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This time, not even a shockwave followed. All sound vanished from the world. All color disappeared. Only two beams of light blazed furiously, trying to consume the other. In the end, like a massive eraser forcibly wiping away a drawing, Ragnarok slowly began eating away at the Itarim and the world they had created. Something gave way.
A soft moan escaped the Itarim’s lips. Their massive, bleeding eye met Suho’s. Even now, however, amid terrible pain, there was an odd sort of elation in them. It burned. It hurt. It was a searing, unbearable pain. Still, at the same time, there was also wonder that they, a god, were dying by the hand of one they had created. How contradictory, how fascinating, how novel an experience this was! This, too, was a new kind of pleasure, one that might finally put an end to the long-standing apathy.
However, there was one thing that disrupted this otherwise perfect stage for the Itarim.
“The abyss, huh?”
Suddenly, their gaze passed over Suho and looked beyond. At some point, a shadow had appeared. It took no part in the battle, merely observing it all from a distance. This shadow was Beru, or rather, someone beyond Beru’s shadow—someone far off in the vast universe, watching everything unfold through Beru with a deep and unfathomable gaze.
“You... simply watch to the end....
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