That day, the entire sky blazed with a radiant golden hue.
The deadly meteors that struck fear into everyone were all successfully stopped by Bishop Peter alone.
Suspended in the sky, his figure wrapped in light was etched deeply into the eyes of all who beheld him.
The people wept; they laughed with joy; they bowed in reverence before him and offered their gratitude. It was as though the very God of Light had descended, bringing salvation to all.
For those who were saved, that image would forever be remembered and praised, lasting until the very end of their lives.
. . .
Once the threat had been vanquished, Bishop Peter continued to hover above them.
He was like a guardian angel, ensuring that everyone could depart in peace and safety.
In the distance, their enemies did not attempt to pursue or strike again. They simply stood in silence, watching as the long procession gradually faded from sight.
. . .
Zolie: "So we're just letting them leave like that, Lord Zerathis?"
Zerathis: "That will do. If it seems good, then take it. Pressing them any further could mean one of us might fall."
Nyxar: "Haha. That glowing old man kept glaring at us from the sky the whole time. If we tried anything more, he'd surely risk his life to take a bite out of us."
He laughed heartily as he voiced his thoughts.
Zerathis: "Indeed. A beast at death's door can be at its most dangerous."
Erya: "Did he use 'Divine Blessing' once already?"
Having only just recovered, she lacked much of the recent information and could only speculate based on Zerathis's words.
Zerathis: "Yes. He used it once when he fought me before."
Hearing his confirmation, Erya immediately understood and nodded. Such a skill was not something one could wield repeatedly in a short span without paying a price.
Zolie: "So you had already foreseen his latest move?"
Zerathis: "I did not need to calculate that. Whatever the opponent does, victory will ultimately belong to us, will it not?"
With that, Zerathis turned and left the battlements. Many other matters still awaited his attention.
The other three walked on after him, appearing to be in quite a good mood.
. . .
He was merely an ill-suited substitute, and Bishop Peter had always been keenly aware of that.
In contrast to his predecessor, Bishop Draven, who excelled in military affairs, combat, politics, administration, and decisiveness, Peter simply was not fit for the role of a leader.
He knew he lacked the ability to make crucial decisions or to command others. Worse still, he was often passive and indecisive in many matters.
Bishop Peter had no fondness for conflict; instead, he cherished the quiet simplicity of daily life. This nature was reflected even in his limited mastery of offensive magic, despite his age.
Thus, it was precisely because of that gentle nature that he was entrusted by the majority with the task of leadership during the Light Church's time of hardship in Aldor.
How ironic it was: those who fought for the vacant seat left by Bishop Draven did not obtain it, while the one who had no desire for it at all ended up holding it.
Since ascending to the highest position of the branch church, Peter never felt he had done anything truly worthy of it.
Worse still, in a crucial battle against an enemy that threatened the entire city, he performed poorly. His aversion to conflict left him far less experienced in battle compared to men like Captain Marcus or Guildmaster John.
Against ordinary foes, this might not have mattered. But when facing an opponent of such a high level, like that Demon Mage in the guise of a Warrior, the flaw was instantly magnified many times over, becoming a weakness targeted and exploited to the fullest.
In the end, even after resorting to his greatest trump card - 'Divine Blessing', they could not secure victory. Captain Marcus and the talented young Ethan, with a bright future ahead, sacrificed themselves to hold back the enemy.
Peter could only flee in shame, unable to contribute further. He found it hard to forgive himself, even though Clara and the others insisted he had done the right thing and bore no fault.
Fortunately, the regrets and shame of the past finally found a chance for redemption.
For the first and only time, he could proudly say that he had protected everyone, accomplishing something truly worthy of the seat he had taken.
"The sun is as beautiful as ever."
Gazing toward the sunset sinking behind the mountains, Bishop Peter breathed out words of gentle wonder, like a passing breeze.
The sight carried him back to his earliest days in the church, when he first stepped into its halls. That radiant, warm light had guided him through nearly his entire life.
"I have lived the life I wished for."
He smiled broadly, filled with contentment.
And so, Bishop Peter's figure slowly dissolved into the fading sunset at the edge of the sky, until he vanished completely.
. . .
The sacrifice of Bishop Peter brought no small turmoil to the entire group.
Yet in the end, no matter the fear, grief, loss, or regret they felt, the living had no choice but to keep moving forward, especially with a long and arduous road still lying ahead.
. . .
After walking with the group for a short distance, Tris and Rin quietly parted ways at a crossroads to continue their own journey.
Most of the people would press on northward, while the two of them turned east, their destination the capital city of Lume, as had been planned from the start.
Of course, Tris and Rin were not the only ones to separate; everyone had their own choices and lives to follow.
. . .
Noticing Tris quietly departing, Guildmaster John came especially to bid him farewell.
John: "Thank you for all your help. Without you, we would have faced an outcome far more disastrous than this."
Tris: "As I said before, in that situation, helping you was also helping myself. No debts are owed between us."
Seated on the shoulder of his puppet 'Berserker,' Tris replied.
He sat there partly because he disliked walking, but also because he didn't want to stay cramped in the puppet's confined space. As for the puppet 'Black Horse,' it still needed time to be repaired after sustaining damage earlier.
Meanwhile, Rin sat on the puppet's other shoulder, while Guildmaster John rode his flying fish. Thus, the three remained at eye level, able to converse without anyone needing to crane their neck.
John: "Even if you say that, I still hope to express my gratitude, both on my own behalf and on behalf of many others."
Tris: "Very well, I acknowledge it. Caring for an entire group is already troublesome enough, and you have countless other matters to attend to. So there's no need to concern yourself with me any further."
John: "Haha. Talking with you out here helps me forget my troubles for a while. Don't remind me of them."
Tris: "Then I'm afraid you'll have to return to dealing with them right away."
And with that, the puppet turned and strode off, carrying Tris and Rin into the distance.
John looked at his departing figure one final time, ruffled his messy hair, and then steered his flying fish back to the others.