Hate me, Miss Witch!

Chapter 391 - 203: Every Journey Has an End

That was the supreme being of the Glorious Era, the Pantheon of Gods.

Even though it is just a partial remnant, even though it has slept for a thousand years, with layer upon layer of weakening and suppression, the true power may barely be a tenth remaining, or even a hundredth.

Still, who in this world truly dares to say they can definitely defeat it?

For beings above the legendary, mere physical combat doesn’t count as particularly perilous, as the legendary powerful pro has many means to preserve their life if truly outmatched.

Substitution Puppet, Astral Evasion, Long Distance Teleportation, and even the Life Casket of the Necromancy School, all can preserve one’s life.

However, the battle in the Spiritual World is the most perilous existence.

After all, with just a slight carelessness, your spirit might be obliterated.

Then even if the flesh remains, even if it is intact.

Yet, you are no longer yourself; an intact body is utterly meaningless.

"Teacher Shaar..."

"What kind of feelings did you harbor to say such words..."

The Golden Elf’s voice carried a slight tremor.

Though clearly all of Shiayar’s actions were for her.

If not for her, Shiayar wouldn’t have plunged into such danger, even risking his own life.

But at this moment.

Clearly, he himself was in peril, the most dangerous person.

Yet he still pretended nothing was wrong, using a teasing and confident tone to comfort her.

Cold teardrops slid down Hathaway’s delicate face, falling onto the ground of the Black Tower.

Making a crisp sound of dropping.

"If I’m not mistaken, Hathaway, you’re not crying now, are you?"

"Honestly, I don’t particularly like your crying, teary look..."

"It’s too dramatic, too sentimental."

"This isn’t a parting of life and death in a Qiong Yao drama, with the heavens separating people, but merely a short farewell."

"No need to act as if I’ve died, as if you’re mourning me."

Shiayar’s words also carried a hint of helplessness.

"You wouldn’t want me to lose to that self-proclaimed Sun God old crone, right—"

"If that’s the case, then smile, Hathaway."

"If the sun had a shadow, everyone would be sad, wouldn’t they?"

"And if I can feel your smile, then while I’m tugging at that old crone’s will at the end of the Abyss, I might have a bit more strength, right."

Listening to the young man’s words.

Hathaway wiped away the tears from her eyes.

She wanted to smile—

But found that the reflection in the water curtain, her current expression, was even uglier than crying.

"Sigh, no, that’s not right—"

"Thinking carefully, asking you to smile in this situation seems hard to insist on."

Shiayar paused slightly in his words.

"In any case, although I am very confident, it is after all the remains of a great existence once seated on the Throne of Heaven in an era gone by."

"Even if it ultimately is my victory, it might take a very long time."

"Perhaps years, perhaps decades, perhaps even hundreds of years."

"So, no matter what, it’ll be a long time before we meet again."

"I have left all the Spell Primers and related secret knowledge stored in Jayee’s database in this illusory Black Tower—"

"This way, even without my guidance, you can still grow and become stronger through the comprehensive knowledge of this Great Library."

"One day, you will become very strong—"

"You will reach the top of the stars, reach the end of all Arcane Arts and magic, and even truth."

"Go deeper and further than I have."

His words were full of confidence, as if he wasn’t making a guess but stating an undeniable fact.

"Anyway, let me formally say goodbye to you, Hathaway."

"Actually, I prefer to call you Master over that name."

"Of course, you probably don’t understand what this title means now, but one day you will—"

"Before then, consider it a small indulgence from my heart."

Then, Shiayar’s tone shifted from the previous teasing, becoming a bit more solemn.

"So then—"

"Goodbye, Master."

"Every journey has an endpoint—"

"Our journey is no exception."

He smiled a little: "Perhaps in the long life as an Elf of the Elf Clan, the less than a year we spent together is just a negligible fragment, less than a thousandth of your time."

"But to me, this journey and you, Master, are special."

"You’re the most beautiful elf girl I’ve ever seen."

"I see the stars and the sea in your eyes..."

Hathaway seemed to see the black-haired, black-eyed human youth, whose lips slightly curved as he spoke.

"So, I hope that next time we meet—"

"Between us, it won’t just be the ordinary relationship of a master and disciple."

"But instead, we can go further."

"After all, the rebellious disciple to master sort of thing...

"I’ve been looking forward to it for a long time."

...

The youth’s words, with a hint of teasing, faded along with the resounding crash of the Lost Island falling into the Abyss.

The glow on the tome bearing Shiayar’s writings gradually dimmed.

The Golden Elf’s hand instinctively reached out.

As if wanting to grasp at the last remnants left by the youth.

But she grasped nothing.

The illusory tome gradually faded.

Ultimately, it turned into countless scattered light points, returning to nothingness.