The cursed weight that had suffocated the tower began to dissolve the moment Zavren's life ended. A radiant aura, warm and powerful, emanated from Bahamut. It pulsed outward in waves, illuminating the dark, desolate lands. The once-cursed city surrounding the tower transformed as the aura spread. The ground, once cracked and charred, softened with patches of green grass. The eerie, oppressive sky lightened, revealing soft golden hues. Broken streets remained rubble, but they no longer reeked of death and decay.
From the tower's pinnacle, Jareth stood speechless. The sight before him was a stark contrast to the desolation he had known. For a moment, he glimpsed what Eden had been before the Demon Gods' corruption—a land of serenity and brilliance. He inhaled deeply, the air now free of the stench of blood and brimstone.
Bahamut's deep voice rumbled, pulling Jareth from his awe. "The curse has been lifted, but this is only the beginning. This is but a fraction of Eden's former glory. Much work remains."
Jareth nodded solemnly, his gaze fixed on the horizon, where the cursed lands still loomed, a dark border against the sanctified ground.
"Come, boy. It's time to retrieve the elf girl."
Descending from the tower's rooftop, Bahamut and Jareth returned to the burial site. The soil around the grave was soft and faintly glowing from the holy energy. With precision and care, Jareth unearthed the elf girl's resting place.
They carried her fragile, unconscious body into one of the least-damaged buildings nearby. Hours passed as she lay still, her breathing faint. Jareth sat silently, his thoughts swimming with unanswered questions about the Godgear wearers and their grim fates.
Finally, her eyes fluttered open. A spark of fear and sadness ignited in her gaze as she took in her surroundings. She scrambled to her knees, trembling as she knelt before Jareth.
"Please, O Chosen One of the Mighty Dragon God," she begged, her voice breaking. "Have mercy on me."
Jareth raised a brow, startled by her desperation. "What are you talking about? Calm down."
Tears welled in her eyes. "I had to act as if I was brainwashed… I had no choice. My twin sister is being held hostage in the torture chambers of the Demon Gods. She is also one of the Chosen Godgear wearers."
Jareth's surprise was evident. "Wait, there are others still alive? How many of you are left?"
She hesitated, shame washing over her face. "Not many," she admitted. "We failed because the towers cripple us. Inside, our powers are suppressed, and the traps are endless. If we fight in open ground, we are their equals—perhaps even stronger. But the Demon Gods… they have allied themselves as well. Alone, we were no match for their combined might."
Jareth clenched his fists, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "You mean the Goddess never told me all of this?"
Before the conversation could continue, a soothing, ethereal voice resonated in the air.
"Oh, Mighty Bahamut, and you, my chosen warrior," said the Goddess. "Do not despair. My power is not at its peak, but there is hope. If you find survivors hidden within the dungeons—those who fled when Eden fell—I can reclaim part of my lost strength. With enough power, I can turn back time within this city. The ruins will be restored to their former state, and any follower whose soul remains untouched can be revived."
Jareth's eyes widened. "You can bring them back?"
"Yes," the Goddess replied. "But only if their souls remain intact. This will not be easy, Jareth. The Demon Gods are cunning, and their grip on this world is vast. But with every step you take, Eden's light will shine brighter."
Bahamut's gaze hardened. "We've reclaimed this land, but it's just the first step. Jareth, gather your strength. The fight ahead will only grow more treacherous."
The elf girl looked up at Jareth, her voice soft but determined. "Please… save my sister. Save us all."
Jareth tightened his grip on his sword, his resolve deepening. "I will. No matter what it takes."