Underground hall.
The oil lamps on the walls had been knocked over in droves during the preceding chase, spilling pitch-black kerosene all over the ground. Embers crawled along the oily surface, slowly burning and gradually spreading outward.
As the fire was about to rise, Angel headed for the exit.
Standing at the doorway, he looked back at the hall.
Now, the underground hall was empty. Even the statue of the Cruel Scholar had been reduced to dust. With this fire, the pinnacle inscriptions that had once been left behind were reduced to ashes.
This was the source of Lassudral's age-old existence; likewise, it was the terminus of Lassudral's destruction.
All things would eventually pass away.
And this was only the beginning.
Angel's mind was filled with myriad thoughts, but in the end, he merely let out a soft sigh, then turned and walked up the spiraling staircase.
...
Faint footsteps echoed through the deep, silent corridor.
