"The gods will find you soon, and when they do..."

Aurelian’s broken voice dragged through the air, wet and faint, but still carrying that disgusting arrogance even as the void blade pinned his throat to the shattered mountain.

His ruined fingers twitched desperately toward the broken book lying not far from him, trying to reach it, trying to call it back, but the book only trembled weakly in response, its golden pages flickering like a dying flame that no longer had enough strength to burn.

Max watched him without blinking.

Aurelian’s hand stretched a little farther, his nails scraping against the stone, but the book never came within his reach. The light in his golden eyes began to fade little by little, draining away from the edges first, as if something was being pulled out of him from within. He tried to speak again, tried to finish that sentence, tried to leave behind one last warning, one last curse, one last decree from whatever gods stood behind him.

But he never got to finish it. His life faded into the abyss.

The golden brilliance that had covered his eyes slowly receded, peeling away like old paint washed by darkness, revealing the original color beneath it. A deep gray.

Suddenly, Max felt his knee sink.

The body beneath him began to collapse. Aurelian’s skin cracked apart, his bones followed, and in the next moment, the Arbiter’s entire body turned into gray sand beneath Max’s hand, spilling across the shattered ground and covering the stone where a servant of the gods had just been pinned.

Max remained there for a moment, his hand still gripping the void blade, his chest rising and falling heavily as he stared at the sand beneath him.

"It’s over..." he sighed.

His gaze shifted toward the book the angelic avatar had used.

It was fading as well.

The golden cover had lost its brilliance, and the pages that once burned with ancient power were breaking apart one by one, dissolving into thin streams of light that scattered into the air like the last glow of a setting sun.

The wings, the avatar, the mask, the book, even the golden blood staining the stones, everything that had belonged to Aurelian began to disappear as if the Arbiter had never truly existed here at all.

Only Max’s void still lingered in the air.

"Max!"

Agnia moved first, before anyone else could even react. Her eyes were watery, her face pale, and her wounded body still trembled from everything that had happened, but none of that stopped her from rushing toward him as if the whole broken world around them no longer mattered.

She dropped to her knees before him, almost crashing into his body as her hands wrapped around his neck. Her fingers clung to him tightly, afraid that if she loosened her hold even a little, he would vanish together with the Arbiter, the book, and all that fading golden light.

Max remained still for a moment.

His mind was still somewhere far away, buried in the silence after the battle, lost between the gray sand beneath him and the void still lingering around his body. But then he felt something calling him back once more, not the system, not the voice of the creator, not the black mist, but the trembling body pressed against him and the cold tears streaming down his shoulder.

Only then did he finally understand that he was not alone here.

He turned his head slightly, looking at the woman holding onto him as if she had nearly lost the one thing she could not afford to lose.

"Agnia... why?" Max asked, his voice rough and tired. "Why are you crying?"

Only then did his draconic form begin to fade. The void armor loosened around his body, the blade dissolved into black mist, and the darkness slowly withdrew back into him as if even it had finally accepted that the battle was over. His scales faded little by little, leaving behind torn flesh, blood, and exhaustion that he had been ignoring until now.

His tired hand rose and came to rest on her head, his fingers gently patting her crimson hair, while his other arm wrapped around her waist protectively and pulled her closer against him.

For a moment, Max did not know what else to say. He had faced the Arbiter. He had fought the power of the gods. He had nearly lost his system, his life, and everything he had built. But the tears of this woman in his arms somehow made his chest feel heavier than all of that.

So he only held her there, quietly, as the ruined mountain settled around them and the last traces of golden light disappeared from the sky.

"Because!" Agnia wept, her voice breaking as her hands tightened around him. "I was so scared. He showed up out of thin air, attacked me, and kept demanding that I reveal where you were... and then... then..."

Her frame trembled against him, and for once, the proud Fire Dragon woman did not try to hide how badly fear had shaken her. Her fingers curled into his skin as if she still needed to remind herself that he was really here, alive, warm, and holding her.

"I was so worried about you," she whispered, her tears falling harder. "I thought you would die."

Max’s gaze softened.

For a moment, he only looked at her, at those wet eyes, at the trembling lips that tried to stay proud even while her heart was spilling out in front of him. He had seen Agnia angry. He had seen her arrogant, seductive, cruel, and fearless. But seeing her cry for him like this made something inside his chest loosen in a way he did not fully understand.

"I didn’t know you cared that much about me," he said, his voice coming out softer than he expected.

Agnia laughed through her tears for the first time, the sound shaky and broken, but real.

"I didn’t know you cared about me that much either..."

She slowly pulled back, just enough for their eyes to meet. Her cheeks were wet, her crimson hair messy around her face, and even with the wounds on her body and the exhaustion in her eyes, Max found himself staring at her for a little longer than he should have.

"Aren’t you beautiful even when you cry?" he teased quietly.

Agnia’s eyes widened for a second before she turned them away, her face flushing despite everything that had happened. "You..."

Before she could finish, Max leaned in, pulled her tightly against him, and kissed her deeply.

Agnia froze for only a breath before her hands slid around his neck again, holding him as if she had been waiting for this more than she wanted to admit. The kiss was not gentle at first. It carried fear, relief, exhaustion, and all the words neither of them knew how to say properly. But after a moment, it softened, becoming warmer, slower, and far more honest than either of them expected.

When Max finally pulled away, his forehead stayed close to hers, his arm still wrapped around her waist as his tired fingers brushed through her crimson hair.

"I was worried you would die as well," he said quietly, his gaze dropping for a moment toward her stomach before returning to her eyes. "Both of you."

Agnia’s lips trembled when she heard those words, and for a moment, she did not know what to say. The proud woman who had once looked at Max like an enemy, like a man who had stolen something from her world and ruined the order she had known, could only lower her gaze to the hand he placed over her stomach. His palm was rough, covered in blood, dust, and wounds from the battle, but when it rested there, she felt strangely safe.

Max did not say anything else.

He simply held her close, allowing her forehead to rest against his shoulder while his eyes slowly moved across the ruined mountain around them. The palace was gone. The peak had been split open. Dragons and spirits filled the sky in exhausted silence, all of them watching their king kneel among dust, blood, gray sand, and the last dying traces of golden light.

For the first time in what felt like forever, nobody moved. Nobody shouted. And nobody fought.

Only the wind passed through the broken stones, carrying away the remains of the Arbiter as if the world itself wanted to forget he had ever stood there.

Max’s fingers gently brushed through Agnia’s crimson hair, but his gaze did not soften for long. It drifted toward the gray sand beneath him, then toward the place where the broken book had disappeared. Aurelian was dead. But the words he left behind still remained.

"The gods will find you soon..."

Max’s jaw tightened. He pulled Agnia closer, his hand still resting over her stomach, and quietly looked at the ruined sky above them.

"Let them come," he whispered.