Amon stood alone in the centre of the broken meteor, his face beaming with both exhaustion and adrenaline. Fire and ash enveloped him, yet he didn't look worse for wear. Instead, he looked like a phoenix reborn, sauntering through the destroyed capital with the poise of an emperor.
The work was done.
Starfall had halted.
Amon had stopped the final meteor that would have utterly destroyed the capital. Around him, there wasn't a single clenched jaw as they widened their mouths in complete shock. Not the Solaris Lord, not the Sword Saint, and not even the Sky Spear, the ancient man who had served by the side of the Clay Emperor as he fought the heavens.
Amon had stunned them all.
Nyx's black blade was covered in dust and soot, yet everyone instinctively felt fear when looking straight at the Heroic-grade sword. No, with the destruction of the meteor… perhaps it had advanced into a never-before-seen grade.
One that surpassed the Holy Blade altogether.
Not that it mattered now.
