The world flickered.
Not gradual fade but abrupt instability, reality flickering like flame caught in wind. The solid ground beneath became translucent for a single second before solidifying again.
The sky glowed between crimson-black and blackness.
The survivors who surrounded Reinhard began dissolving.
The warriors he had lifted from ash started losing, fading away. Their forms blurred at the edges first, golden light bleeding into the surrounding air and breaking apart into little lights.
Their shapes thinned and they gradually started to become streaks of pale light rather than solid figures.
One by one, they vanished completely.
The warrior with the walking stick, the first he'd saved, moved his eyes to Reinhard's eyes as his form faded.
He smiled, expression carrying gratitude words couldn't convey, and then he was gone, leaving only a faint glow that dispersed within seconds.
The others followed.
