A dull longsword and a heartbroken villager

The two of them could feel the earth trembling simply by standing there.

The sky kept cracking, which was quite frightening.

For some reason, the world always feels empty, as if a lot has been lost.

“I hope you won’t die like this, Mr. Ring-Bearer.” Jonathan took off his hat and gave Bray a very gentlemanly bow.

"I estimate that the golden seed will bring peace to the world in a day or two."

This time, it wasn't the Silver Race that took over the world; it was the true gods who reigned supreme.

“Just as you expected, sir.” He laughed lightly, then skipped away.

The world outside is now ruled by the Golden Seeds, so where could Jonathan go?

Nobody knows what Jonathan will do, not even Bray.

Jonathan said all that and then left.

They neither killed nor saved Bray; they simply told Bray what was happening outside.

Like a passerby, a narrator.

Bray took out the medicine from his pouch and poured it down his dry throat.

He started coughing after a few sips because his throat was also injured.

Nevertheless, he still had to find a way to drink the potions, because otherwise he might die here very soon.

"Huff..." His breathing was rapid, but his eyes had not yet lost their focus.

Even though the world's walls collapsed completely because of his own actions, he still seemed to feel that there was something he could do.

This is the craziest Bray ever; no Bray in any other timeline has ever acted so insanely.

By doing this, he is essentially bringing about the end of the world ahead of schedule.

In reality, no matter how long we delay or what methods we use to maintain the world's barrier, this day will eventually come.

Sometimes it drags on for decades, sometimes it only takes a few days.

But he told Bray that decades and days were the same, rather than sitting and waiting for the golden seed to arrive.

It's better to let that day come.

"Come here." A "voice" echoed in Bray's mind.

No one but Bray could hear this sound.

It's less a sound and more a direct influx of information that Bray could easily understand into the mind.

This is the most primordial language, a language that all things can understand.

It is also a dialogue between the will of the world and Bray.

"As expected, they've arrived." But Bray didn't show any surprise after hearing the words of the World Will.

Did he anticipate this? No... it was just his intuition that told him something similar would happen.

At the final moment, Kapras would summon the Ringbearer for his own sake.

Just like what Blakeras encountered in most of the timelines.

This time, Bray heard it too.

However, the will of the world merely conveyed this message to Bray.

What exactly does "here" in "come here" refer to? Bray already had the answer to that question in his mind.

The true world is where the will of the world resides.

That is the possibility... the possibility that White Face spoke of, the place where His "time" ends.

The world cannot protect itself, but it can give people the power to protect themselves.

The world doesn't make choices on its own, but it can give people the power to choose.

But how can one possibly get to the real world? There are no related images in any of the memories from any timeline.

It seems that everything related to it has been completely erased.

“Stone slab…” Bray suddenly remembered Dorothea’s conversation with him.

“Nicholson! The stone tablet! Nicholas!!” he shouted at the empty space.

The last chance was inside the stone slab; that was the only place Bray could think of.

Although there was no one around, Bray believed that Nicol Bolas could hear him, since that had always been the case.

However, this time Nicol Bolas did not respond or appear.

"Stop shouting, mortal." A very arrogant voice rang out in front of the mine.

A white, fluffy ball sat atop a huge rock, looking down at Bray.

"The Pure White Heart, Wiltren," descended upon this place for this mortal. After the world's barrier shattered, the golden race immediately descended, leaving everyone with a sense of abruptness.

However, this was not unexpected at all for the gold variety.

They waited for as long as they could, regardless of whether they were neutral Golden Race or not, waiting for the world's walls to crumble.

They had been banished by their "mother" for far too long, so long that they had become too lazy to keep track of time.

From very early times, there have been those who observe the world's movements.

Their coming is inevitable; it's just a matter of time.

Returning to the world once again, is the Golden Seed filled with joy or anger?

Most likely.

For the lower species, the time for judgment has arrived; the wrath of all the golden races is unnecessary.

It would be enough to wipe out the lower species if only a few golden species unleashed their fury upon them.

Even the seemingly harmless "Word Spirit Star Themifik" has countless ways to wipe out lower species.

To take away the language of inferior species and make the words of one's own mouth come true.

Even without bloodshed, lower species can be driven to extinction.

Jonathan's statement that the lower species would become extinct within a day or two is not an exaggeration; in fact, "a day or two" is a very generous timeframe.

Apart from the Silver race, which can resist some of the influence by relying on its own concepts, the lower races can do nothing in front of the gods.

Even the safe zone is nothing more than a toy.

From this moment on, every breath everyone takes could be their last.

At first, only a dozen or so eager golden seeds will arrive, and then many more golden seeds that were originally in a wait-and-see state will return.

Due to the overly powerful concept, many spaces in Kapras began to show voids.

Everything that was originally in the void—inanimate objects, living things, and energy—vanished completely.

Were they wiped out? Erased? Or simply dead?

I don't know if things that have returned to nothingness can ever return to their source.

The only thing known is that the golden race is completely unconcerned about this terrifying void; they even have the ability to move through it.

Wiltron, who was in front of Bray, also possessed this ability.

Although Wiltron's appearance is that of a fluffy ball, it is impossible to tell that he has any combat ability.

However, for all gods, there is no distinction between "suitable" and "unsuitable" for battle.

Any concept related to gold, once put into use, becomes a terrifying weapon.

The same applies to Wiltren.

He may seem a little cute, a little funny, but no one can laugh when they are in his presence.

Wiltron's body was as white as the snow on the ground.

The sky turned light blue at some point, and the clouds turned pink.

The entire sky looked like an oil painting, very unreal, without any sense of reality.

Looking at the sky makes you feel like you're in a dream.

The ground was the same; the outlines of the rocks and bricks were so rough that they looked like a child's crayon drawing.

Bray looked at the back of his hand, and sure enough, his hand looked strange.

From a third-party perspective, he looked like a child's doodle.

To give an example, it's like that painting Nia used to draw, which Bray remembers was called "The Depressed Dad".

Will this affect the concept of "Blay"?

No, the power of "Final Echo" has already been activated, and the concept has been suppressed.

Unfortunately, even though "The Last Thing" suppressed some of the concept's effect, it was still just a drop in the ocean.

The concept of the Golden Seed is not afraid of the sword's effect at all.

Ultimately, it was a sword forged by mortals. Even if it inherited the world's favor, it still could not overcome that chasm.

The fact that this sword can suppress a demigod is already a great miracle.

To think that one can suppress a true god is far too self-evident.

“Stop yelling, that little bug won’t dare answer you,” Wiltren said arrogantly.

It's impossible for Nicholas to appear; He's barely able to protect himself right now, let alone appear before the Golden Seeds.

“I must say, human, you’ve done a good job and deserve praise.” Wiltron jumped up and down on the rock.

"I'm quite surprised that you killed that white-clad outsider." He seemed extremely pleased, after all, his enemy was dead.

All the Gold Saints, including Wiltron, took notice of the White Face's battle.

Although the white face deliberately concealed its true nature, making the process invisible to the golden seed, they still knew the outcome.

No matter how unbelievable the result may seem, in the end it was indeed the mortals who defeated the white-faced man.

“Unfortunately, even if you help me eliminate the greatest threat, the one who holds the ring still cannot be allowed to live.” Wiltron’s excited tone gradually turned cold.

Bray is a man of discipline, a fact that all the golden seed understand.

No matter how much they look down on those who uphold the precepts, the restraining force is ultimately born from the will of the world, and they cannot simply ignore it.

The best way is to kill them all, leaving not a single one who observes the precepts.

“Are you going to kill me…” Bray looked at Wiltron, his vision was blurry, but he could still make out his shape.

Now that the walls of the world have been broken, those who uphold the precepts are able to be interfered with by the golden seed.

If Wiltron wanted to, he could certainly kill Bray.

"I really want to, I really want to."

“But Themifik doesn’t want you to die; he wants to take care of you.” Wiltron pursed his lips.

“I’m sorry to refuse, I have no intention of being kept by anyone,” Bray said in a hoarse voice.

From the very beginning, He knew what He was to Themifik.

Toys or pets are fine, they're not the same thing.

“I knew you would say that,” Wiltren said calmly.

"All you need to do is fall into a deep sleep, and sleep forever."

"Anyway, as long as you're not dead, it won't be a problem for Themifik," Wiltron said casually.

As long as the toy isn't broken, it's fine.

The "sleep" that Wiltren refers to does not mean sleeping, but rather falling into the world of dreams.

The mind, to Him, is nothing but a fragile thing, and so is Bray's.

"Sleep, live in your dreams." Wiltron's voice became very drawn out.

Bray's grip on the sword gradually weakened, and his right eyelid became too heavy to lift.

There is no possibility of resistance, because this is not magic, not an illusion, and not a drug.