[230] The Last Page of Pangeal

[230] The Last Page of Pangeal

Chapter 230: The Last Page of Pangeal

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The water lapped softly against the edges of the tub, its warmth doing little to soothe the tension in her heart. Elara stood up slowly, water droplets sliding down her skin as she reached for the towel. Her movements were almost mechanical, she would have rather remained in the tub if given the chance.

The dim light of the bathroom cast shadows under her eyes, exposing the fatigue that weighed her mind these days. Her usually sharp eyes were dulled with exhaustion.

As a deity, Elara didn’t have physical fatigue. The thing that weighed her wasn’t physical.

She wrapped the towel around her hair, feeling the cool air prickling her skin as she stepped out of the tub. A deep sigh escaped her lips. The migraine pulsed behind her temples, a relentless drumbeat that matched the throbbing of her heart.

It was a familiar pain, it was from a hangover. But she hadn’t felt it when she stopped drinking a month ago, because her mind had him to distract her with. But now he wasn’t here.

“Aqua...” The name lingered in her mind, a reminder of the man who had once been Seriphoth, her everything—and now, was someone else.

Elara rubbed her temples, trying to ease the pressure building in her head. The pain had been manageable before, nonexistent even, when she was beside him. But now, when everything had gone wrong—despite saving the world—it had returned with interest.

“Damn it...” she muttered under her breath, her voice filled with annoyance.

She began to dress up, her movements slow, the towel in her head falling away as she put on soft fabric that clung to her damp skin. Her body felt heavy, weighed down by the hangover and the emotional turmoil. After he died, the alcohol had been a crutch, a way to numb the pain, but she had sworn it off a month ago. She wanted to go back to it, but the people around her wouldn’t let her.

According to them, it was another layer of agony added to her already tortured soul.

Her heightened senses, after reaching Level 100, only made things worse. Every sound, every flicker of light, and every whisper of movement seemed to grate against her nerves. It amplified the pain in her head. Elara could hear the faintest rustle of leaves outside, the soft murmur of voices in the distance, the steady beat of her own heart.

It was overwhelming, suffocating even. It drove her to the brink of madness.

As she stepped into the hallway, feeling the cold stone beneath her feet, she shook her head off the sounds. The dim light cast shadows along the walls, creating an eerie atmosphere that mirrored the turmoil within her. Her footsteps echoed softly in the silence, a lonely sound just like her.

She was heading toward her bedroom, but she stopped before she could reach it. Her enhanced senses caught her attention—a familiar presence, a pulse of mana that sent a jolt through her mind.

Elara paused, her heart skipping a beat as she turned her head slowly toward the open window to her left.

Through the window, she saw him.

Seriphoth... No, Aquamarine stood outside, surrounded by a small crowd of people. Her eyes grew glossy. The sight of him was enough to make her heart clench painfully in her chest. His figure was tall and muscular, but he looked far different than his Hero image. He had blonde hair that reflected in the sunlight, and blue eyes far brighter than his purple ones.

And yet, he held Sieran in his arms, her closest friend held the man who had once been theirs. Elara’s eyes twitched.

Elara felt a pang of jealousy, sharp and bitter, as she watched Sieran hug him. Jealousy not at the fact that he hugged her, but that Sieran had a flexible enough mind to accept him. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t that she couldn’t accept it, but Sieran could. It wasn’t fair that he could still be so close, so warm, so familiar, and yet be completely out of her reach.

Her chest tightened, her breath catching in her throat as she fought the urge to cry out, to demand why this had to be her reality. Why should things be this way?

Why return like this? Why return as someone else, why return as a person who was the exact opposite of the man that she had fallen in love with? And yet... why, after everything, did he still have this hold on her heart?

Elara retreated from the window, her movements slow as she hid behind the frame, her back pressing against the cold stone wall. She couldn’t bear to watch any longer. She couldn’t stand the sight of them together, knowing that she couldn’t be there with him.

Slowly, she slid down against the wall, her legs giving out as she sank to the floor. The stone was cold against her skin, opposing the heat of the emotions raging within her. She drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she buried her face into it.

“Why...?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Why are you making me go through this, O’ Goddess? What have I done to deserve this?”

The Goddess, what was the point of calling her when she herself was a Goddess? Elara sighed. She could still feel his presence, still hear the soft murmur of his voice as he spoke with Sieran and the others. It was torture, pure and simple, to be so close and yet so impossibly far from the man she loved... once.

Her heart ached with a longing she couldn’t suppress, a pain that refused to fade.

Why did he have to change so much? Why couldn’t he have stayed the man she had loved, the man she had once called her own? Why did he have to become something else, something unrecognizable, something that no longer belonged to her?

Why did he become like the Demon King?

Elara squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to keep the tears hidden, to remain locked away where they couldn’t betray her. But the pain was too much, it was too overwhelming. A single tear escaped, tracing a slow path down her cheek.

She was strong. She was compared with the Hero, who was blessed by the Goddess. She was the normal girl in that team of superhumans, and yet she rose so high. Elara had always been a strong girl. She had faced countless battles and had stood against enemies far more terrifying than this. But this... this was not the same.

This was not a battle she could win, it was a war she couldn’t fight.

The fog had grown dense, almost impenetrable, but through the veil of purple haze, I caught a glimpse of a figure standing at a window of the castle.

It was Elara, my princess, my first love. Her face was barely visible through the mist, but I could see the tears streaming down her cheeks, her golden eyes wide and dark with a mix of sorrow and resolution.

She had made a choice.

She leaned out of the window, her voice trembling with emotion as she continued, “I... I’ll never forget you, even if you’ve changed! I’m sorry... I will come to you by myself someday!”

Her words cut through the air, heavy with the weight of her feelings, as the mist thickened around us, obscuring her from view. I stared back at her, nodding just before all went purple.

For a moment, everything seemed to slow down, her voice echoing as the last connection to this world began to fade.

As the mist swirled thicker around us, the world of Pangeal began to dissolve into darkness. Elara’s voice echoed in my mind, but her figure soon vanished entirely as the mist enveloped everything.

The light dimmed totally, purple becoming black, and at the very last second, I noticed a spark of red... I knew who it was, but I ignored it. The purple mist was replaced by an all-encompassing void, the same gap between reality that I encountered when I came here a month ago.

We were being pulled through the fabric of reality, and the darkness—cold and empty, pressed in from all sides. I remained motionless for a moment. The sensation was disorienting yet oddly familiar, like floating between clouds.

Then, as quickly as the darkness had come, the mist began to clear. The void receded, and the world around us started to form with a purple highlight. The mist lessened, and slowly, familiar shapes of walls and furniture emerged from the fog. Everything was bathed in the warm morning light filtering through the windows.

As the last of the mist faded, we found ourselves back in our house in Japan, the quiet hum of the city outside replacing the silence of the void. The modern contrast with the medieval castle yard was almost jarring, but there was a comfort in the familiarity of it all.

We were back... Back home.

****

The silence of space was decisive, opposing the chaos that had raged only moments before. Sangha stood amidst the debris of Atlanton’s moon, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she took in the devastation around her.

The remnants of a planet so vast it used to rival the size of black holes, now floated in massive chunks around her, shattered and scattered across the cosmos.

Around her, the Seven Swords began to stir, slowly pulling themselves up from the rubble. They were injured, their bodies scarred by the month-long battle, but they were alive. Injury was better than death—the fate that the planet ahead had met.

The Storm Bear King heaved a sigh, his voice gruff as he looked around at the destruction. “Well that was a workout,” he muttered.

Sangha remained silent, her gaze fixed on the floating remains of Atlanton, the home of the Twelve Gods of Atlanton. Along with the planet, the gods too were gone, their remnant floating across space. Her promise to her master had been made, the foolish evil gods had been annihilated.

The Spear of Stars glanced at Sangha, yawning, as he asked, “What now, Master? Do we hunt down more evildoers, or go on a vacation for once?”

That was a joke. There was never a ‘vacation’ for the Icy Blooded Sword Sect. He was just being humorous, so he got scared when Sangha’s grip on her sword tightened slightly, her eyes narrowing.

“Uh, Master, I’m joking-”

“Vacation” she suddenly said, turning to all seven of them. “Starting from today, I announce a vacation for you all. I... have an appointment. I’ll treat that as my own vacation.”

Her words hung in the cold, empty space, filled with a resolve that surprised the Seven Swords. What was their Sect Master up to? They opened their mouths, but Sangha cut them short.

“Enjoy your break,” she said... Because she wasn’t sure if she’d enjoy it.

The Icy Blooded Seven Swords exchanged glances, but no one questioned her further. They simply nodded, as she turned away from the wreckage, leaving the shattered remains of Atlanton behind and shooting through wormholes.

For Sangha too, a new journey was about to begin.

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Master4thWall Note: Well that’s that for Pangeal Arc. I enjoyed writing this a lot, and I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much. Unlike The Cursed Gamer, however, the previous worlds will indeed be visited sometimes—and characters from there would also pop up to say hi (or do more).

I have explosive ideas for the next arc, where perhaps we might even surpass the thrilling Heavenly Demon and Venerable Chapters we saw here. So look forward to it!!

If you guys want to read the next chapter, don't forget to check my Patreon. It’s a month ahead there.

Link: /Master4thWall