The figure emerging from the fiercely burning Sacred Flame gradually became clearer.
Like docile silk, the flames parted respectfully, clearing a path for her.
The light outlined her slender yet regal figure. Her waist-length hair, woven from pure flame, danced autonomously, its tips flickering with golden-red sparks.
Her fair skin glowed with a warm, jade-like radiance. As her eyes slowly opened, they revealed irises like molten gold—deep, warm, and brimming with an indescribable compassion and boundless power.
When her face was fully revealed to the assembled crowd—
Time seemed to freeze.
The entire Stadium of the Sacred Flame fell into a deathly silence, broken only by the crackling of the flames and the countless breaths that abruptly halted.
Mavuika, standing on the high platform, leaned forward sharply, her pupils constricting to pinpricks. All her former authority, shock, and bewilderment dissolved into pure, incredulous horror.
"...Ishkab?! How is this possible... You..."
In the crowd below, a figure jolted as if struck by lightning.
It was Kinich.
His body, previously slumped with exhaustion and grief, instantly straightened to ramrod stiffness.
The unhealed scratches on his face mingled with tear tracks, making him look utterly disheveled.
His eyes widened to their limit, and his mouth hung slightly open, but no sound escaped. Only heavy, bellows-like gasps rasped from his throat.
Without warning, tears surged forth again like a burst dam, streaming down his rigid cheeks.
These weren't tears of sorrow, but a flood of extreme shock, disbelief, and a delirious joy on the verge of collapse.
"Sis... Sister...?"
A broken, trembling whisper finally forced its way from his throat, as faint as a dream.
He stumbled forward instinctively, as if wanting to rush up and confirm, yet afraid this was merely a fragile phantom that would shatter at the slightest touch.
Lumine froze completely.
Astonishment, surprise, joy!
And an indescribable, complex emotion flooded her heart.
She never imagined that Natlan's final hope would return in such an utterly beyond-imagination way.
Every Natlanian who recognized Ishkab's face, whether warrior or civilian, froze in equal shock and bewilderment.
Ishkab... the Ishkab who had vanished long ago, the Ishkab who had been presumed lost beyond recovery...
Natlan's Pure Soul...
She actually emerged from the Sacred Flame?!
Angie stared intently at Ishkab on the high platform. A resonance deep within their souls locked their gazes together.
For no apparent reason, Angie suddenly glimpsed Ishkab's plan in her eyes...
A tremor ran through Angie's body. A warm, large hand gently settled on her head. Angie looked up to see her brother, Tartaglia.
Besides her brother, there were also The Captain, The Damselette, The Knave, The Marionette, and La Signora—all people Angie was close to.
Originally, La Signora and Angie hadn't been on good terms, but that was in the past.
Now, in La Signora's eyes, Angie was practically like a younger sister. First, Angie had saved her life, and later, La Signora had been invited to Angie's home as a guest, leading to collaborations and playful bickering.
"What's wrong?" The Captain asked.
Angie shook her head, her gaze returning to Ishkab.
She had a premonition that if her intuition was correct, what was about to unfold would defy everyone's expectations.
Ishkab... she had actually managed to reach this stage...
-
On the high platform, under the gaze of countless shocked eyes, Ishkab slowly lifted her gaze. Her beautiful eyes, gentle yet piercing, swept across the arena, first meeting Angie's gaze, then settling on the tear-streaked face of the young warrior who stood trembling, barely able to remain upright.
A faint smile, filled with warmth, deep affection, and profound remorse, slowly bloomed on her lips.
Behind her, the Sacred Flame roared, as if offering its grandest tribute to her return.
Ishkab nodded to Kinich, then turned to Mavuika, who stood closest to her.
"Mavuika... I apologize for leaving without a word."
Ishkab's voice, gentle yet clear, carried a soothing power that resonated throughout the silent arena, brimming with sincere remorse.
"At the very moment when we needed to stand shoulder to shoulder to defend Natlan against the Abyss, I failed to stand with you. This regret and shame will forever be etched in my heart."
Mavuika snapped out of her dazed shock. She looked at her friend, who had emerged from the Sacred Flame, and shook her head. "Ishkab... your return is all that matters. It's far more important than any explanation."
Mavuika was truly moved. With Ishkab's return, their plan could proceed, and the Traveler's plan could finally be completed.
Ishkab nodded slightly, her gaze sweeping over the countless eyes fixed on her from below—eyes brimming with sorrow and anticipation, over the wounded warriors and the grieving populace who had lost loved ones.
Her expression grew more resolute, and her voice rose slightly, carrying an unwavering determination:
"Precisely because I have witnessed too much sacrifice and pain, precisely because I have felt the heavy grief weighing down this land... I have found what we must do."
She paused, letting her words sink into everyone's hearts.
"I will revive the ancient Ode of Resurrection."
This declaration caused a low murmur of agitation to ripple through the crowd.
Many young warriors looked puzzled, while some elder tribal leaders and scholars widened their eyes as if they had just heard an unbelievable legend.
Ishkab continued to explain, her tone calm yet imbued with immense power:
"This is not a prayer for the departed, but a guiding passage."
She turned to Mavuika, their eyes meeting in a silent exchange of unspoken understanding and a plea. Her voice softened to a whisper, audible only to Mavuika:
"Mavuika, I need your help. Please organize everyone—warriors and civilians alike, from every tribe... Ask them to recite the Ode of Resurrection together."
"Ode of Resurrection, Ishkab, you..." Mavuika had already guessed Ishkab's intentions. Her breathing quickened, a mixture of confusion and profound shock flooding her senses.
Ishkab made a shushing gesture and fell silent.
Mavuika stared at Ishkab, slowly processing everything she had just heard. She turned her head and gazed down at the assembled crowd.
"Prepare the Ode of Resurrection!"
Boom—
The moment the command was issued, the crowded masses below erupted into a frenzy.
Ode of Resurrection!
Could the Pyro Archon herself...?
Those who had lost loved ones struggled to stand upright. Once they were certain they hadn't misheard, a flicker of hope ignited in their eyes.
Mavuika: "Everyone, prepare yourselves! We begin in ten minutes!"
The Natlanians rose to their feet, straightening their tattered robes. Their expressions transformed into solemn reverence.
A solemn and reverent atmosphere rapidly replaced the earlier clamor. Everyone held their breath, focusing intently as they awaited further instructions.