The First White Mother's attackers were stunned. Why was an island falling from the skies? Where had it come from?
Suddenly thinking of the First White Mother's words before it descended, a terrible premonition overwhelmed them.
At that moment, Gilpin snorted. "Just a small piece of land not even a thousand kilometers across. It would take just a single slash."
His golden sword vibrated with unhindered brilliance. For such a task, he didn't even believe that his silver sword was needed. He was confident. Just one stroke was enough.
A blinding ray of golden light followed the swing of his sword, shooting up into the skies without hindrance. It seemed for a moment that it would continue, reaching through the clouds and towards the stars. As for the island it would pierce through? Nothing but mere child's play.
However, the reality was cruel to the high elf. Absolutely nothing happened.
