"I think that's fine, but... who is the Fire Thief?" Mo Ling asked, not quite following.
At this question, the Ancient Mine Race's gaze sharpened, and he slowly withdrew the hand resting on Mo Ling's shoulder.
"Oh, a former companion. I mistook you for someone else," the Ancient Mine Race said, sounding a little forlorn.
Mo Ling nodded and grunted softly in acknowledgment.
The two of them sat on the rock, gazing up at the sky in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
"I'm not doing so well... I'm getting a little tired," the Ancient Mine Race suddenly said to Mo Ling, his words heavy with meaning.
"Alright. Then... goodbye."
"Goodbye."
With that farewell, the entire battlefield began to disintegrate. Countless stone pillars toppled, the earth fractured and collapsed, and dust filled the air.
But the rock they sat on remained unshaken, untouched by the chaos around them, until all that was left was pitch-black nothingness.
The rock drifted alone in the black void.
