Reinhard blinked.
He stood in the forest again, but he realized there were far more people around than Dune and his comrades.
He saw golden spectral figures surrounding him, over fifty Beast Masters wearing armor matching Dune’s style.
They materialized from light itself, their forms solid despite being composed of radiance.
Each one bore weapons, each one stood ready, each one’s expression showed determination mixed with joy at being called.
Commander Dune blinked, his fading form staring at the assembled warriors. Recognition flashed across his face repeatedly as he identified individuals.
Erza stood nearby, her auburn hair braided as it had been in the campfire mory. Voyer beside her, his pale blond hair and scarred cheek unmistakable.
Garius, Thane, Corvin, Mira, Senna, all eight, including him from that original squad, their faces younger than when they’d died but unmistakably them.
His sacrifice squad appeared, the warriors who’d burned lo City to eliminate the beasts, who’d told him to live on and write about them.
Their expressions carried no regret, only satisfaction at being called again.
The warriors who’d followed him to kill the Beast King appeared, elite fighters who’d given everything for that final battle. Their golden forms blazed brighter, power radiating from their spectral bodies.
Then the Golden Warriors, who’d defended the city during the final stand, erged from the light. Their armor showed damage from rembered battles, but their stances remained proud. And finally, Bargest stepped forward with his short black hair, beard, and blue eyes.
Dune stared in a daze, his fading form barely visible before he looked at Reinhard, muttering words that sohow rang. "Does this person have a connection to Hel?"
Reinhard raised a brow, uncertain how to respond, but before he could speak, Dune turned back to the assembled warriors, his expression transforming from confusion to overwhelming gratitude. "Thank you." He whispered softly to Reinhard.
Then his old teammates spoke, voices overlapping with familiar teasing. "Commander of lo City? You? We should have known you’d take on sothing that ridiculous!"
"Look how old you got! Those wrinkles weren’t there when we died!"
"Did you write my best angle? I told you my left side was better!"
Dune’s lips trembled, and he called each na. "Erza... Voyer... Garius... Thane... Corvin... Mira... Senna..."
His Captain Squad chid in. "Did you write stories about us? You better have!"
Another voice: "Of course he did! That was the deal, he’s not allowed to die until he writes everything down!"
Laughter rippled through the golden warriors. Dune trembled, his fading form flickering violently as emotion overwheld magical cohesion.
The warriors from other battles spoke up with jokes, complaints, and affectionate insults that spoke to bonds forged through shared hardship.
They laughed, their voices creating a symphony of rembered camaraderie.
Bargest stepped forward, his smile warm. "See? I told you the new generation will surpass us."
"Bargest..." Dune’s voice broke.
"So tell ," Bargest continued, his expression growing serious. "Did you understand your parents’ sacrifice yet?"
Dune fell silent with his spectral form continuing to deteriorate, arms fading to translucence, legs barely visible, but his voice erged clear. "I did... They did it out of love, out of the desire to preserve a place that I could grow and call my ho..."
Bargest laughed in satisfaction. "Not bad. So you did grow up after all."
Dune grinned despite his right arm having faded completely, leaving only his left, and his leg breaking down. "I will be leaving them in charge of this operation and all of you. It’s only right that the new generation lead and show us an even more dazzling future."
He crossed his arms or attempted to with only one remaining. "So you all aren’t to co back until you’ve helped the future generation defeat the darkness. And if you try, I’ll kick your ass back out."
The warriors erupted in complaints."Those are our lines!"
"You can’t steal what we said to you!"
"That’s not fair!"
Dune laughed even as he gradually faded. "I have the right because I lived longer than you fools and paved the way for future generations! What have you idiots done? All you’ve done is rest. It’s ti to wake up and work, you failures!"
His form continued fading, turning into fading mist. "I will appoint Reinhard as Supre Commander. Don’t embarrass by failing, or what else will I tell your families?"
More complaints, but Reinhard saw grins spreading across every golden face, and he knew they understood.
Dune’s laughter rang out one final ti. "It was good seeing you bastards once more. Now go on, use your light to erase the darkness that keeps trying to suppress our Golden Age, so that it can continue going once more!"
As his form reached the edge of complete to fully vanish, he turned. He stared at Reinhard, Marie, Joseph, Janus, Amiya, Casseo, Veryn, and Honor.
"Thank you for helping us get this far, and for taking up the fight. For fulfilling our dreams and regrets." Dune’s smile softened. "I wish victory for you all and... Farewell."
Then Dune shattered into golden fragnts, countless pieces of light that scattered like stars across the night sky.
The fragnts rushed toward Reinhard, swirling around him in spiral patterns before flowing into his body.
Golden light draped over him like a mantle.
Magic rushed through his veins, not foreign but sohow familiar, as if recognizing sothing dormant within.
A golden cape manifested on his shoulders, an exact replica of Dune’s golden cape with a gold fabric connection.
His eyes blazed gold, light radiating outward to illuminate the forest.
All fifty-plus golden warriors knelt simultaneously, their voices unified in a single declaration that echoed through the Dark Silence.
"Supre Commander!"
The others blinked in unison, their expressions shifting to shock. Marie’s light-gold eyes widened, her mouth falling open slightly.
Joseph’s grip on Arondight loosened slightly, the lance’s tip dipping toward the ground before he caught himself.
Janus stared at the golden cape draped over Reinhard’s shoulders, recognition dawning across his features.
Casseo’s crimson eyes behind his helm blazed brighter, his entire posture straightening. Veryn’s purple slitted pupils dilated, her grimoire’s pages fluttering despite no wind.
Amiya trembled, her hands clutching the map so tightly the parchnt crinkled.
Only Honor remained unmoved, his wyvern helm tilting in what might have been approval.
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