The wound on my wrist was clean, but no blood was flowing out.
Compared to a vibrant life, Ning Feng at this moment was like a lifeless ghost.
But when the hand leaves his wrist and appears in the sight of the saints, it suddenly transforms from illusion into reality.
Its appearance filled the void left by the "Hand of God".
At this point, everything on the battlefield was exactly the same as Ning Feng remembered.
The artifact that Ariana regarded as the "Hand of God" was not originally brought by the saints; their purpose was to serve as a vessel for divine consciousness.
Ning Feng, however, represents the fourth force that emerged after the gods intervened.
"What's this?"
"There are other people!?"
"Wait, what is this!"
"A sacred body? Which deity's?"
No one answered the saints, and Alice was stunned the moment the palm pierced through her body.
The hand appears to be composed of pure energy and has not caused any harm.
She didn't recognize the owner of the hand; she only felt a sense of unfamiliarity, yet also a feeling that seemed strangely familiar...
Whose is it?
Why do I feel nostalgic?
Even in the midst of a life-or-death battle, she was still lost in confusion, constantly pondering this unfamiliar feeling.
Who is it?
Whose hand is this?
Who exactly is it?
The feelings that surfaced in her heart made her feel wronged and even vulnerable.
Before she could figure out an answer, the changes triggered by the palm had already fully erupted, and the power that burst forth from it engulfed everything.
Saints, divine thoughts, Alice, Sky City... everything that exists here is enveloped within a huge golden sphere of light.
Amidst the sudden upheaval and storm, Ning Feng recalled Ariana's question:
What do you think this hand represents in terms of divine authority?
Ahh...
"So, it's [time]."
Ning Feng glanced at his wrist, then at his body, which had become transparent in an instant, smiled and disappeared from the spot.
However, there's still a little bit missing, just one last thing.
The final promise.
...
...
"Um?"
Ash Fera struggled to open his eyes and looked at the man who had appeared in front of him.
It was a man he had never seen before, with gentle eyes and a warm aura.
No, there was another figure behind him.
It was a dark figure missing a hand, with a pair of similar eyes.
For no apparent reason, Ash remembered a long, long time ago, of those ruins in the snow.
There was also someone like that who appeared beside him at the very end...
I've seen you before!
Ash stared wide-eyed at the radiant man, his excitement growing:
"Did you come to pick me up? So, there really was someone waiting for me!"
The young man paused for a moment, then nodded and smiled gently:
"Of course, I'm here to pick you up."
The reflection behind him didn't speak, but smiled and reached out its hand to him.
Looking at the dark palm, Ash struggled to straighten his body.
"Then they! Are they waiting for me too?"
Father, Mother, and the other members of our tribe who died in battle... are they all waiting for me?
Yes, it will.
Smiling happily like a child, Ash shakily raised his hand, trying to grab the man's sleeve, but it fell limply halfway up.
"That's great! That's great..."
His frail, ailing hands, weakened by illness, fell limply. After a long wait, he met his end at the most poignant moment.
He faced his death without regret.
"……good evening."
Like a gentle whisper, the young man murmured softly and gently placed Ash's hand on his chest.
However, what he didn't know at that time was that, in that very instant, Ash's soul had already left the body that had imprisoned him for thousands of years.
The soul, much younger than its physical body, stared in astonishment, scrutinizing its own form.
After the young man and his companions left, Ash finally calmed down and looked at Ning Feng, who was quietly waiting beside him, with a complicated expression:
"Are you the Prophet?"
"That's what some people used to call me."
Inhale—exhale!
Ash habitually took a deep breath, even though this action wouldn't do any good for him right now, it still helped him calm down a bit.
Although he was released from the ice and grew up in this era, he is not a person of this era.
In his childhood, which he had almost forgotten, that name was more than just a symbol.
That was a being greater than any god.
Even in the most difficult times, those uncles and aunts firmly believed that the prophet would return to save them.
And now, he...she is standing right in front of him, alive and well.
"It turns out that the most mysterious prophet was not actually a legend."
"But aren't you a little too late?"
Do you know how long we've been waiting for you to come back?
Ning Feng looked at Ash, who bore a striking resemblance to Jasmine, and shook his head.
"The prophet is not mysterious at all. In the beginning, he was just a child who wanted to live."
Whether in that dark slave dungeon or that succubus's treacherous chamber, all he wanted was to survive.
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