The world burned.
The sky shattered.
The stars bled.
And still —
still —
Arin Veyla stood.
Barely.
Her body was broken.
Her Light Sigil flickered like a dying ember.
The final Radiance had cost her everything —
and it wasn't enough.
Asura still stood.
Silent.
Unmoving.
A god among the ruins.
The Abyssal Genesis Ritual nearing completion —
dark spires clawing at the heavens,
reality trembling beneath his feet.
Arin dropped to her knees, gasping.
Blood soaked her armor.
Her vision blurred.
Her hands trembled.
She wanted to scream.
To curse the gods.
To curse fate.
To curse him.
But she didn't.
Instead, she remembered.
The boy who once dreamed of saving the world.
The boy who cried when no one listened.
The boy she never met —
but somehow always knew.
He was gone now.
Consumed.
Destroyed.
Buried under ashes and silence.
And the world?
The world had abandoned him first.
The world had killed him long before Asura ever drew his first blade.
Tears blurred her vision.
But they did not fall.
She would not cry.
Not now.
Not here.
Not at the end.
Slowly, painfully, she forced herself to stand.
Every bone screamed.
Every nerve burned.
But she stood.
Because if this was her last breath —
She would spend it fighting.
She tightened her broken grip on her ruined sword.
Her voice cracked the silent battlefield:
"Asura…"
"Kai…"
"Whatever you are now —
I don't care.
I don't care if the world deserves to die.
I don't care if we deserve this.
I will fight you.
I will fight you until my heart stops beating.
Until my light goes dark.
Until my soul is nothing but ash."
The wind howled.
The ground shook.
The dark spires screamed toward the heavens.
And still she spoke —
a broken, dying girl facing the king of silence.
"I swear this —
On every child who never got a chance.
On every dream broken by cruelty.
On every tear shed in the dark."
"I swear this —
Even if no one remembers me.
Even if no one mourns me.
Even if my light fades forever."
"I will stand.
I will fight.
I will not kneel."
The words weren't magic.
They weren't a spell.
They were an oath.
A promise carved into the bones of the dying world.
Asura tilted his head slightly.
No anger.
No mockery.
Almost…
Sadness.
But he said nothing.
There was no point.
The abyss roared.
The ritual neared completion.
The end drew closer.
And across the ruins,
across the ash and blood and broken dreams,
Arin raised her sword one last time.
And charged.
Not to win.
Not to survive.
Not even to be remembered.
She charged because in the end,
hope was not a thing you protected.
Hope was a thing you became.
Even if you burned doing it.