When the plot-skips players into the game world

After Aleister's body shattered, her consciousness neither dissolved into the void nor left her form to become a wandering soul.

She only felt the world before her eyes so dim... like the final moments of twilight, a solitary candle flickering in a dark room.

The entire world held only one source of light.

And that was the "angel" before her.

She extracted and refined her life essence, letting it merge into the angel's body.

In that instant, Aleister's entire consciousness shook violently—

"Letting more people survive, that is the best choice... isn't it?"

The voice of the Serpent Celestial Marshal echoed as if in a hallucination.

"The Nurturing Skill is merely a bridge; it is not the end goal."

"You have not truly understood what it means to become a Pillar God. That is the living pillar of this world."

"I want to go home—I have a way to return. I've already found the Path back home."

"Drink, drink... feast upon my blood, unpraised and unsung!"

The fractured memories of both began to merge rapidly amidst the violent upheaval of their spirits.

Aleister quickly comprehended what had occurred.

And the soul of the one curled up like an infant or a beast—Aiwass—gradually unfolded in its confusion, receiving fragments of Aleister's memories.

At that moment, the angel outside suddenly froze in its movements.

It hovered in mid-air, motionless.

Beneath the blindfold covering its eyes, once filled with divinity, void, and cold indifference, there now lingered a bewildered and incredulous shock. Beneath that astonishment and sorrow, a glimmer of humanity shone through.

Just then, the blindfold flared with multicolored runes. A seal manifested upon it.

The four elemental hues upon its back lit up simultaneously, and crackling electrical light danced across the surface of the blindfold.

Aiwass and Aleister were two-in-one, one entity with two faces. And their separation had not even lasted half a year—the "wound" upon their souls had yet to scab over and heal.

When Aleister offered herself, the fragmented part of Aiwass's soul returned to him.

Yet Aiwass felt no joy or fulfillment at all.

He could only feel terror as the synchronized or hidden memories were gradually transmitted and completed, as the brokenness of his soul was mended.

The completion of Aiwass signified the dissolution of Aleister.

Meanwhile, in the external world, the angel let out a mournful and drawn-out wail, grasping its sturdy blindfold with its hands, struggling violently.

Laro, the last surviving Ascendant, supported himself on the broken railing and slowly stood up.

"...My eyes have thrice been gouged out by the agony of farewell, and my tongue can no longer sing joyful songs."

He looked upon the angel, and whether or not it was the sorrowful verse of a prophecy, the words streamed from between his teeth as though alive, writhing like black tendrils: "My ears cannot bear the nightingale's blood-cry; the shrieking little bird was crushed and made into pudding...

"I am an old eagle without a grave; my teeth have fallen, and my talons are broken—I have only the fall left."

The jester spread his arms wide, shouting loudly at the angel who covered its eyes.

"I cannot become a banner, nor sneak into a crest;

"Grant me the final act—or place me in a barrel and brew me into blood-wine!"

Fate is cruelly ironic.

The ones far stronger than him, the ones he wanted to protect, the ones who must live on no matter what—

—They all died.

And he did nothing.

He was merely a homeless old dog, basking under the sun.

—And the one who survived in the end was someone who had long ceased to wish for life.

How could he carry the deaths of all these people and move forward?

But the angel was merely curling up its body, arching its back like a cat, gripping the blindfold sealing its eyes with all its might. It roared, a roar increasingly filled with fury.

Finally, it tore the blindfold apart with ferocious force!

Along with its eyes, its visage was reduced to a mess of mangled flesh and blood, hideous and horrifying.

Thick streams of blood ran from its ravaged eye sockets down to its chin, and the rune array behind it disintegrated in an elegant cascade, returning to a crimson-purple halo.

Immediately thereafter, the angel let out a furious roar and ripped apart the four white wings on its back.

As the white wings left its body, they unraveled into countless intertwined small snakes—that was their true form.

It grasped the radiant, tendril-like strands of its hair and tore them out together. Deprived of the filter of light, once removed, they also transformed back into white serpents, slipping through its fingers and plunging to the ground.

It was as if the sky rained snakes. Or perhaps it rained blood.

Yet, even with four wings removed, the angel did not fall.

Like the ancient Winged Ones, their flight was unlike that of the modern Avianfolk, who relied on flapping their wings—"wings" symbolized their dominion over the sky, just as those who nurse do not solely feed their offspring with milk.

At that moment, Laro's eyes suddenly widened.

As a Transcendent of the Path of Beauty, his intuition and inspiration were extraordinarily keen.

He was struck by a strange vision—

Beside the anguished angel, a black-haired young girl suddenly appeared.

She embraced the angel from behind and whispered something into his ear.

Under the gaze of the sole surviving witness, the angel's agitation rapidly subsided.

His hair, as it regrew, shimmered like golden threads, radiant as sunlight. However, it no longer moved like tendrils but hung simply, like the hair of a mortal.

Finally, he reached out and grabbed the crimson-purple halo behind him.

—Could that even be grasped?

This thought surfaced in Laro's mind.

The next moment, the angel flung it outward like a discus.

Surprisingly, it did not shatter into serpents like the other fragments, nor did it fall to the ground.

Instead, it soared skyward, expanding all the while. A force that seemed to ripple through space began to take form.

The angel's features, hands, and feet grew entirely distinct, as all the light retracted into his body, transforming him into what seemed to be an ordinary human.

From his back, six immense wings burst forth—

Red, blue, yellow, green, white, black. Among them, the red, black, and green wings were even larger than the others.

He extended his right index finger, pointing toward the heavens.

Within the crimson-purple sky, a reverse-flowing vortex formed, creating a ring of golden radiance.

In the next moment, the radiant golden light transformed into countless sharp blades, cleaving the halo in two!

In that instant, the entire world gradually came to a standstill.

The Eighth Question was thus born:

[Are you content with this future?]

There were three answers:

[—This suffices.]

[—It can be better.]

[—No looking back.]

The metallic shell of the three doors beyond was crumbling, with only a few steel fragments remaining. All else had turned into dark golden amber.

Without hesitation, Aiwass pushed open the third Amber Gate.

He would never look back.

At that moment, the entire world transformed into light.

The entire world was stripped away and congealed into a complete painting.

High above the distant sky, the angel, with one hand pointing heavenward, wore a countenance both majestic and wrathful.

Faintly, a translucent spiritual body could be seen coiled around him, clinging to his shoulder.

Behind him, six enormous wings shimmered brilliantly, far larger than his physical form. In the center of the crimson-purple sky, there was a glittering golden radiance that sank inward. It not only spiraled upward toward higher realms but also spilled golden light outward, incessantly merging with and transforming the surrounding crimson-purple sky.

Like the dazzling gold of sunrise eclipsing the hues of twilight.

Looking up from the ground, mortals who raised their heads could see countless snakes of various colors descending from the heavens, like an unending storm.

That light condensed into a Light Sword that cleaved through the heavens and the earth, splitting the dusk-like, crimson-purple halo gathered in the sky into two. The halo broke apart!

[As the Sun must set, fate will always find its end. Every meeting must part, yet after parting, reunion is possible. Beneath the grand Sun, freedom is impossible. Yet, should the starlight shine bright enough, it may cleave the heavens before dawn. And only afterward will you know where that new Path leads.]

[—Completed, "Goodbye."]

In Aiwass's ear, this soft, youthful yet solemn voice resounded.

At last, the entire fictitious world fulfilled its purpose and shattered in an instant.