The surrounding environment started to become less real, and the sounds seemed to come from a far-off place. Roger's soul drifted, watching his body gradually turn to dust in the clash of two forces.
Then he saw a figure's back.
A plain white robe, clean and tidy, without any unnecessary decorative patterns. From the back, only the graceful contours of the figure and the platinum hair tied behind her head could be seen.
"Are you ready for the final battle?"
The severed arm on the table automatically jumped up, connecting to the Lord of the Mist's arm.
"So many have died, it's finally your turn!"
"Crunch!"
The table in front was overturned, and the rolling Black Tide came rushing towards the location where Roger and the other were.
"Ophelia!"
The earth cracked a gap, then spread across the whole city. Amidst the cataclysm, the world became dark and then completely shattered.
"Was everything just an illusion earlier?"
