Both the holy tree and the grass field were set ablaze, sending the spirits fleeing in a fluster. The intense heatwave dissipated the apparitions of the ancient gods. Even Priestley’s body was burned down in the searing heat, leaving nothing but a faint echoing scream amidst the crackling blaze.
The brilliance of the flames formed a stark contrast against the night sky, drawing the stunned gazes of the fleeing soldiers and students. The monsters in the city also quickly ran away out of instinctive fear of this divine flame.
Roel stared at the Primordial Flame before him quietly, knowing that everything had finally ended.
As powerful as Priestley was, he still ended up meeting his end to the flames of a fallen god. Even his powerful ancient revival spell was useless before the blazing purgatory—there was simply no chance of survival before these inextinguishable flames. All that would do was to prolong his suffering.
A Human Sovereign had fallen, marking the end of an era.
Priestley’s downfall spurred many thoughts in Roel, but the one that really caught his attention was the moment Priestley created a godslaying sword that surpassed his current capabilities under the immense pressure coming from Artasia.
Through the blessings of the ancient gods on the altar, Priestley was able to regain his youth, albeit temporarily. This meant that his bloodline was capable of doing more than just protecting him from spells—it could very well harness the power of revitalization too.
It was just that there wasn’t much that could threaten him as an Origin Level 1, and his fear of death prompted him to steer clear of risky situations. Without any pressure to push him forward, he ended up never exploring the final and extreme possibility of his bloodline ability.
How ironic was it that Priestley had betrayed humankind for something that had possibly been in him all this while?
If he had chosen to put his life on the line for the preservation of humankind even once, this could have been a story of a hero being repaid for his nobility. It was a pity that the old man who was once wise had lost sight of what was important to him.
Roel looked at the raging inferno and sighed heavily.
On the other hand, Artasia frowned in dissatisfaction at how quickly it all ended. It was the long-awaited return to this world for the white-haired witch, but her opponent couldn’t even last long enough for her to have her fun.
“We could have played a little longer if he wasn’t in such a rush. How foolish,” lamented Artasia in boredom.
It might have been a close shave for Roel, but to Artasia, it was nothing more than a game. The conclusion had already been decided from the moment she made her appearance.
“I must say, this body does feel marvelous. So this is the Ascart Bloodline?”
Artasia lowered her eyes to look at her hands as she slowly clenched them into fists, feeling the ext
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