Prologue

[Narrators POV]

Falling. He was falling before the enormous thunderclap reached his ears. He descended in a column of superheated air from travelling at such great speeds. His opponents shrank with distance as he descended through the troposphere, piercing the clouds as he fell. The people of the Theocracy watched as the speck of black clothes fell from the heavens at speeds the naked eye struggled to witness. As powerful as he was, this was a battle he could not win.

There was no grand entrance with uplifting music or light show. No grand fireball of hypersonic re-entry as he came within sight. The pouring rain made sure of that. He laid in the scorched field, once lush with trees and grass.

His majestic black robes were ripped and torn from the battle. What was once a sight to behold, now covered with grime and dirt. The storm roared on in the background as lightning flashed and swerved as the wind howled as though they were announcing a departure. The people of the Theocracy feared that he was dead.

Eight figures landed softly on the ground, roughly fifty metres away from the fallen God. Rain poured out of the sky in thick sheets. A violent gale ripped across the field as all who watched covered their eyes and braced themselves as the rain was driven painfully onto exposed skin.

The glorious being they worshipped that laid motionless on the ground robbed the onlookers of all their tongues. Most of the eight figures were all human. There was no denying that. [Sense Race] was an 8th tier spell that could detect the race of any target.

He had used the spell when they first met during an unsuccessful diplomatic meeting. The leader of the eight figures wore a beautiful full set of golden armour. It was a [Divine Class Item], and so was the sword he held in his right hand.

He did not want to think of YGGDRASIL anymore. That was a relic of the past.

"It did not have to come to this." Said the leader in a tone both soft and harsh. "You should have agreed with us. You should have joined us." There was no reply. The leader turned to face the other seven members of his group before turning back.

"[Penetrate Maximize Magic: Heaven-Piercing Spear]!"

That was the death blow.

[Heaven-Piercing Spear] was the 10th tier holy spell that can be used by anyone with a holy or divine class if they met the right conditions. It summoned a majestic golden spear that emanated a blinding light that vaporized all it touched. A spell with holy properties did even more damage to the undead.

He had seen that spell countless times before. In this life, and the life before. Taking in base factors such as base damage and AoE, it was slightly more efficient than the 10th tier spell [Reality Slash]. With the right buffs and conditions, a spell like that could take down any level 100 undead.

He knew he'd die here today. His HP was already three-quarters below the maximum. He had also completely exhausted all his MP reserves along with all of his recovery potions to restore HP and MP. There were no other gimmicks he could use to flee the area.

He had always wondered what waited for him on the other side. Will he be reborn once again? Or, will he cease to exist? Decades had passed since his comrades had left him, slowly passing away from old age. After all, they were human and their life expectancy was low compared to other races.

Loneliness was not the only thing that could describe how he felt at the moment. Was it grief? Acceptance? He didn't know. It was supposed to be impossible for him to feel emotions as, like all undead, possessed a racial emotional nullifier. Such strong emotions would have surely been detected, would they not?

Decades of solitude had taken a toll on him, like an aquarium glass slowly breaking under the pressure of water. He wanted to end it all right then and there. The war had reached the borders of the Slane Theocracy, and when his advisors tried to prevent him from taking up the challenge issued by the invaders, he paid them no heed.

The voices of his subjects mean nothing to him anymore. He could never agree with the policies of demi-humans and slavery issued by his advisor, Pharma. They were cruel, unethical and vile. Yet, even after his pleas, they went on in the name of humanity and his friends.

The figures in front of him were new to the world at the time, freshly plucked from the toxic wastelands of 2138. They were new to the godhood they had obtained and in the blink of an eye, eager to mould the world in the shape of their pent-up philosophies and desires.

It was understandable. The world the figures, his friends and himself hailed from, was horrible. A crumbling dystopian society suffering from the aftermath of climate change and nuclear war. You couldn't go outside without an oxygen filter and an acid-proof hazmat suit.

Their old world was run by megacorporations that exploited their employees. Unfair work hours, little pay and claustrophobic work areas were common. Their only escape was the virtual world. A place where the sky wasn't covered in a black haze and where you wouldn't choke on fumes.

When he and the figures first met at that diplomatic meeting, just like water and oil, they never mixed. He had hoped to be with a group similar to his friends. Close, caring and who he could call family. Yet, just like the Theocracy, their ideals were inhumane and monstrous. Things escalated quickly as the eight declared war, seeking to take control of the supercontinent.

His plan of killing their leader, Uriah, in the hopes of destroying their order, failed. Of course, he had never expected the plan to work in the first place. A single level 100 like himself, could do nothing against eight level 100s.

His pleas for banning the national religion fell on deaf ears as it soon grew into something out of his control. The Slane Theocracy expanded beyond its original borders. Conquering nearby countries and nations in the name of his friends and himself. It was the last thing he wanted.

But, it did not matter. Nothing did. He would soon be reunited with his friends, his family. Then, this nightmare would be over. Emotions ran freely as his limiter broke. He could hear the voices of his friends calling out across the battlefield that he lay on.

Nonexistent tears ran down his cheek. He doesn't remember the last time he cried like this but, the feeling was a pleasant one. He looked up at the sky one more time. He could have sworn he saw the images of his friends wave at him.

He remembers the last time they were all together, all happy. They showed off their magic tricks to the denizens of the new world. They taught the humans how to use magic and how to fight. They

taught them knowledge about everything they possibly could.

They celebrated together, laughed together and cried together. Some even got married and had children, making him an uncle. He saw each of them grow up, play and mature into young adults. Yet, as the years passed on, his friends departed from the world of the living, leaving him alone.

'My friends … my family … I can't wait to meet you again! Wait for me!'

He took a glance at his surroundings before closing his eyes softly for the last time. Regret - no, the feeling could not have been registered as such. But, regret was the best feeling it could be defined as, swept his mind. Before he knew it, a bright light covered his entire body.

'But truly … what had it all been for in the end?'

Like that, Surshana knew no more.