The figure stood at the edge of the Dragon's husk.
What remained of Amaterasu was vast even in death—black armor dulled, ancient fire gone, the presence that had shaped continents now reduced to silence. The volcano no longer breathed.
The figure looked upon him.
"There will be those who curse your fall," he said quietly. "And those who praise it. Both wrong."
He turned his gaze toward the darkened sky, where light no longer dared linger.
"I will bring about an end to the Age of Light and Shadow."
The words did not echo.
They settled.
"Your death," the figure continued, voice steady, unshaken, "is not fear, it is not vengeance. It is not conquest."
He stepped closer.
"It is the first correction."
Pink light flickered once around him—then stilled.
"The first necessary step."
The figure closed his eyes.
"So that the world may learn," he finished, "that even eternity can be brought to its knees."