a great, black ocean, crashed against a single, shimmering silver barrier, wave after wave, each one carrying a nauseating stench.
Serie walked through this sea of despair, each step a heavy one. She held the Holy Right Sword, Athos, in a death grip, its power the only thing keeping the all-consuming darkness at bay. But in this place, a place of a god's final, desperate act, even the power of Athos seemed to dim. The holy sword that had once been able to create a barrier that could encompass the entire Elven Kingdom now struggled to maintain a small, spherical shield, a shield that was constantly being crushed and warped by the immense pressure.
Outside the barrier was a darkness that could swallow all things.
With each wave of black mud, the silver shield would tremble violently, as if it was about to shatter at any moment.
Serie's face was deathly pale. She bit her lower lip, so hard that it almost bled.
The power of the black tide was so immense, so overwhelming, that it would have made any other living creature flee in terror. And she, too, had felt that fear. But she had suppressed it, and in its place was an all-consuming obsession. I've come this far, she thought. I can't turn back now.
She poured her own mana into Athos, desperately trying to keep the last glimmer of light alive.
"Rhodes..."
She whispered his name, the source of her obsession.
She could feel that she was getting closer, closer to the heart of the final battle. The residual divine power, the crazed energy in the air... it was growing thicker, a tangible pressure that was threatening to snuff out her small, flickering light.
When she finally reached the center of that accursed place, the full horror of the black tide was unleashed. It was no longer just waves, but a solid, tangible force, an endless barrage against her shield.
With each blow, the barrier groaned, and a web of cracks began to spread across its surface.
CRACK—!
The sound of shattering glass.
A corner of the barrier, under the relentless assault, finally broke.
And the black mud poured in.
She knew, with a primal certainty, that she could not let it touch her, even though she didn't know the specifics of what had happened to Eirik. But the barrier was too small; she had nowhere to retreat. She could only watch as the deadly darkness rushed towards her.
Is this the end?
And at that very moment—
VMMMM—!!!
A golden light, a light of pure, holy energy, erupted from the depths of the darkness. It was so pure that it ignored the very fabric of space and cleaved a path through the viscous black mud, clearing a space around her. Even the mud that had already breached her barrier was instantly incinerated.
When the blinding light faded, she saw that a straight, clean path had been cut through the black tide. On either side, the mud recoiled, as if from the sun.
The light, the aura... it was so familiar.
In the final battle, against the dark power of the Goddess of Procreation, he had wielded Org and had unleashed a similar attack. And in the end, to kill her once and for all, he had unleashed all of its power, and all the power of faith from the 'Light of Ersten', and had dealt a single, god-slaying blow.
Even the soul of the goddess had been extinguished by it.
And now, she could feel that aura once more.
Her eyes widened in disbelief as she looked down the path to the holy sword that now radiated an aura that repelled all evil.
The Divine Right Sword—Org!
Org, which had been lost with him for thirty years, was now right here, in front of her, and her heart began to pound in her chest. Could he... also be here?
Org also sensed it: the approach of the chosen one, the one who held the authority over life. Its light flared, and for a brief moment, it held back the surging black tide.
Tap, tap, tap.
The sound of footsteps, coming from down the golden path. She looked back, not daring to believe her ears.
A figure slowly emerged.
He was bathed in the golden light of Org, walking towards her, step by step, down the path of light. At first, he was just a silhouette, a figure in a gray cloak, his face hidden by a hood. But she hoped, with all her heart, to see that familiar face.
And as he drew closer, her wish was granted.
The hood was pushed back, and there he was, the same as he had been thirty years ago, as if time had not touched him, except for the slight pallor of his skin.
And he saw her, too.
Across the dust of thirty long years, their eyes met.
There was so much to say, so much to tell. But now was not the time.
He walked to the end of the path, just a few steps away from her, and reached out. He took the hilt of the hovering sword.
VMMMM—!!!
The moment his hand touched it, the full power of Org was unleashed once more.
Thirty years of silence and waiting, now brought to a glorious end.
A pillar of golden light shot into the sky, a holy fire that instantly purified the black mud for a hundred meters in every direction. A new domain, a domain of the same power as the black mud, but holy, now expanded from him, a barrier against the encroaching darkness. It was something Athos could never have done. It had only ever been blessed by a god. It was not like Org, which had been forged with a god's authority. Only Org could truly repel this unholy miasma.
In the center of his golden domain, he stood, sword in hand.
He was so close, he could see the pallor of her face, and the surprise in her eyes.
His hand trembled slightly as he held the sword, its tip pointed to the ground, the golden light of it flowing around him, cleansing him of the divine taint he had accumulated on his journey here.
He held out his other hand to her. "I've kept you waiting, Serie," he said, his voice slow and gentle. "Now... come home with me."
(End of Chapter)
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