The Sacred Spirit had expended all of its energy. The Skyfox, which was nearing the end of its life, had been injured. And compounded with it burning its life force, it struck out its final strike before its death.
The Desolate race warriors felt terrible about this. Their Sacred Spirit came from the 12 Empyrean Heavens, and it had silently protected the Divine Wilderness for tens of millions of years. Now, it died in battle for the Desolate race.
They were upset over the Sacred Spirit's death, but the battle was still ongoing. They had no time to hold a memorial ceremony for the Sacred Spirit.
The Sacred Spirit's phantom image turned increasingly faint, as it was about to disperse at any moment.
At that moment, even the human warriors felt an explicable sense of sorrow, let alone the Desolate race.
Against a calamity that could destroy the world, all prejudice, and the hatred between the races no longer mattered.
"All of you… "
