Or perhaps, for her, he left the slimmest chance among ten thousand...
Four hundred years later, the torch reignited from the cycle of reincarnation.
The awakenings of the edge of transformation twice over caused an unstoppable resonance, time-spawned, spreading the same hues and traces across the tapestry of Superior, reverberating back.
Such a glimmer, to the Saint lost in the past, was like a lighthouse in the darkest night!
Thus, the burning Soul soared across the abyss.
Blazing like a star, it plummeted toward the past.
In the prolonged silence, White Owl sat stupefied, several times on the verge of speaking, yet halting.
At last, vacantly inquiring, "Did she succeed?"
"I don't know, no one knows."
The Commander slowly shook his head, "What she held was a one-way ticket, wagering everything, even burning her soul completely.
What happened, what she encountered, what she experienced, what she did… whether it was success or failure, no one but her could know."
