It was quiet.
The pieces of existence slowly put themselves back together, and the Ancient Battlefield returned to its dull and dreary appearance.
It was beautiful.
That scene, where reality itself was pieced together like glass shattering in reverse, where mountains rose and valleys grew, where the sky itself found its place in the world, was beautiful.
However, nobody was there to see it.
There were two figures in the midst of the great restructuring, but neither of them paid it any mind.
It was lonely.
Damien felt the Saint Emperor's body turning colder in his grasp. Unlike other Nox, he didn't liquefy upon death.
The energy of [Heal] kept flowing into his body. Damien was doing everything he could to give the Saint Emperor even one more moment of life.
He already knew.
It was impossible.
"Please," he said, his words reaching no ears but his own, "let's just talk a little more before you go."
