She kept walking, each step demanding all her strength. The noise and darkness tormented both body and mind, but she still walked.
The angel screamed again, powerless. As Alba stepped onto the first stair, she had already reached the end.
Under the night sky, faint lights appeared along the edge of the mountains. Before her, a simple ancient bronze bell hung in silence.
The great bell was already within reach. Its surface looked worn and old, simple to the point of austerity, and the dents left by countless strikes were clearly visible. There were no decorations or offerings, no need for constant attendance, no sacred display at all. It existed at the very top only to serve its most basic purpose, to be a bell.
At least, that was how Alba saw it, and she thought the bell's purpose was simple enough. Then she paused for a moment. What was it again? Right, why was she supposed to ring it, and if she thought more deeply, what if ringing it was a trap?
She was so tired, truly exhausted, her arm aching so badly she could barely lift the hammer. She did not know when so many things had latched onto her back, weighing her down until she could not move at all. A pitch-black, freezing presence rushed in, not only from outside but also from within her, as if something sealed deep inside had burst open and flooded every corner.
It was black and cold, without any sound, so dark she could not see her own hand, like being thrown alone onto the peak of Snow Mountain on a night with no stars or moon. A blizzard kept falling, stripping away every trace of warmth from her body. Cold was a blade pressed to her skin, and darkness was a future with no end, slow and frightening, dragging on without mercy.
There was nothing she could rely on, so she hugged herself tightly. Even sleeping was not allowed, as if she still had a responsibility, as if she had to guard something. But what was it? She was tired, it was dark, it was cold, and she was so sleepy. Why did it have to be her, when she was weak and afraid and completely ordinary, with so many others far better than her?
So why not lie down? Like everyone else, like those who had already fallen asleep and would likely never wake again, she could just sleep and be done with it. At least then she would not have to face any of this. After all, it was just ringing a bell, what difference could it make?
Her raised hand trembled as she held the hammer. It was not only physical weakness, but doubt in her heart, because perhaps all of this was meaningless. Yes, that was it. Put it down. Put everything down. No one was worth lifting it for.
Behind her, someone seemed to let out a quiet sigh of relief, followed by barely restrained laughter. A Scepter swung again and again, drawing in more darkness and freezing despair. No matter who was pushing from behind Alba, or who had arranged this, Elfido would never allow it to succeed, especially not something as symbolically important as ringing the bell in darkness.
No one was allowed to interfere with him. The moment of ascension was approaching, and he would not be as careless as those fools before him who drew attention and died for it. Elfido had endured for so long, and he did not mind enduring a bit longer. So he chose not to kill her outright, but to guide her will into collapse and rot her mind, and even then he was shocked that such a weak mortal had come this far.
Still, the arrangements placed on her were clearly reaching their limit. Elfido broke into Maniacal Laughter as he watched the hammer-bearing hand slowly fall, almost ready to sing. He did not know why his link to those three gods had suddenly been cut off, or where they had gone, but in the end, victory was his.
Seeing Alba frozen in place, unmoving, Elfido narrowed his eyes and remained cautious, not daring to search her soul directly. That was prudence, never underestimating an opponent until total victory was certain, whether they were alive or dead. He muttered that he would just take a quick look, only enough to understand who was behind this.
He sensed nothing familiar, not Black Dragon or Black Dragon or any trace of Black Dragon. After all, being beaten this badly and still alive, the Lord always played it safe and knew when to retreat. Once he confirmed that she carried no trace of that vanished Black Dragon, Elfido felt much more at ease, since aside from that thing, his abilities were top-tier on The Continent.
As for those people tied to Black Dragon, they were nothing but accessories. His eyes flared with blood-red light, piercing through the outer layer of Holy Light around Alba. Yet along the path of that gaze, a book appeared, its material plain and unremarkable.
From inside to outside, it was a simple White Tier color, so ordinary that it should have been easy to overlook. Yet it was so ordinary that Elfido could not ignore it. The pure White Tier cover suddenly shone, branded with a gilded sun that clashed sharply with the darkness, deeper than shadow and more solemn than cold.
When one looks up at the sun, the sun never looks back. All things stand equally exposed before its light. Those who gaze upon its radiance without permission will have their eyes burned away. A scream tore from him as a blazing sun appeared directly within his mind.
Within that vision, a pair of golden Gold Rank wings slowly unfurled, wrapped in the radiant halo of a Sun Wheel. Sacred Lightning Magic spread outward as the sun's outline reached pure White Tier brilliance. In that moment, a second sun seemed to rise behind it, overwhelming his senses.
Two suns, one large and one small, formed a crown of overlapping light, expanding like a solar storm. Faintly visible within that radiance was a Great Dragon with crimson eyes, wrapped in divine light, roaring as it sensed a filthy gaze directed its way. Even from an unknown distance, that roar carried the same solar brilliance, and to Elfido, it was devastating.
His eyes ignited the instant the light entered them, the flames spreading to his wings as his angelic body twisted and screamed in the air. No amount of darkness or cold could extinguish that light born of the sun, and touching it only made the flames spread faster. In moments, the top of the Cathedral and the Clock Tower became a sea of gold, with light spilling beyond the walls and setting robed monsters outside ablaze.
Those creatures that ignored pain suffered like that, and Elfido, burned directly by the sun, felt his consciousness magnify the agony countless times over. Before his body fully collapsed, his mind was already near death. He screamed in disbelief, unable to accept what he sensed.
This presence was not Black Dragon, neither in light nor divinity. The power around it was unmistakable, it was the very Daylight he had lost. The nearly untouched Daylight Divine Kingdom had been taken over by someone tied to the Lord, and though his eyes were blind, his mind reeled.
So that had been Dawn's backup plan, finding someone capable of replacing Daylight. He could not accept it. Were Dragonkin really the answer to everything, when those beating him down were all Dragon? If a full manifestation appeared at his ascension moment, how was he supposed to continue?
Before he could decide what to do, a simple long-handled hammer swung down in a slender arm. It cut through the air and struck his charred head cleanly, shattering the Shard apart. The already ruined angel finally burst completely.
Alba let out a breath and rubbed her eyes, her head spinning. She staggered up the last few steps, feeling the weight on her back vanish, as if nothing was clinging to her anymore. It felt like she had been trapped alone in darkness for a very long time, and even the atmosphere alone could have driven a normal person to despair.
Then a deafening roar rolled in from afar, light appearing on distant peaks. The wind and snow were blown away, and the endless night was driven back by the sun. When the light reached her eyes, she tightened her grip on the hammer and glanced behind her at the many figures lying there.
Turning back, she looked at the great bell hanging quietly at her side, close enough to touch, and slapped her forehead. She remembered why she had to ring it. The reason was not complicated at all.
Alba walked up to the bell, raised the hammer, and struck it. The sound rang out, deep and steady. The bell, which had stood unused since its creation, finally fulfilled its duty.
As it swayed, far away in the Northlands, a bell buried in snow at the abandoned Ascendant Hall was revealed as the ice melted with the rising sun. It too began to sway, its internal hammer striking the bell wall and sending out the same long chime. By coincidence, it was around six in the morning.