Unlike the poisonous blue-leafed trees, these colossal trees would be barked in light brown, and with golden leaves embellished with stories written in the blood of the subjugated and enemy races. Billions of stories would be traced on those leaves, the ones at the peaks of their trees would be the most valiant and righteous tales.

Perhaps I’ll spend years looking at each leaf, reading each story. I have the time to do it after all.

Orin smiles brightly, almost maniacally, as he envisions his walk through that forest, God’s majestic woodland of triumphs. He and his men would traverse the pristine forest of illuminated divine lore until they reached Osva’s celestial palace. It would look far grander than the palace of the greatest noble on Earth, but once the saved crossed the threshold and entered inside…

They would find infinity.

In that infinite home, where suns and moons hang in light fixtures illuminating the halls, he would reunite with everyone he ever loved. The palace of God would be a divine playground, one that he had always wanted to see and always wanted to rest in. He would see all of his honorable compatriots once more.

He could finally stop moving around with the need to destroy. He could be still and bask in the radiance of God’s divine throne. Maybe he can even apologize to Karise for how he used to belittle her. If he did so before the seat of God’s eternal power, surely he would believe that he wasn’t trying to mock or belittle her?

Although, it doesn't even matter if she forgives him or not.

He doesn't regret anything. He has given everything for his Lord. He will receive the price of his salvation.

Orin blinks slowly a few times in preparation for his brain to lose consciousness. His vision is already clouding up now into blindness.

I've… I've done what I needed to do. I have. I shouldn't regret it now. I shouldn't regret any of it.

Orin loses sight in his eyes. All he hears around him is the sound of the slowly growing flames within the hallway. It makes him feel joyous that they will seek to consume what he could not. Their sound is like music to him. They are like a gift left by him upon the world of his Lord.

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However, before he falls asleep completely, he hears another sound accompanying that crackling flame. Footsteps.

A newcomer? Who is it?

Slow, hard footsteps at the entrance to the hallway. A voice speaks out. A soft, trembling whisper, one that he can still hear clearer than he feels he should. For a moment, the crackling flames around him grow silent before this new presence he feels. He locks on to that voice.

"Ajax? Oh… Oh no…"

A woman’s voice that speaks softly while in disbelief. Yet, he can sense this woman’s terror and dread. She is coming to terms with something unfathomable to her. Ajax… The man doesn't recognize the name.

"Ajax! Oh my God, Ajax!!"

The footsteps rush over to Orin’s fallen body. They stop before they reach him.

"No… No, no, no, no, no, no… Ajax, wake up! Why aren't you… Ajax!! Wake up!!!"

Orin realizes. This woman is not speaking to anyone else in the hallway. She is speaking to the person he has just killed. He can hear the sound of light slapping as if the woman is slapping the cheeks of the head Orin had left behind.

His name… was Ajax. That is the name of my greatest enemy? Is this your provenance, Lord Osva? To allow me the courtesy of hearing the name of my foe, of your foe, before I die? How fitting for a warrior such as myself to hear his name before the end… The honorless brat would not share it with me.

The corners of his lips raise slightly. It makes him feel so good to hear this woman speak his adversary's name while crying over him. Her weeping is his joy. Her tears a nectar that will be added to his grail in his eternal rest.

Yet, what was that bearing he had felt? The aura of someone… important. It isn’t a presence of mana. No, it is… heat? Hotter than the flames surrounding him.

The boy’s power. It was… associated with the cold. Power that could freeze the world solid. This newcomer. I… I can feel her heat… It isn’t even directed at me, it isn’t focused on me yet it… it remains… palpable.

As Orin’s heartbeat slows to a crawl, he feels fear for the last time. He hasn’t completed his task. This man, this monstrous entity who he had just killed… He has a companion. A sister? Someone of his specific kin? Someone who could take revenge in his place.

The Twin Moons. If this person is as resolved as the young man had been, if she knows who to set her sights on… Then, who else in their organization, except perhaps their noble commander, could defend themselves from the fiery onslaught of this new dangerous opponent?

As Orin’s heart stops, his last thoughts are not of euphoria. They are not thoughts of happiness or contentment. Regret. Failure.

Have… I made things worse? Have… I failed?