Chapter 31: The Final Choice (Part 2)
And so—a torrent of information, like a mountain collapsing and a sea overturning, surged forth. Countless fragmented yet burning-hot memory scenes flashed before the warrior’s eyes.
These were the memories of a Saint.
In the beginning, all was void, darkness covered the deep, and in the nothingness, the spirit of the Saint walked upon the chaos. Joshua’s consciousness followed the Saint’s spirit, exploring through the haze.
The chaos was endless, yet starlight shone, cleaving a path forward and sheltering one hundred and three thousand ancestral tribesmen. After an unknowable span of time, the darkness dissipated, and the Saint finally found her goal: a world that had only just been born.
The Saint had journeyed for a long time without rest. She pressed her hand against the chest of her own robe, then removed it. Runes surged forth from the robe like an ocean overturning, forming a net vast enough to cover the entire world. This net, composed of an incalculable number of sacred runes, radiated a light that illuminated everything. It spurred the world’s birth, causing continents, mountains, seas, sun, and moon to take shape within seven days. And so it was done.
Joshua felt the Saint’s spirit was utterly exhausted, yet also filled with joy. A world taking form in one’s own hands was naturally a cause for joy. He vaguely heard the Saint’s murmured words—a prayer blessing the future of all living beings.
Among the fragmented memory shards, the warrior saw the Saint’s subsequent actions. To stabilize the entire continent and prevent frequent earthquakes, she planted something like a plant seed at the center of the continent later named Grandia. The seed quickly took root, sprouted, and grew into a figure the warrior recognized.
The juvenile form of the Mountain Titan, Urbandeni, slumbered and grew at the continent’s center. Its lower body, driven by the Saint’s power, formed the foundation of the entire continent, making this hastily born world incredibly stable and firm. While planting the Titan, the Saint found a shepherd boy on the surrounding plains. Perhaps it was fate, or some kind of coincidence. The Saint smiled as she watched this somewhat clumsy boy learn her legacy, eventually becoming her student. She called him Akhar—the name of the emperor who unified the entire continent.
Also, the name of the old knight.
Time flew by, as if everything were but a dream.
A thousand years later, the Emperor of the Ulan Empire and his six Archmage Marshals stood in the central plaza of their capital. On this plaza stood seven platforms, each bearing a coffin or some ancient weapons and armor. All the city’s inhabitants stood in various positions according to a special sequence, forming a massive formation. As the Resurrection Incantation, gathering the power of a million people, was chanted, and countless soul imprints converged, ancient heroes one by one awakened from the river of history.
All images ended with the awakening of the figure in the most luxurious and ancient coffin. Countless starlike points of light converged, causing the ancient emperor to open his eyes.
Then, the cold mist of darkness and death shrouded everything.
Joshua watched all of this. Neither the sudden darkness nor the icy breath of death surprised him in the slightest.
Because he already knew the truth of everything.
“The Sage…”
Taking a deep breath, the warrior looked at the hazy orb of light in his hand, his gaze complex.
He understood. All doubts and unknowns were resolved in the memory fragments left by the Star Saint. The dragon-winged girl’s resistant attitude, Alman’s relief at death, and the truth carried in the heart of the old knight—Akhar Aliyev—he now knew everything.
The war with the Evil Gods—the betrayers—the sinners—the Sage’s punishment—the Star Saint’s plea—and the final judgment.
One hundred and three thousand sinners were exiled to this newborn world, imprisoned here, unable to escape whether in life or death. Due to the unique Steel Force of the Grandia World, for a thousand years, the souls of all beings had turned into imprints. Countless souls, like ripe grain, hung between heaven and earth, awaiting the final judgment.
The Sage’s wrath had never been extinguished; his punishment was merely delayed by a millennium. At the end of everything, when the Calamity of the Dead concluded, all things would return to void and chaos. Only the one hundred and three thousand who fought most bravely to the end would receive forgiveness. The remaining souls, along with the destruction of a world, would become the First Flame of the primordial era, used to sustain the long-dead Mycroft Continent.
What a meticulous plan. Worthy of the Sage.
Holding this orb of light, which was gradually heating up as if about to ignite, Joshua felt as if someone was whispering in his ear.
Choose.
Choose.
The destruction of one world, the rebirth of an age. Billions of souls held in your hand. You are the one who holds the fate of two worlds.
This was not an auditory hallucination; someone was indeed speaking. The warrior looked up. The hazy shadow of the Star Saint stood before him. In the silent, dark chaos, the phantom of Saint Cynthia Morningstar smiled faintly at him and said in a calm tone: “Collecting the souls and First Flame of this world to allow the Mycroft Continent to continue—that is my mission.”
“Successor of the Sage after a thousand years, my companion.”
The elf, who was one with this world, spoke softly, her voice filled with compassion: “If you cannot choose, then let me do it.”
“It was I who begged my teacher to lead them to this world. It was I who let them multiply and create the civilization of the Grandia Continent. So, if you cannot decide, let me also grant them their end, let all things return to nothingness.”
Far away, on the Mycroft Continent, the old Pope Eagle of the Far Sea Holy Mountain and the dragon-winged girl Xilia both raised their heads simultaneously. The scepter, robe, and orb all blazed with light, illuminating the entire Star Temple, but they seemed not to see it, their gazes fixed on the void beyond the world. In the Imperial Capital of the Northern Empire, the blonde swordsman bearing twin swords instinctively gripped his hilts. He felt his familiar blades begin to heat up, as if some existence far away was resonating with them.
At the same time, a massive phantom of a formation suddenly appeared over the entire Grandia World. A holy light flickered for an instant, as if about to swallow the whole world, but then it immediately stopped, as if time had frozen at that moment.
And time had indeed frozen.
The entire world was shrouded in darkness.
In the silent stillness, the orb of light held in Joshua’s hand began to burn quietly.
In the Four Holy Cities, warriors fighting endless undead suddenly found their enemies turning to ash in an instant, vanishing without a trace. But none of them, including the four city lords, had time to marvel, because the next moment, frozen time halted everything in that scene.
At the continent’s center, the great Titan moved its head. As a demigod, the giant could hold out for one more second, but that second only allowed it to let out a sigh.
On the Geltar Plateau, within the capital shrouded in darkness, only within the range illuminated by the small flame held in the warrior’s hand could the wind continue to blow, sound continue to travel, and time continue to flow.
The flame burned, meaning the First Flame of the entire world had gathered here. This also meant that time outside had stopped. Because the light of existence had vanished, all things collapsed into the unobservable void, letting unknown chaos rule everything.
At that moment, Joshua spoke.
“No need,” he said. “Let me do it.”
Looking at the somewhat puzzled elven woman before him—a hero who had paid countless costs in the war against the Evil Gods and ultimately achieved victory—a smile appeared on the warrior’s stern face. Though stiff from lack of practice, it was utterly sincere. Joshua said softly: “You are a hero, one who saved the entire world. One hundred and three thousand sinners survived because of your plea, even giving rise to a civilization.”
“You are the creator of this world,” he said calmly. “You should enjoy all glory and praise. Why must you personally erase your own brilliance after death?”
“Let me, the living, do it.”
The elven phantom paused slightly. She seemed a bit surprised, and also a bit relieved, but she still shook her head and questioned: “Can you bear that burden?”
And the man who knew the future of this world replied without hesitation: “Besides me, who in this world can bear it?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, the warrior, Joshua, tightly gripped the flame in his hand. The phantom of the elven Saint smiled and dissipated like a dream.
The firelight was warm, as if nurturing everything.
Unrelated to pity or indifference, unrelated to sorrow or despair, the light of existence was so pure. The warrior held it, as if holding all living beings. Bathed in this warm light, he seemed to become something far greater.
Holding the First Flame, Joshua saw.
Before his eyes was the foundational earth that formed this world.
Before his eyes were the sand and dust that formed this earth.
Before his eyes were even smaller, more fundamental existences.
Dead darkness spread—that was the origin force that formed all things in this world. The polluted ‘Steel’ wailed in the most microscopic corners.
Dim light flickered—that was the energy vein running through the entire world. The souls of all the dead flowed endlessly along this life-current within these veins, until the final end.
The warrior saw. The world called Grandia was extinguishing, like a bonfire losing its fuel, a furnace losing its coal. The boundary of light and dark, the line between death and life, the threshold of cold and warmth—everything fell into ambiguous chaos, into the nonexistent void.
The fire went out, yet it reignited.
The warrior witnessed all this. The flame’s light flickered in his hand, warm and gentle, as if it could illuminate the dead silence of all beings.
Joshua took a deep breath. He raised the seemingly weak flame in his hand, raising it towards the profound darkness. His arm, which could easily lift mountains, moved with excruciating slowness, as if bearing the weight of an entire world.
In his hand, he held the authority of salvation and destruction, the reins to tame the end and rebirth.
Joshua could hear a low voice echoing in the darkness. It was the voice of the will of all beings, of all things, of this world itself. It was begging, it was wailing, it was telling its own pain and despair.
The world was begging for redemption.
“No.”
And the man who held the authority spoke with cold indifference: “I refuse.”
And so all things decayed, and everything returned to nothingness.