The God of Earth had died. In the moments before his death, the Life-Carver had slammed his crumbling Divine Kingdom into the staging area of the demons, an action that would consign proof of his existence into oblivion.

That volcano would not be allowed to block the only invasion route of the demons for long. History would only have text to record his sacrifice with, within the next few days, and the great god would be a footnote in history from there on.

Rahwei had to know this.

Yet…

The colonel took a deep breath and prayed for the great god earnestly. He rarely — no, never — did that, but this was the first time he had a heartfelt urge to thank a great god. The fellow Guardians around him did the same, and once he was done, he looked at the huge mountain that had claimed millions of lives.

Whatever battle that was going to happen today had been ended abruptly. The falling Divine Kingdom had obliterated the entire enemy army, camp and all. The demons would return, but Rahwei’s last act had brought enough time for the Five Lands to fully reinforce the Heaven-cleaving Fortress. It was an act that had, and would continue to, save thousands of lives.

Aziz, whose vow was to save as many of his subordinates as possible, could only offer thanks in return. To the great god who had passed away, there was nothing else he could do.

Maybe I should at least record this in history…With that thought in mind, Aziz deactivated the Exo-Skeleton he was wearing, and the retractable armour plates returned to their original size. Taking out his Display, he recorded the events of today, before asking Marie to record down the majestic and sorrowful sight of the enormous volcano.

“I’m done,” said the marshal. “This…will be the only proof of the Life-Carver’s sacrifice, however.”

“Yes.” Aziz closed his eyes. “The God of Earth, in his final moments, turned whatever remaining proof of his existence into a weapon, using it against the demons. Buying time for the Five Lands, the Life-Carver consigned his final moments into a doomed fate.”

When he next opened them, he gazed out at the mountain of fire. “Isn’t this a sacrifice that should be recorded for all time?”

“Yes, it is.” Marie looked out at the monument of the Life-Carver’s sacrifice.

“We’ll stay on guard for another thirty minutes.” A cool voice that brooked no objection rang through the sky, and Aziz turned to its source on instinct. Luxanne, the leader of the middle airzone’s Guardians, had issued her orders, and the colonel saw no reason to disobey.

The others didn’t, either.

Perhaps the other Guardians felt that it was fitting for them to watch over the tombstone of Rahwei, or that it was inappropriate to leave after such a sacrifice. The colonel obviously had no clue about what the others was thinking, but the solemn atmosphere was one that he could get behind.

“After all this,” said Marie, “I’m going to be a historian or something.”

“They’re never going to let you go, though,” Aziz replied quietly.

“Then you do it,” the marshal replied.

Aziz didn’t say anything in reply. He had been harbouring such thoughts for some time. About his future. What would he be, when the war ended and he was too crippled to continue on as a soldier? His retirement fund was quite huge, which, given his position and rank, was natural.

A historian did sound nice.

Shaking his head, he let out a small sigh and fixed his gaze on the great mountain. “Go in peace, Rahwei. Thank you.”

The howling winds caught his words and sent them over to the other side of the landbridge. The other Guardians began to murmur similar words as well, creating a stream of undulating murmurs from which no one could pick out a single word from.

A distant rumble shook Orb as the four stars slammed into the middle of the Never-ending Ocean, breaking the reverie that had permeated the fortress. The landing spot was so deep within the Never-ending Ocean that Aziz could only see four suns within the vast ocean.

“What’s going to happen now?” Aziz muttered.

“I don’t think even the great gods have an answer to that question,” Marie replied, her voice quiet. “But it’s possible that when the next batch of demons come, we will face a battle of truly titanic proportions. The gods have returned to the surface of Orb; familiar spirits will probably join the warfront now.”

“Is it time for us to retire?” Aziz asked. “We’ll be like grass when faced with such enemies.”

“Regretfully, I do not believe that this is an option,” Marie replied. “And besides, the great gods outnumber the Demon God three to one. There should be more than enough familiar spirits to spare.”

Aziz still didn’t like the sound of that, though. He had caught wind of a demon Knight — ahem, Scholar — masquerading as their lower ranks in the lower airzone. That demon had launched a sudden attack on the fliers there, taking out quite a few people before it had been put down.

Thankfully, no demon Paragon or Demigod had thought to do that in the middle airzone, but once there were enough Demigods in play, it was possible that one of those sneaky fellows would try that idea. He didn’t understand why the higher-ups were so adamant that nothing of that sort would happen, but he had no way of influencing their thoughts.

It was a disaster waiting to happen.

In a war where both sides weren’t immortal, obtaining control over the higher airzone was the best tactical choice. However, if one side was immortal, turning the war into one of attrition was the soundest choice. It was such an obvious tactical choice to Aziz, so either the bigshots of the Wildlands couldn’t bring themselves to do it — which, given their bloodthirsty nature — didn’t make that much sense, or there was something else preventing them from doing so.

Either way, the battle was going to shift drastically over the next week. With reinforcements en route and the great gods back on Orb, the next battle would be an insane one.

Letting out a small sigh, he joined the others in returning to base after standing guard for another twenty minutes. Today had been a tiring day.