---

“What the… what is that?”

Mr. Gordon Goodman, who had been frantically moving his hands to respond to the rapidly changing situation, suddenly felt the urge to burst out in anger but suppressed it.

‘What kind of nonsense is this in the middle of all this chaos? This is why I can’t stand spellcasters… That guy is useless too!’

Thinking such prejudiced thoughts that would have made the person in question raise their voice in frustration, Mr. Gordon Goodman dealt with the giant soldiers in front of him and loosened his focus for a moment. Although he had such rude thoughts in his head, he knew that Alexander Dean wasn’t the type to waste time on trivial matters.

As he turned his gaze, Mr. Gordon Goodman saw Alexander Dean staring blankly into the distance with a somewhat vacant expression.

Mr. Gordon Goodman was about to scold him for what he was doing in the middle of a battle, but his lips only moved silently, and no words came out. Before he could speak, Mr. Gordon Goodman himself froze, wearing a similar expression to Alexander Dean.

This state wasn’t limited to Alexander Dean and Mr. Gordon Goodman. Hildegard, Esiocles, and the dungeon entry troops who had entered through the Beanstalk were also the same. This was because they had all witnessed a shocking sight that left them no choice but to react this way.

“My God…”

“Good heavens…”

What appeared before their eyes was a sudden, overwhelming sight that filled their entire vision, swallowing even the madness of the battlefield. A massive black cloud, dark and ominous yet not chaotic or impure, surged from outside the city, engulfing it like a tidal wave.

The black flow, like a tide swallowing an island, swirled violently and consumed the city.

Sophia also witnessed this scene. Having just torn through the secret realm of the Secret King, Crow Dragon Haegis, and now floating in the air, she heard the faint whisper of Spirit Lucas-Kukunis in her ear.

{It’s the end. It seems that little spear-wielding brat has fulfilled his duty.}

“Oh, so this is the end?”

Sophia showed interest at the unexpected word. She had heard about the Golden Age, the Silver Age, and the Bronze Age, and how each era ended and the next began, but she didn’t know exactly how the destruction unfolded.

The phenomenon known as the end or apocalypse. How does an era truly end, and what rises from its ashes? As a being living in the present, it’s impossible not to be curious. Sophia was no exception.

Noticing this, Lucas-Kukunis responded.

{Ah. To be precise, this is the form of the Bronze Age’s end. I don’t know about the end of the era before us. I was a pirate, not a dungeon-exploring adventurer.}

“I see.”

Then, if it were a Spirit from the Silver Age or a Spirit adventurer from the Bronze Age, they might have witnessed or experienced the end of the previous era. Sophia suddenly thought of Conra’s contracted Spirit, Esras-Hermes.

But thinking about it, Esras-Hermes, before becoming Conra’s contracted Spirit, had been integrated into a ruin for who knows how long, unaware of the passage of time—at least in Sophia’s eyes. Could he have truly witnessed the end of the Bronze Age, let alone the Silver Age?

Sophia, feeling a bit skeptical, decided not to ask her disciple’s contracted Spirit anything.

{Is this really the end I never saw?}

Suddenly, another voice chimed in. Sophia turned to see the Chicken Head Dragon, its transcendent glow completely faded, lying weakly on the ground of the floating realm.

Sophia asked, “You never saw it? You mean you didn’t witness the end with your own eyes?”

{Embarrassingly, yes. I didn’t regain my senses quickly enough back then. According to the memories of the land I read, it seems I rampaged mindlessly until the very end. This time, I’m lucky to witness it with a clear mind. Even if it’s just an illusion projected by the dungeon.}

The Chicken Head Dragon’s bitter muttering. Sophia silently listened to the ancient dragon’s words while watching the black currents of the apocalypse begin to engulf the city. Her pupils, observing the end of the Bronze Age, had already taken on a sapphire hue.

Whether anyone listened or not, the Chicken Head Dragon didn’t care. It wasn’t like he was expecting anyone to listen. His words were just a venting of his bitter and complicated feelings.

Thus, in front of Hildegard, Esiocles, Alexander Dean, Mr. Gordon Goodman, and the dungeon entry troops they led, as well as Sophia who had brought down the Crow Dragon, the end of a world unfolded.

The last artifact’s seal was released, and the aura surrounding the tower dissipated. The power that had protected the giants’ city vanished, and the primordial laws that had flowed outside began to press into the land that had resisted them until the end.

Those who witnessed this soon saw the changes brought by the end.

“Branch Manager! They’ve started fighting each other!”

Even without the young adventurer’s shout, Mr. Gordon Goodman, the branch manager of the adventurer’s guild, was already watching the scene with a furrowed brow. It was a fierce struggle, devoid of both rational thought and animalistic survival instincts.

This was the final form of the giants swallowed by the end. They had lost all reason and instinct, becoming nothing more than slaughtering beasts, killing each other endlessly.

The giant soldiers swallowed by the end had all abandoned their bonds and camaraderie, turning their swords against each other.

One strange thing was that, despite their bloody battles, they never turned their swords toward the dungeon entry troops. It was as if they didn’t even recognize the presence of anyone else. The present-day humans who had entered the dungeon could only watch in stunned silence.

Strangely, the apocalypse sweeping the city had no effect on the present-day humans. The giants, upon touching the end, lost their minds and turned on each other, but the present-day humans remained unaffected, as if the flow of the apocalypse was nothing more than an illusion.

Soon, another change occurred in the city swallowed by the end.

The dead began to appear among the giants who were bleeding and swinging their swords at each other. These beings of the afterlife soon turned their swords against the still-living giants.

Regardless of whether they had died long ago or just moments before, or even if they were still alive, they all turned their fighting spirit and killing intent toward each other. It was a struggle of all against all, devoid of any distinction between life and death, friend and foe. The people of Plymouth watched this chaotic scene with horrified eyes.

By this point, some began to guess that what they were witnessing was the form of the Bronze Age’s destruction.

Just then.

Suddenly, people realized that the air around them had changed.

Unlike the majestic yet ominous, dark but not chaotic flow of the apocalypse, a refreshing, holy, and hopeful breeze swept through. Like the light of a messenger star flying in the darkest moment, the precursor of a pale dawn.

Unknowingly, people’s attention turned to one place. There, at the center of the tower, the top of the tower was located. The light was emanating from there.

The purest, most fleeting light was converging there.

“It’s beautiful…”

Whose words were they? Someone had unknowingly blurted out, but no one responded. They couldn’t. Too much was happening before their eyes. Even to them, the light gathering at the top of the tower seemed both pitiful and… holy.

Sometimes like gathering fireflies, sometimes like sparks, or starlight, the convergence of light stopped after what felt like the time it takes to drink a cup of tea.

The eternal convergence of light had stopped, but people still couldn’t take their eyes off the top of the tower. Though it seemed like nothing was happening, they somehow knew that this silence was the calm before something was about to happen.

The wait was brief. Soon, a beam of light shot out from the top of the tower. The beam, like a tidal wave swallowing an island, cut through the black torrent sweeping the city and split the apocalypse in two.

It was only natural for the onlookers’ gaze to follow the beam as it cut through the end. Suddenly, a pure white light seeped through the gap. The white light grew in intensity, spreading across the darkened sky of the city.

Soon, the entire vision of all the present-day humans in the dungeon was filled with a blinding radiance. People closed their eyes, even though the light didn’t hurt them. When they opened their eyes again, the black apocalypse and the blinding light were gone.

“Wait, where are we?”

Someone muttered in a dazed tone, looking around.

It was understandable. When they opened their eyes, they were standing in the very place they had gathered before entering the dungeon—the Plymouth square under the Beanstalk.

 

---