Watching Shir's predicament, God Raashim sighed.
It was a slow, bitter sound.
Then, he chuckled. Not with amusement, but with defeat.
He came to realize that Shir or his subordinates wouldn't be able to make it in time.
Everything was hopeless.
God Raashim could have still called upon his followers for help directly.
However, most of the Templars had already been sacrificed. The remaining followers were low-level mana practitioners, powerless in this battle.
The sacrificial ritual was a mistake. Especially when Eren had let them perform the sacrificial ritual willingly without offering any real resistance.
In retrospect, it was like axing the very branch one was sitting on. But hindsight is always 20/20—so it didn't matter now.
Raashim's struggles ceased. His muscles relaxed. His divine presence faded.
His skin dulled. His eyes dimmed. His Spirit Body turned completely mortal.
And then… he stopped breathing.
