Cassandra looked around frantically, the metallic sounds of clashing weapons reaching her ears and causing an unnecessary level of anxiety to build in her heart. It was a very gloomy environment... an incredibly gloomy one.
With just one glance, the Ancient Woman could see that tens of thousands of people had lost their lives on the battlefield around her.
The rising shouts, battle cries, heart-wrenching sobs, and more echoed in her ears alongside the clanging of metal.
It was a heavy sound. Even Cassandra had rarely encountered such a battlefield before the era of peace had begun.
"Is this... the future?" Cassandra asked aloud. The people running around her seemed to pass through her body as if they were spirits, reminding Cassandra once again that this was a memory.
Yet it was too painful to be just a memory. It was truly impossible for anyone to remain sane in such an environment.
Cassandra began to walk, looking at the bodies of angels and demons standing around her and seeing the dead bodies of dozens, hundreds of world races.
A scream reached her ears between her steps, and the Ancient Woman suddenly turned her head towards the scream.
In the distance, among hundreds of dead bodies, Cassandra could see one very clearly... A man sitting on the ground, tired and hunched over, holding someone in his arms.
"Atlas," Cassandra said, and she ran to his side.
Cassandra’s eyes darkened instantly.
Atlas was holding the dead Helena in his arms. The women and men of dozens of races who had always chosen to fight alongside him stood around him with tears in their eyes.
The tears streaming down Atlas’s eyes, the darkness in his gaze... in short, the expression on his face clearly conveyed hatred and death.
Cassandra had officially realised that her heart was beginning to break...It was as if thousands of knives were being stabbed into the heart of the Ancient Woman. Despite following Atlas for some time by now, she had never seen such an expression on his face before. How old was he in this memory? Perhaps 20, perhaps 30... yet he did not appear to be very old.
Just as she was about to approach Atlas and try to touch him, Cassandra suddenly noticed that the surrounding image had begun to change. The Ancient Woman had progressed through the memories, one minute at a time, until she reached the moment when Atlas had cried repeatedly and, gradually losing the tears in his eyes, had stood there with only a sad expression.
"The Final Battle," Cassandra suddenly heard a voice say. She could hear Azula speaking to her.
Atlas looked very old. Cassandra clearly remembered Orion’s words... Atlas had died at the age of 37, but why did he look like an old man over 50?
Why, despite all this, despite his body and face being covered in wounds, was he still standing tall?
She could see the demons and angels around her. Dead or still alive, demons and angels attack Atlas every second. It was a terrible sight. A heart-wrenching and headache-inducing sight.
Despite all this, Atlas still seemed to be standing tall. In his left hand, he held a large staff, and in his right hand, a small knife even can be called a small sword.
"The greatest hero that has ever lived," a rough voice suddenly rang out.
When Cassandra looked at the source of the voice, she saw a demon. A demon with six burning wings, two horns, and perhaps as tall and large as Atlas.
"Who is that?" Cassandra asked suddenly.
"Beelzebub," said Azula, who had suddenly appeared beside Cassandra and chosen to use that name.
"With you on the lips of all demons and angels, having killed tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, I didn’t expect you to be so weak," Beelzebub said.
Atlas’s gaze was blank, troubled, and weary, but he could see every living being around him—humans, elves, dwarves, half-demons, half-angels, half-beasts, and members of every other race—just as Beelzebub could see them...
Those eyes were so heavy they could make even a demon like Beelzebub shiver.
"Still... I must admit, no one who is alive could have done what you did. I respect you more than even the Sages... no, I shouldn’t lie. You are the only one I respect, Atlas. At least you have the courage to keep moving forward, even knowing you will die." Beelzebub added.
"If..." Atlas suddenly said. The thickness of the voice rising from his throat instantly made Cassandra tremble... the reality of the moment seemed to strike her again with Atlas’s words.
"If...?" Beelzebub had questioned.
"If you respect me that much, let them go. If you promise me you won’t touch them... at least for a while, I’ll challenge you to a death duel. A demon... Especially Beelzebub, I don’t think you’d object to that when you can gain lots from it." Atlas had replied.
Beelzebub smiled the moment he heard these words. The smile on the ancient demon’s face was so ugly, so repulsive, and so off-putting that there was no way to describe it properly.
"Why would I do that?" Beelzebub asked suddenly.
"Come on... I’m not stupid. Do you think I don’t know how valuable my head is? Do you think I don’t know that even if you kill me, you can’t go any further without my consent? I’m giving you an opportunity," Atlas said, a smile appearing on his expressionless face.
"You have no idea what you’re talking about! We both know you’re bluffing," Beelzebub replied.
Beelzebub. He was the most powerful demon after Lightbringer. His very existence defied reality. The power he had amassed over millions of years from humanity, where greed was at its peak, was immeasurable.
Atlas was facing such a being. What could he say? What could he do? All he could do was explain what he knew... How could he stand up to Beelzebub, how could he force him into an agreement?
At that moment, Atlas raised his head toward the sky and spoke these words: