When Roman regained consciousness, he was alone. The temple was a ruin, a shattered monument to the epic battle that had taken place. Dust filled the air, and the only sound was the echo of his own ragged breathing.
He was injured, his body wracked with pain. But the pain was a distant concern. His mind was consumed by a single thought: had he defeated Malachi? Or had the dark sorcerer escaped once more?
As he struggled to his feet, he noticed a faint glow emanating from the ruins. Drawn to it, he made his way through the rubble, his injured body pushing him forward. The glow led him to a hidden chamber, untouched by the destruction.
Inside, he found a single artifact, a small, crystalline sphere. It pulsed with an ethereal light, and as he touched it, visions flooded his mind. He saw the birth of the world, the rise and fall of civilizations, and the eternal battle between light and darkness.
Among the visions, he saw himself, a tiny speck in the grand tapestry of time. He saw the Order, their sacrifices, their unwavering courage. And he saw Malachi, a shadow that persisted, a threat that would never truly die.
The sphere revealed a terrible truth: Malachi was not a mere mortal, but a manifestation of pure evil, a force of darkness bound to the world itself. Defeating him was not about killing a man, but about eradicating a concept, a malevolent energy that permeated the universe.
With a heavy heart, Roman realized that his battle was far from over. The Order might be gone, but the fight for the world's soul must continue. He was the last hope, the final stand against the encroaching darkness.
As he emerged from the ruins, a new resolve burned within him. He was no longer just a man; he was a guardian, a protector of the world. And he would not fail.