It's so painful! So hard! So difficult!

But rather than saying that this is a dream, it would be better to say that I have been living in a dream for the past few decades.

A faint impulse welled up within Hisenia's heart. If it weren't for the desire to care for her blood-related sisters and her own survival, she would have chased the black-armored hero into that place in the next instant.

However, that was merely an unrealistic thought. She held Marenia in one hand, the other folded over her chest. Her brows lowered, her gaze devout, as if she were meditating on something.

"Are you... praying?"

"Ah."

"Oh, what god are you praying to? I've never seen you do this before. When did it start?"

"Today."

She didn't know what she was praying for, maybe she just wanted to do something.

Their tragic fate was ended, but what about her?

-

Today's sunset is unusual.

A wild crimson blanketed the mountains, scattering across the sky and earth. An ominous aura hung in the air, the clouds and light shifting strangely, like a flock of red butterflies fluttering across the sky. It felt oppressive and deeply unpleasant. Yet, perhaps, it was truly poignant and beautiful.

Something is not right with the sea of ​​flowers today.

The little girl, dressed in white, was now moving hurriedly. She looked flustered and impatient, running quickly and clearly in one direction, as if there was something ahead that she wanted to confirm with her own eyes.

Chapter 1027 The Difference Between Poets

However, from her eyes, which have tilted her strong emotions to a certain degree of negativity, yet are still determined, one can sense that this statement may be biased.

It seemed like she had already confirmed something and was being chased.

"Destiny", chasing.

Faster, faster, otherwise it might be too late... she thought to herself.

Perhaps, no matter how fast it goes, it will be too late.

By the time the girl regained consciousness, she had already fallen to the ground. The prophetic scene was vividly imprinted in her vision. She dared not look at the ground, instantly covering her eyelids with her hands. But she quickly lowered them and hurriedly crawled forward. She faced a person—the remnant of a human—whose gentle, yet lifeless gaze was gazing at her side.

That incredibly familiar person was now lying in a pool of blood. The crimson, sticky liquid stained the surrounding flowers, but under the setting sun, it didn't seem too out of place.

The old poet's body, incomplete, or perhaps even fragmented, sank into the sea of ​​flowers. Some parts seemed to have been reduced to minced meat or simply vanished, but because she lay amidst the flowers, it seemed as if those gentle blossoms had preserved the final sparkle and beauty of her life.

It seems that maybe it is not too scary.

"It's a little embarrassing to be seen like this by you. But it's not that embarrassing, is it?"

Her eyes were already blank, and her voice was extremely weak, yet as frivolous and gentle as before. She reluctantly stretched out her relatively intact hand and gently comforted the crying poet.

"Don't cry. From the day I came into this world, I have been mentally prepared to become like this."

"I love all the beauty in the world more than I love myself, just as those who look at me are drawn to me. Dying for it, though a pity... is a good ending. It suits me, and it fulfills my duty as a bard to the very end. A perfect finale."

"What finale? What responsibility? I don't want you to leave me. Why? Who is it..."

The poet finally opened her mouth and uttered the first cry, expressing the most direct emotion in her heart at the moment. The old poet laughed.

"You don't want me to leave so much, are you finally willing to admit that you're fascinated by me? How annoying - it's really troublesome to be pestered by a little girl. So as a reliable adult, I should leave here without saying a word and firmly -"

"It's already this hour and you're still saying this!"

"I just said it, it's just a pity. Maybe it's important to you, but to me, it's nothing."

Facing the poet's hysterical roar, the old poet expressed herself in this way. She seemed to realize that her words were a bit too cruel, so she placed her hand on his back. While soothing him, she said,

"However, since I am a reasonable bard, I can still recite poetry for you even if I am about to die. It just may not be very beautiful. Even if you hear it, you may not laugh, but compared to letting you continue to feel drowsy, even a slight improvement in your mood is worth the cost of the guests' appreciation of the performance."

"So, after all these days with me, have you figured out what you want? Don't tell me, after seeing my miserable state, you still want to be a poet?"

The playful tone, coupled with the slight smile on her lips, made her seem less serious. But as the old poet had said, perhaps for her, her own death wasn't a special moment. But for Latia, it was a real, profound moment.

Her eyes were filled with tears as she continued to stare at the other person, biting her lips tightly. She didn't say a word, but her expression said it all.

"You still can't say it openly even now? You're so stubborn. Luckily, I'm the most reasonable person in the world. Well... but I really don't want you to follow the same path as me."

The old poet sighed pretentiously and continued to stroke the other's soft hair. And Latia said strongly,

"Tell me, what is the duty of a bard? I will pursue that goal and use it as a guide for my whole life—"

"No, I'm not that kind of teacher. You need to figure this out for yourself. If you haven't figured it out after spending so much time with me, then you're too dull to be a poet."

The old poet's tone suddenly became serious. Her lifeless eyes still reflected the beautiful world she loved. She looked at Latia and said,

"And what I can finally give you is nothing more than a curse. I will give you the power to accomplish your goals, and I will give you the means from our Dusk God."

“Remember, follow your heart.”

After saying this, the old poet's tone suddenly became lively again.

"Now, please come closer to me. Make sure I can see your face from the front. I can't really see it clearly anymore, so please be careful... Well, that's about it."

She reached out her trembling hand to Latia, who was beside her, and gently stroked her forehead with it, then closed her eyes. In an instant, countless influences ran through Latia's brain.

The moment she reached the summit, a rainbow of light shone across the ocean, the evening lights of the harbor, dawn breaking over the city... Countless beautiful things flowed through her body. A feeling of rebirth soothed the anger in her heart and wiped away her tears. She felt the old poet's footsteps and personally accepted that beautiful heart.

Then, terror, astonishment, and all the tragic scenes could no longer shake the true beauty in her heart. Her heart was deeply moved, and how could the heart of a living person not be saddened by tragedy? But no matter what, the state of stillness where her heart was focused only allowed her body to breathe and feel waves of freshness.

The evening breeze rustled the poet's hair. She looked at the old poet, whose hand had been lowered at some point, only to see his eyes still fixed on the sky. The natural scene that sang a dirge for her final moments seemed still a part of her love. Even though she could no longer see it clearly, she was probably still observing this world she loved so deeply in her own way.

Chapter 1028 Lonely and Sad

Her eyes slowly closed, and right in front of the poet, like wind and sand, they disappeared in the sound of the sunset wind.

The poet picked up some of the poems the other had left behind after they had dispersed. Now she could clearly read the words, as if they had been recited by her in person. But she also sat down calmly, lighting them alight on the sea of ​​flowers, and burning them away.

She recalled this master, whom she had known for a short time, but who, like all the beautiful things of time, had vanished before her eyes in an instant. She gazed at the burning fire, wondering what she was thinking.

Old poet, no, Master. You let me think for myself, because you don't want me to follow your old path, right? But the truth is, even if you let me think for myself, I would still go down a path of self-destruction.

Even though you may be the God of Dusk, you still care deeply about every world you visit. Your beauty infects people, guiding them to find the truth and beauty they love. You're like those implausible heroes in the fairy tales I used to love reading, only you're more frivolous, casual, and free-spirited.

But you, like them, didn't have a good ending. Heroes often don't have a good ending. When their heroic deeds are over, they are no longer needed by anyone. Even in fairy tales, this is true.

You said that poets should sing the praises of heroes, spread their deeds, and let their greatness be sung. I think that is indeed the case.

However, after witnessing your death, another thought of mine has become even more resolute. I want to see those beautiful, shining, and unreasonable "heroes" have a happy ending. Even if it's just one, let me watch the rising sun set peacefully, rather than suddenly blazing out, plunging into eternal night and being forgotten.

The heroes saved the world, but who will save the heroes?

Perhaps this thought was a bit arrogant. Saving a hero, for a bard, was it a bit too much of a stretch? It did sound absurd.

So, please allow me to use a more humble way, "guidance".

How to do it specifically is up to the heroes to decide. As for me, I just need to do my job well.

The burning flames drifted toward the horizon. When he came to his senses, the poet, already on the verge of death, was gasping for breath as he stared at his arm, which had mostly turned to a mass of rotting flesh.

"What's wrong, poet? Have you been struck dumb by the power of God? I expected you to be more difficult to deal with than those ants, but the fact that you've been able to fight until now has already exceeded my expectations."

The god's voice echoed strangely, and then she burst into laughter.

"But now I must tell you that your ability to barely maintain your resistance is simply a toy! If I truly wanted to kill you, I could do it in an instant. I have long hated people like you. Using fate as a pretext, commanding everyone from a high position, how unpleasant it is."

"Is it fun to suppress everyone with fate? Now I'm being suppressed by the power of God. This feeling of being unable to resist and suffocating. It's rare to see a glimmer of hope, but then I find myself being mocked and despised. How can this feeling be comfortable?!"

"Depressed? Yeah... It's not easy to be at the mercy of fate. But I never wrote the future for you. All I did was prolong the lives of the Dark Knights, who should have been destroyed long ago. This allowed them to do what they wanted, making their lives more fulfilling."

The poet replied tremblingly, her body swaying, looking extremely unstable. After most of her body was severely injured, even she couldn't appear calm and composed. She took a deep breath,

"No matter where we ultimately end up, the journey in between, which is determined by ourselves, is what truly matters. Compared to that, everything I do is merely a foil. As for the word 'high and mighty'..."

"You're talking about yourself."

The poet stood still, her bright red eyes fixed on the other person's body. She leaned forward, pushing her own aura forward along with her words.

"You didn't believe the feelings you'd felt, you denied the journey you'd taken, and ultimately, you pushed yourself to a dead end. Right or wrong, it's not your fault alone that you've created this tragic reality. But you can't escape the word arrogance."

"Lonely and sad god. If you could trust me a little more, trust us a little more, and trust yourself a little more—"

"You still want to use such words to shake me up at this point? Don't dream!"

The poet's words, of course, were not much different from those of the past. Aside from a touch of resolution, there wasn't even a hint of emotion. It was like wisps of starlight, serenely streaming down from the horizon in the stillness of the night.

But how could Xiao Nuo listen to all this now? As soon as she thought about it, the poet's body was pressed to her knees by the huge pressure, making her, who was already having difficulty breathing, fall into an even more serious predicament. She gasped heavily,

"Whether you want to vent your anger on me or do something for your own world, I will never say you're wrong! But look at yourself. You're arbitrarily controlling others with thoughts that you don't even understand. Isn't this what you hate the most?"

"Everything is for the world I carry. I will never waver. People like you are not worthy of criticizing me!"

The god's words collided head-on with the poet's. For the first time, she slowly raised one of her paws, as if to make some movement. The poet, however, coughed up a mouthful of foul blood. She, like the old poet, also held out her relatively intact hand.

However, what she was reaching for was a sword, a blade she carried on her back and never drew.

In an instant, a powerful will freed her body from its restraints. The mysterious feeling that had been lingering around the poet fluttered like a flock of butterflies, gently fluttering and carrying light, love, and a peaceful life outward. The oppressive veil peeled back, revealing the purest, most vibrant colors of the world itself. Even this world, shrouded in the aura of disaster, seemed to gradually become clearer.

Chapter 1029 Nebula Storm

Immediately afterwards, countless shooting stars blazed out from the dim night sky. Like a streak of light, they filled the night sky, beaming their brilliant light to the night's midpoint. They pierced the stillness of the night, soaring from the crimson world, unwaveringly pursuing a direction that belonged to them.

The races struggling against the remnants of the Perfect People, upon witnessing this scene, could not help but sense something. Those countless gleaming lights naturally pointed to a single destination. Atmospheric dust, meteorites, stellar fragments… that fleeting brilliance would eventually fall. Even the miraculous stars would eventually fade away.

But as the old goes, the new comes. Moreover——

Perhaps in the direction they are rushing, there will be a light that never goes out, carrying them on their journey to the end?

The poet's blade struck the god's claws. But the next moment, her body was sent flying. Her entire form seemed to disintegrate, colliding countless times on the ground before finally being buried in the rubble. The blade itself instantly snapped in two. The remaining half of the longsword sat alone in the ground.

"The powers bestowed by the other Dusk Gods, combined with the power of the Meteor Swarm. Are you giving them up just to dethrone me?"

The god's furious voice resounded. Her body trembled violently, the poet's sword leaving a scratch barely more than a graze. But it was this scratch that brought her back to life. She could be hurt, interfered with, killed.

However, amidst this angry echo, a sense of contempt and confusion also emerged.

"But do you think you can stop me like this? Even if I lose my divine power, with only the strength of this body, there are few in this world who can stop me. If you use all your abilities with the premise of self-destruction, and create a hero capable of killing gods, perhaps it is worth a try—"

"Heroes... can't be made, but... I did do all this for her at the cost of self-destruction..."

The poet spoke these words in a halting manner. It seemed as if this was her last breath, yet she smiled even with her broken body.

The rest is up to you. From now on, your destiny is entirely yours to write.

Go, show the world the glorious happy ending. To whom a willful poet like me has entrusted his life...

hero.

Suddenly, the world dimmed. The agitated crimson aura fell silent in an instant. In its place, a deep black hue smeared everything. A heavy, unwavering presence obliterated everything in the world.

Ruined streets, wrecked cities, corpses, crimson winds. All that remained before the gods was infinite darkness. All outlines blurred, leaving only the purest colors in this world.

A pitch-black, heavily armored hand slowly grasped the longsword that stood on the ground. For a moment, pure blackness found a direction worthy of inclination and entrustment. The figure grasping the hilt bore the darkness of the world. And the broken sword, unknowingly, had transformed into a massive heavy sword, as thick and steadfast as black.

The newcomer turned, her black cloak carrying the world's bleak darkness with her as she departed. She revealed the world as it truly was, a world eroded by a crimson calamity. That darkness had already poured into her blade, poured over her body, and flowed into her soul.

Facing the god, she slowly raised her head. She grasped the greatsword in one hand. The aura emanating from her tiny body made the god feel as if he could sense the endless darkness just by looking at her.

The gods naturally knew who was coming.

"I never thought that your will could actually support the weight of the entire world? I underestimated you."

"..."

The visitor didn't answer. Even though the voice was slightly familiar amidst the harshness, it seemed she didn't want to answer, nor did she have the energy to do so. She held her sword and slowly walked forward.

Heavy footsteps, sparks from the giant sword dragging across the ground, and wordless silence. Silence is already the best answer, the most satisfying answer.

"But what can one achieve with willpower alone? Coming here immediately would be a foolish decision. Let me try this newfound power."

"I will borrow this genetic power to summon the catastrophic force that I have witnessed before."

The deity sneered disdainfully. Faced with the other party's silence, she didn't seem to want to communicate further. At this moment, she was still filled with simple disdain for Bai Lin. With a flutter of her wings, the world she controlled immediately became turbulent.

Nebula Storm

A nebula is a celestial body composed of tenuous gas or dust, encompassing almost all extended celestial bodies except planets and comets. Simply put, its composition contains countless solid planets and even stars, formed through a powerful aggregation of mass to create a completely new landscape.

And when a storm arises within this nebula, what kind of violent scene will it be?

A fierce storm swept up. The wind blades, capable of shredding a person, gradually coalesced into more massive masses, forming planets, now-extinguished meteorites. They filled the world, crushing the winds and annihilating them. Under their impact, the Platinum City within this world was reduced to ash in an instant. They became yet another deadly weapon within the hurricane, bearing immense weight and dealing a crushing blow to this world.

A force from outer space attacked the lone figure directly. This devastating blow was destined to be unstoppable. Confronting it head-on was definitely not a wise choice.

Bai Lin's figure was instantly submerged and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Even she would probably be blown away by this powerful storm, suffering continuous attacks in the air and unable to resist.

But as a god, she knew best that Bai Lin had not fallen into such a forbidden area. At this moment, Bai Lin was holding the jagged Shadow Blade in one hand and the giant sword in the other, and half of his body slowly emerged from the storm.