It took a long time for No. 13 to stop her tears.
As if releasing the tears she had held back for hundreds of years, No. 13 cried for a long time, hugging Aslan without saying a word.
For Aslan, who lacked understanding of the situation, it was bewildering, but Aslan wasn’t cruel enough to scold his comrade for crying.
Of course, even if she weren’t a comrade, in this situation, he couldn’t have urged her to stop crying and explain what was going on.
Aslan looked at the vast desert and sky above, where an utterly empty universe floated.
It was a dead universe, devoid of any stars.
Surprisingly, this was something Aslan could accept with indifference.
All the Evil Deities were dead.
Truly all of them were gone; no Evil Deity remained.
At first glance, it seemed like a situation to rejoice about, but it wasn’t entirely joyful.
Because Geladridion had also fallen.
Aslan grimaced as he saw the black crystals visible upon closer inspection of the desert.
They were the remnants of those who were once human.
Suddenly, an unfamiliar term, “Mutually Assured Destruction,” popped into his head.
Though he didn’t know much about it, he could roughly grasp its meaning from what little he’d encountered.
The concept that when both sides possess the capability to destroy each other, they tend to avoid such confrontations.
This future version of Geladridion was showing the result of such a “conflict to be avoided.”
A world where both the Evil Deities and the people of Geladridion were dead, and the world itself had truly perished.
It wasn’t hard to guess, and Aslan had to wear a bitter expression as he looked at No. 13.
She was staring at Aslan with bloodshot eyes.
After stopping her tears, she led Aslan somewhere.
Without any incantation or hand signs, the magic easily transported her and Aslan to another place.
From horizon to horizon, then from the ground to the underworld.
In between, she paused, raising her staff and releasing mana to check the surroundings, indicating that this kind of covert action was familiar to her.
There were hardly any living creatures found during this process.
At most, only the withered remains of humans Aslan had already seen.
There were no traces of Lewena or Lumel, and Aslan honestly felt relieved about that.
With some relief and a few uses of magic, they arrived at a subterranean location.
It was a dwelling created by blending natural caves with artificial ones, using a bit of architectural skill and abundant magical power.
Not very large, neatly maintained but somewhat crude space—it was No. 13’s residence.
Aslan realized there.
Aslan truly understood that he had reached a future where not only had he failed but Geladridion had completely collapsed.
No. 13 was the last survivor of this future.
A modest tea table and a few chairs that looked scavenged.
Chairs carved magically from rock.
Aslan sat down on one of these chairs after No. 13 left silently.
Most of the chairs appeared unused, covered in dust.
How much time had passed?
And how was No. 13 still alive?
Aslan turned his head while she was away and inspected her quarters.
The dust wasn’t just on the chairs.
Even though there was a decent-looking kitchen, it showed no signs of use.
Only dust had settled there.
Elves, who don’t need to eat or drink and are immortal beings unaffected by lifespan, made it impossible to estimate the passage of time by observing No. 13.
Everyone else who required such things must have disappeared.
Still, Aslan could guess that a vast amount of time had passed.
Just as he finished thinking, No. 13 returned.
In one hand, she carried a loaf of bread from somewhere unknown.
“…Did you bring this for me to eat?”
No. 13 opened her mouth to speak but quickly closed it, nodding hesitantly with a flustered look.
It was a puzzling sight, yet instead of asking, Aslan accepted the bread.
The bread was dry and far from edible.
It seemed to exist solely to fill the stomach.
Now that his sense of taste had returned, it was troubling to consume.
But Aslan forced himself to take a bite, and No. 13 sat right next to him.
An unusually close distance.
Even though there were more than ten chairs available to create space, she sat so close that their knees touched.
This proximity raised questions.
Why wasn’t No. 13 speaking?
What happened to the rest of the traveling party that left No. 13 alone?
How did this world come to ruin?
How did Aslan and those failures end up here?
At least one of these questions could be answered.
“Why are you here alone, No. 13?”
The question was asked cautiously, considering the possibility that Aslan might go berserk due to preconceived notions about mages, but No. 13 guided him outside the residence with a sad expression.
Outside the cave divided into sections, there was a space resembling a courtyard, seemingly crafted from a natural cave.
Though technically a graveyard according to Aslan’s guess, it actually had an atmosphere closer to a shrine.
Seeing No. 13’s sorrowful expression, Aslan understood what this shrine-like graveyard implied.
It was the final trace of the traveling party.
Amidst the oppressive atmosphere filling the space, Aslan identified the relics.
Tiamat’s bow, Chimera.
Angie’s torn dragon leather boots.
Ereta’s axe.
Phey’s hair tie and a dress fragment soaked in blood.
Lumel’s twin blades of divinity, broken remnants.
The bracelet Richard often wore around his wrist, and Lewena’s talisman soaked in blood.
Aslan saw all these relics, No. 13’s sad expression, and the flow of time embedded within them.
Thus, he guessed that No. 13 had been alone for a very long time.
Recalling this, Aslan remembered her intense embrace and tears.
It felt as if she wanted to confirm that Aslan was a real existence, not an illusion.
That was exactly how Aslan perceived it.
It wasn’t hard to guess what had happened to this future version of Aslan.
It would be difficult to imagine how this Aslan ended up.
Regardless of the three failures fighting out there, this future was, in short, another failure.
Through this, Aslan realized the unrealistic nature of his own plans.
The bitterness came from the fact that he had failed much more than he had thought.
As Aslan turned to look at No. 13, she gazed up at him with moist eyes and led him onward.
At the end of the cave they reached, something familiar was stuck there.
Once glowing purely white, the sword that had protected Aslan from any powerful attack—its shattered remains.
Purity.
Its broken remnants.
‘So it can break too.’
Aslan bitterly smiled as he looked at the broken remains.
Through this, he realized.
This future version of Aslan was dead.
Unrelated to the three failures fighting out there.
In other words, this future was yet another failure.
Through this, Aslan felt the impracticality of his own plans.
The bitterness stemming from the realization that he had failed far more than he had imagined.
Aslan sighed. Next to him stood No. 13.
She fidgeted, then tentatively stood on tiptoe to place her hand on Aslan’s head, trying to comfort him.
Turning slightly, Aslan saw No. 13 standing on tiptoe, struggling to stroke his head despite the height difference.
Despite the difficulty, she continued to pet him, then met Aslan’s gaze, forcing a smile as she spoke.
“It’s okay.”
Her voice carried mana.
Aslan felt the mana reaching him and realized it was affecting his mind through a form of illusion magic.
He genuinely felt calmer as if by magic.
Through this, Aslan understood why No. 13 hadn’t spoken until now.
Her magic had grown stronger, and her voice had become magic itself.
That’s why she had developed the habit of not speaking.
And because opening her mouth to speak carried significant weight.
Yet, she had spoken and offered comfort for Aslan’s sake.
Looking at No. 13 who endured discomfort and burden solely out of kindness, Aslan smiled gently.
“Thank you.”
Her gloomy expression cleared as if by magic at Aslan’s words.
She tried to say something, then smiled back—a bright smile.
A smile that seemed to express relief at being able to genuinely comfort Aslan.
*
Meanwhile, the roar over the desert continued unabated.
The planet, which had long been silent and peaceful after its destruction, trembled as if unable to endure the roaring sound, and amidst that roar, animosity and murderous intent persisted.
“■■■―!”
The Transcendent One, the Supreme Divinity—or rather, the nonentity who consumed the original Supreme Divinity and usurped its place—opened its mouth, uttering incomprehensible words and shouting.
Changing its stance, gripping the hilt tightly as if squeezing it, it swung the blade.
Accelerating without leaving any residual image, its body dyed in cosmic hues filled the air with a red flame-like sword that roared.
Amidst this, splitting and scattering were darkness and shadows that spread across the entire desert, untouched even by the scattered light.
The shadows clung and dispersed faster than they could cling, while red streaks dozens of meters long decorated the sky.
The rising dust and sand swirled like dragons ascending to the heavens before falling.
Due to this, the battlefield radius of several hundred kilometers was shrouded in sand, making it impossible to see even a foot ahead.
However, the roaring never ceased.
“—!”
Seemingly unwilling to simply endure, the Transcendent One steeped in the abyss gripped a darkly glowing sword in one hand and twisted its body.
The shadow beneath the sword vanished, and the Supreme Divinity’s sword clashed with the Abyssal sword.
Kwa, kawagagagagaga!
The shockwave resonated twice—once from the collision and again from the aftermath.
Sand from the horizon surged up and subsided simultaneously.
The shockwave caused by simultaneous consecutive attacks and shadow reversals colliding was immense.
Even any Evil Deity would find it difficult to trivialize this power, yet within the crater sunk tens of meters deep, the three Transcendents remained composed.
The battle had stagnated.
There was no disparity in resolve, no difference in means, and no distinction in capabilities or tactics—they were completely equal Transcendents originating from the same person.
Moreover, since they concealed secret techniques and possessed equivalent combat experience, there was no decisive victory.
Strategies were read instantly. They were the same humans, after all.
Deceptions were seen through. They conceived the same tricks.
Thus, what ensued was a brutally simple contest of strength.
A transcendent struggle of power that had not waned even after hours of continuous fighting.
To the most rational and intellect-preserving one among the three, the last Captain, it seemed absurdly foolish.
Thus, he sensed the necessity to change the situation.
Although the possibility of striking was slim, his will reacted, and the colony ship-sized satellite responded.
Space immediately split open, and dozens of hexagonal rods poured through the corridor opened in Geladridion’s atmosphere.
Famous on Earth as the God’s Staff and renowned in Geladridion for slaying the God of Fire and Metal, these rods rained down toward the two Transcendents.
Each rod carried enough force to send massive amounts of sand flying when it struck.
Still, they wouldn’t inflict any noticeable damage on the two Transcendents.
Not that it mattered since the purpose wasn’t to attack but to create chaos.
Violence rained like rain, and the already cratered desert spewed sand as if vomiting massive quantities.
Anyone watching would describe it as the desert turning upside down.
Within this chaos, the Captain issued commands to the flagship via his will.
Amidst the enormous smoke screen, he became transparent and simultaneously revealed a disturbance-inducing gas.
Both the disturbance-inducing gas and the Captain emerged from the smoke at the same time.
The moment their presence faded, Aslan, who had consumed the Supreme Divinity and transcended human consciousness, roared.
Roaring, he detached a part of his body and fashioned it into a javelin.
The javelin imbued with cosmic hues was launched toward one of the two retreating figures.
Traveling faster than sound, the javelin tore apart the disturbance-inducing gas, and realizing he had been tricked, the Supreme Divinity chased after the Captain.
“—!”
But the Abyss refused to let him go.
It wasn’t merely because it didn’t want to lose sight of the enemy in front of it.
He was a Transcendent who had lost a companion and chosen a lesser evil, thus harboring deep hatred towards the Supreme Divinity.
Kwajijijik!
Thus, it bit into the Supreme Divinity’s arm, who glanced at the tearing limb as it regenerated and roared in fury.
The Transcendent who had consumed the Supreme Divinity and lost his sanity due to the side effects of transcendence was enraged by the attack directed at him.
The roar filled with anger and the scream laced with hatred intertwined, causing the two Transcendents to swing their weapons at each other.
The clash between the Supreme Divinity that devoured the Veil of Mercy and the Transcendent unleashing the full potential of the Abyss dug the already deep crater even deeper.
Meanwhile, the Captain left the battlefield.
In his view, confronting the two immediately was an utterly futile act.
Rather, killing his past self from another timeline, taking his place, and waiting until the fight concluded, leaving only the exhausted party to deal with, seemed more efficient.
Since getting involved in the fight wouldn’t expedite the resolution anyway.
Merely dealing with the Transcendent wasn’t his sole obligation.
There was reversing failure and saving the world.
Securing a second chance.
Moving his machine body, devoid of any trace of humanity, he headed in the direction where Aslan and No. 13 had disappeared.
