Chapter 122 Aurelia Fateiris
The girl stood tall amidst the silent battlefield, surrounded by the ruins of magic and the bloodstains of fallen angels. A golden aura enveloped her, pulsing slowly like the final breath of a world on the brink of extinction. Qayin had been destroyed, Azazel had fallen—yet this victory came at an immeasurable cost.
"Forgive me, nee-san," the girl whispered softly, reluctant to look back at the figure of the woman with golden hair and towering white wings standing there.
"You foolish little sister," the golden-haired woman replied, her voice trembling as she fought back tears on the verge of breaking.
"I'm leaving now, nee-san," the girl said, offering a faint smile before slowly disappearing from sight.
The same smile she had once seen before.
The night wind carried the scent of burning metal and smoldering embers. The world had just endured a small apocalypse that shook everything, but the price paid went far beyond blood or magic. The sky above Atlantis cracked open wide, and from that rift descended a mournful cry, audible only to a mother.
Iris stood frozen among the ruins of the underground palace, her body motionless. Her heartbeat was not driven by fear, but by a dreadful premonition of something inevitable—a loss creeping silently through the stillness.
Suddenly, a shadow appeared behind her.
It was no ordinary teleportation. It was not the common magic known by many.