A dull longsword and a heartbroken villager

The statement that humans are like ants is not a joke, nor is it meant to belittle inferior species.

Even Bray himself accepted this gap.

The moment he saw Navarte, he made his decision.

No need for any nonsense, just get straight to the point and get started.

"Shh—" The sand made a noise as it rubbed against the ground.

The moment Bray drew his two swords, skeletons rose from beneath the sand.

The skeleton struggled to stand up, making a constant cracking sound as it moved.

Grains of sand slipped from their ribs and returned to the sea of ​​sand.

Looking at the skeletons, Bray opened his mouth slightly, then finally sighed.

Because the clothes they were wearing were clearly the same clothes worn by the residents of the former capital.

Therefore, it is self-evident who these people who stood up are.

People who have been dead for less than half an hour become skeletons due to the erosion of sand, and are then resurrected through the concept of Navatl.

First the residents, then the soldiers, then the adventurers…

In the sandstorm, Bray couldn't count how many skeletons were standing up.

“Levy, stay here with me,” Bray said to Levy.

“Of course~” Levy wagged her tail and said.

She had said it before, that she would always stay by Bray's side.

The best way to attack a skeleton is—

"Boom!!!"! ! ! ! !

As the sword landed, crimson magic spread out, sweeping away and shattering all the standing skeletons.

In an instant, the sky was filled with broken white bones.

However, Navarre did not react at all upon seeing this.

Bray's all-out sword strike merely swept away the resurrected skeletons; the yellow sand, which was enough to obscure all vision, remained completely unchanged.

No matter how strong the sword wind was, it couldn't budge it in the slightest.

Yellow sand and wind relentlessly enveloped every inch of space around Blei.

Gradually, even breathing became difficult for people in the sandstorm.

“…” Bray gripped his sword tighter.

"boom!!!!"

"BOOM!!!!!"

"Boom!!!!"

He bombarded the earth again and again, his attacks powerful enough to tear the heavens and earth apart and destroy all the skeletons in front of him.

Even without using any skills, sheer brute force would be enough to destroy this wave of the dead.

However, this wave is endless, and even if the bones are broken, they will be reborn in the yellow sand in the next moment.

Without restrictions or conditions, Navatter can make the skeleton stand up again if he so desires.

Magic? No need.

Physical strength? Not needed.

He did all this without paying any price, and he didn't even need to deliberately find a place where many people had died.

If Bray had been more observant, he would have noticed that the wave of skeletons contained far more than just people from the capital.

Even people from the Western Continent, Eastern Continent, and Northern Continent appeared in the line of skeletons.

Navarre possesses the concept, and thus the power to use that ability.

Comparing any necromancer in the mortal world to Navatl would only elicit a discovery from Him.

Concepts are part of this world, not "toys" created by such inferior beings as magic.

In the end, Bray's speed in destroying the skeletons couldn't keep up with their speed in swarming towards him.

A skeleton grabbed his arm.

A skeleton grabbed his clothes.

A skeleton embraced his waist.

Only after coming into contact with these skeletons did he realize that these were things created by the Golden Seed, not the undead he had encountered in the past.

In terms of both quantity and quality, they are worlds apart.

The injuries that should have been immediately healed by the Heavenly Fox Tears remained on his body.

Blood dripped down, only to be absorbed by the sand.

It's been so long since I felt this bleeding, it's been a really long time, probably over a hundred years.

Even the experience of "getting injured" seems to have been rare.

The ripped bones left horrific wounds on his body that would never fade.

The remnants of a half-baked concept are utterly inadequate in the face of the true God's concept.

The skeletons were not only attacking Bray himself, but also directly attacking the life force he had built up with the tears of the Heavenly Fox.

As countless skeletons engulfed him, he glanced at Levy out of the corner of his eye as he was being swallowed up.

"Bray!" Levy broke free from the skeleton's restraints and reached out her hand to Bray.

Bress unsheathed his greatsword, swept away the surrounding enemies with it, and then grabbed her hand.

The skeleton pressed Bray's head down onto the sand.

He stubbornly raised his head and met Levy's gaze.

Then the girl closed her eyes, rushed out of the pile of bones, and hugged Bray.

The two got together again.

They kept fighting off the skeletons, only to be swallowed up again.

This cycle repeats itself endlessly, without ever stopping.

Navarre simply watched it all unfold with indifference.

He doesn't need to intervene himself to end everything.

That's how the Golden Race "fights" are; they don't even bother to consider "ranged" or "melee" combat, nor do they want to study techniques.

The gods only need to use their own concepts to win, and it will be a one-sided and complete victory.

Bray understood this a long time ago, he should have understood it a long time ago.

So why am I so unwilling to accept this? Where exactly did I fall short?

Even with another version of myself helping, why couldn't the ending be rewritten?

Humans do indeed feel regret; ultimately, it's because they weren't strong enough.

Or perhaps I was on the wrong track from the very beginning.

He ignored the tearing of all the bones and embraced Levy.

Levy, like herself, was covered in wounds.

In such a wave of bones, no one can emerge unscathed.

Strength, speed, stamina—none of it matters anymore.

"Bray, does it hurt?" Levy asked, being held in her arms.

"It doesn't hurt, so don't cry," Bray said softly, wiping away her tears.

“Then, Levy doesn’t feel any pain either,” the girl said.

“Bray, Bray,” she called out to Bray.

"what happened?"

Levy didn't speak immediately, but instead kissed Bray.

"Levy loves Bray the most." Levy made a QVQ face and hugged Bray tightly, as if she wanted to meld herself into his embrace.

“Me too,” Bray replied without hesitation.

My lonely life should come to an end.

No, am I lonely?

Even at the very end, Levy was still by his side—

This seems like a good idea.

So be it.

Over a century of perseverance, yet it's all in vain...

I'm sorry, Shiro, the world still hasn't turned out as you wished. I'll start writing the next "what if" scenario in a few days; the choice made by Hikari and Kenshin will determine what happens next.

So, if different choices are made, will a story have a different outcome?

Maybe, maybe not.

What changes will occur to people who choose different paths?

It's still unclear; after all, who in this world can turn back time?

But as long as you don't regret that choice now, what happens afterward doesn't matter.

"Regret" is ultimately the most meaningless thing; most people don't learn anything from it.

Like the wheels of history, they will eventually return to a certain point.

If that's the case, perhaps... this very moment is also a new one.

Bray lowered his eyes, staring at the great black sword directly in front of him.

The greatsword belongs to Carlogaris, the forgotten hero, and is now deeply embedded in the earth.

Kalogarith had two swords, one destroyed, and the other right before him.

Bray first raised his hand, then lowered it again.

"Cough cough..." He coughed a few times, spitting out blood and foam from his mouth.

He was already badly injured in the battle with Carlogaris, the most obvious injury being his limp, hanging left arm.

He found it incredible that he could raise his right hand.

Carlogaris's last words were to tell him to take the sword with him.

But Bray felt he wasn't qualified.

He was neither a famous hero nor a potential warrior.

He's just a newcomer to adventure, an ordinary adventurer.

Even before his life-or-death duel with Carlogaris, his swordsmanship was nothing short of awful.

“You’ve given me enough gifts. I’ll keep this sword with you.” Bray sighed, gritted his teeth, and picked up the greatsword.

He staggered a few steps and came to the place where Carlogaris had disappeared.

There, only the broken black armor remained, and Bray placed his sword beside it.

Let him use a greatsword, please.

Sunlight streamed through the open opening in the ruins, casting its rays onto the ravaged ground.

Ignoring the blinding light, Bray headed towards the exit alone.

We won this time, but we were just a little luckier.

If I switch places next time, will I still win? Probably not.