The hall of the Holy Palace was buried in silence.
No sound of footsteps was heard, no sound of breathing, not even a whisper from among the people standing around the massive heavenly array. Only the weak, flickering light of the sacred runes turned on and off every few seconds on the golden walls of the hall, as if the array itself had not yet recovered from what it had seen.
The image of the battlefield still floated before them, but that place no longer resembled a battlefield.
The desolate ruin... was destroyed. Mountains that had stood for thousands of years no longer existed. The ground had split apart, and the deep layers of the world were visible like open wounds. The sky still had cracks, and behind those fissures, the absolute darkness of the void rippled quietly.
And in the middle of that hell, Daniel stood, calm and motionless like a being that remained untouched even after the apocalypse.
No one spoke, not even the Holy Emperor.
