Rumble rumble.
Bang bang bang!
Large swathes of land began collapsing into the void from the outer edge of the ninth layer.
[Mythical Level] props couldn't be destroyed because of this.
Only the "battlefield" was collapsing.
Pillars of pitch-black light surged from the collapsing fissures.
The battlefield, having decided the outcome, seemed to have lost its meaning in the eyes of deities.
They were cleaning everything up in their preferred manner.
Swift and clean.
...
In an instant.
Perhaps a second.
Perhaps half a second.
Perhaps even less.
Connor's sword descended.
In the blink of an eye, Oda Mai appeared behind Connor, her broken blade stuck at her left hand's tiger's mouth as if it had never been drawn. She lifted her head, her withered hair clinging to her forehead. After a long exhale, she never inhaled again; her breath stopped abruptly.
"Not bad."
After a moment of silence, Connor turned around and sheathed the giant sword on his back: "I had a good time."
