“You know I’m a Savior candidate?”
Jenkins and the Titan sat facing each other on the battlefield, silhouetted by the setting sun. Whether sitting or standing, he still had to tilt his head back just to see the Titan's face.
“When I pulled you into my ntal world a mont ago, I noticed the mark of a Savior. It’s a beautiful color. The last ti I saw it, I wasn’t even an adult.”
The Titan seed unaware that Jenkins was a god. Perhaps its own power was insufficient to sense it, or maybe its long slumber had dulled its thoughts... The strange ideas Jenkins had planted in its mind might also be responsible for this sluggishness.
With that said, they fell into a long silence. The scene around them held a powerful allure for both. To the Titan, it was a mory of his past; to Jenkins, it was his first glimpse into the distant Mythological Epoch, an era for which no written records or ancient ruins remained.
The twilight of this doomsday was far more magnificent than any sunset over Nolan. It was the last ti the sun would set on this epoch. Dust from the war billowed in the air, and the pale yellow light of the setting sun cast a glow over the brutal battlefield. The only sound was the distant flapping of tattered banners in the wind, a sound both chillingly real and deeply stirring.
“So, why did you bring into this ntal world?”
After a long while, Jenkins finally asked.
“I didn't expect you to break through my defenses. In my haste, I could only bring your consciousness here. This place will be our dueling ground, Savior. If I win, it will prove that I have broken the shackles of fate and achieved true freedom. But if you defeat ... it will an I was destined to be nothing more than a stepping stone in your quest to save the 18th Epoch. All my millennia of struggle and effort will have been for the sole purpose of being defeated by you...”
The Titan rose to its feet, and Jenkins followed suit. They both stood sideways to the setting sun, their shadows stretching out in opposite directions, forming a wide V. One shadow was imnse, the other minuscule in comparison.
“Savior, we beings of the Mythological Age glimpsed the threads of fate long ago. We believe that from the mont of the world's birth, every event was already written. Yet, we don't believe there is any way to truly see that pre-written destiny. Therefore, the only true fate is the one we forge ourselves. This duel could have been avoided, but fate decreed that we would et. Though millennia separate our eras, we must both fight for our existence... Ah, Savior, this is not just my destiny. It is yours as well.”
“Are all beings from the Mythological Age so long-winded?”
Jenkins mused, realizing the Titan he was conversing with in this ntal world didn't seem fallen or corrupted at all. He seed perfectly lucid, matching Jenkins's idea of what an ancient, wise being should be.
But this was no ti for contemplation. Here, in this world of the mind, power was asured by the strength of one's spirit and soul. Anything was possible through imagination. Reaching into the air, Jenkins drew forth his cane. With a slight shake, it began to grow like a tree, transforming into a scepter.
He tapped the vine-like scepter on the ground, and with a faint tremor of the earth, a giant tree burst from the soil beneath his feet, carrying Jenkins into the air.
The colossal, heavy-rooted trees erupted from the earth, weaving and twisting together. Once they had fully rged and ripped their remaining roots from the soil, Jenkins found himself standing upon the shoulder of a towering tree giant.
“It's been a long ti since I've seen a sight like this. The last ti was during the Forest Creek War with those pointy-ears.”
The Titan was unard. It took two steps back. In the final rays of the setting sun, the two giants stared each other down, then let out a simultaneous roar and charged, their footfalls kicking up clouds of dust as they rushed toward their foe.
And just then, the last glimr of sunlight vanished below the horizon. The age of firelessness began.
(Fini is praying... must not fall asleep...)
Inside the ga room, the atmosphere was tense. Hathaway held Magic Miss's hand, stopping her from proceeding with her next action. In a shadowed area on the floor, a splendid golden ritual circle had already been laid out. This was a god-summoning ritual of Magic Miss's own creation, based on modern god-summoning rites and the ancient chain ability, Angel's Halo.
It had never been tested, and its theoretical basis was deeply flawed. What's more, the urgency of the situation ant many of the required materials were replaced with inferior substitutes. Despite all this, Magic Miss still believed it was worth a try.
“Do you have a better idea?”
She insisted, the withered black flower in her hand poised to fall into the very center of the ritual circle.
“At least Candle Mr's cat is still keeping Corpse Gentleman occupied,” Hathaway pleaded. “We aren't completely without hope. Magic Miss, please don't do this. Once the ritual begins, your death is certain.”
Hathaway continued to plead.
“Candle Mr's cat can keep Corpse Gentleman busy, but do you really think it can stop that ancient Titan? Is the cat more powerful than its master? Skylark Miss, I think you've understood for so ti now that this can't be resolved without the intervention of a divine power. While Candle Mr is still alive, while the final piece of the curse tied to Williams in Ruen has yet to reach Nolan... please, let try. I am willing to make the sacrifice.”
The two won struggled, while the n continued to watch the battle on the tabletop diorama. After Candle Mr leaped back onto the Titan's head, both combatants suddenly froze. If not for the dust still swirling in the diorama, they might have thought it was broken.
Corpse Gentleman said nothing. It seed he had no intention of speaking, at least not until the explorers announced another escape attempt. He didn't even et Mr. White Cat's gaze, but instead stared quietly at the Titan on the hyper-realistic tabletop display. After a long mont, he heaved a deep sigh:
“It's over.”
“What's over?”
“The battle is over.”
Corpse Gentleman said. Perhaps it was just an illusion, but Mr. White Cat thought he could actually detect a hint of emotion in that usually monotonous voice.
The words had barely left Corpse Gentleman's lips when another roar echoed from outside. On the tabletop, the miniatures of the Titan and the Bone Giant changed color in unison. Just as Candle Mr's figure began to move again, the Titan and the Bone Giant transford from tallic figures into stone. Both beca immobile, their forms shifting from living statues to lifeless ones.
It was over. On the rubble-strewn ruins of the hospital, only Candle Mr remained, standing there in silence.
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