I, the Heir of Heroes

【Even so—was it a failure...】

This continent floating in the sky is finally facing irreparable disintegration.

Falling from the sinking abyss, Galo's last condensed eyeballs saw Artoxiu's arm protecting his chest at the critical moment—the arm was red and brown, and the thick blood vessels could not be concealed under the blue smoke blue veins.

It's just that the still majestic power fluctuations, and the figure floating in the air with huge wings spread out, are undoubtedly swearing the opponent's victory.

This kind of injury is not worth mentioning.

【Next time—the next battle won't be such a joke... Artosh! 】

"Well~ I'm looking forward to it!"

Artoxiu understood and tolerated.

Satisfied with this response, Jia Luo's physical body began to collapse, turning into pitch-black starlight and gradually dissipating in the air.

Then appeared, just like the scene of a neutron star collapsing into a black hole at the end of the period, the inwardly condensed wreckage gathered into a jet-black thing that shone like glass.

It is dissipating little by little, and the speed of this dissipation is far greater than the efficiency of its condensation.

Among the countless stones that fell together, the space on the side suddenly rippled, and countless twigs exuded scarlet lava-colored brilliance, weaving into a spherical hollow carrier.

Yingying's light green elf connected all the gaps, firmly protecting this supreme miracle.

Then it fluctuated again, and disappeared without a trace under the gaze of Artosh, the God of War.

Also disappeared at the same time, as well as the Trasil who fought against the entire Flügel clan, the dragon clone, and the 【Evil Hollow】.

The battlefield fell silent in an instant.

Only the elf tide that has not subsided seems to confirm the great battle that happened here just now.

Trasil's mastery of space was obviously higher than the Flügel's technical level, and the Flügel who only knew the pursuit of killing efficiency could only hover around Abant's periphery powerlessly, unable to catch any clues of the opponent's escape.

Their chests were filled with the anger of being teased. Knowing what happened just now, they could only flap their wings aggrievedly, and then flew back to the throne of their lord.

They are ready for hard training.

However, reality hit the weak hearts of the Flügel hard.

The continent established by Artoxiu's throne has long since disintegrated into a prototype. At this moment, there is no place to even kneel down and plead guilty.

A group of wings could only lower their foreheads in shame, waiting for their master to ask questions.

Azrael, who is the first individual, and Jibril, who is the extra individual, are both sleeping in the room where the restoration technique was built, so——at this moment, the only ones who can stand up decisively to take the lead are those who have the merit of "killing gods" Raphael alone.

"Today—I'm in a good mood."

However, the first to speak was Artosh, who was still staring down with his arms crossed.

There was a rare smile on his rock-hard cheeks.

"Thousands of years of anticipation finally have the hope of results, what joy in the world can surpass this..."

"My love wings...do you think that I—will fail?"

It was rare to see his master show such an expression, Raphael opened his broken wings and halo, and said firmly.

"Absolutely not, my lord. You are the absolute god, the strongest god, the king of kings, and you are a great existence that will never be defeated."

"So how do you explain the scars I've inscribed?"

"..."

Raphael was at a loss for words.

Staring at the lord's scorched hands, she didn't know how to answer.

To be injured means to be able to receive heavier injuries, and to be able to receive heavier injuries means that there is a possibility of being killed.

If one person can't do it, then there are two people, if two people can't do it, then there are a group of people.

The wings that ravage the earth walk in the world through this instinct of handling things.

However, when applying this set of theories to his lord, the confusion and embarrassment of inner conflicts caused Raphael to shut down.

"...just treat it as useless words..."

A faint disappointment flashed in the depths of his pupils, and Artosh looked back at Raphael who bowed his head to apologize, then turned around and flapped his wings.

"—[Fourth Fan Individual], how are they who are still in the repair state?"

"Your care will definitely make them feel grateful - of course, this battle is limited to a certain area, except for the space between your throne, the lord, there are only minor and sporadic damages."

"Then everything will continue as usual, and you can arrange it yourself,"

"Yes."

Deep intelligence permeated the majestic face like a rock, with a trace of weariness and boredom in such conversations, Artosh then faded his figure and disappeared under the respect of a group of Flügel.

The spirit fluctuations in the Flügel city began to surge again, and the Flügel who were committed to the restoration began to rebuild silently.

They were all thinking about the deep meaning of their master's last regretful words.

It's just that, with their complete nature engraved from birth, they are doomed to be unable to truly understand Artosh's hopes.

Raphael was still standing above the void, tilting his head and watching the direction in which God of War left.