A little while later, the wind abated, and silence took over, though my ears still rang. Noticing light shining behind my closed eyes, I slowly cracked them open.
“Whoaaa.”
The destructive waves Wrath’s sword generated had cleaved the black giant and cut its pot cleanly in half. That gash continued to run through the meadow far off into the horizon, as if he’d cut the ground into two.
Right, we’re blaming all this on the Champion. There’s no way I can talk my way out of this!
“Ugh, there’s dirt in my mouth.” Shuna retched and spat while dusting the debris from his hair. Lana remained pristinely clean. Freyja, who she’d used as an umbrella to shield herself, was covered head to toe in dirt.
“Move.” Bel, the mystery person I’d been holding, brushed my arm away. The old Bel would’ve said something bittersweet and adorable. The difference was jarring.
“Looks like the battle is over.” Lazalisa, having returned, roughly dusted off her master—hard. I almost felt bad for the girl.
“And so falls the Dark Lord, Gormlaith, a truly formidable foe.”
“……Indeed,” Lana replied with a smile at my moving words, her face ghastly pale.
“Well done, comrades. I’ll thank you in due time. But first,” Freyja began, then looked Wrath straight in the eyes, “many thanks, Wrath. Until I tell you to stop, walk away in any direction but toward the red flowers.”
“Boooaaah.” The giant set off across the meadow. Every few paces, he’d turn around as if to ask, Keep going?
“A little farther!” Freyja would call out in return. After about one hundred meters, she said, “You can stop there!”
“ROOOAAAH!” Wrath waved back at Freyja. Hmm? Why do I have a terrible feeling about this?
“Laualliuna, you have a little more strength left in you, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Very well.” Wait, hold on.
But before I could stop them, the two Leaders of the Final Flame started chanting, then unleashed a magical blast.
““Dragbane!”” they shouted, their voices a little hoarse. A ball of fire flew straight at Wrath, setting him aflame.
“BOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAH!” Wrath let out one long roar as the flames engulfed his body. Yet almost immediately, he accepted his fate and stopped wailing. Gallant and valiant, the picture-perfect martyr calmly buckled to his knees like a samurai dying by his own sword.
“WRAAAAAAAAAAAAATH!” I cried. As if in reply, the flaming giant gave me a thumbs-up, then withered and died, leaving not even coals behind. “……You didn’t have to burn him like that.” It was too cruel. Hoense mages were so mean. I’d planned on keeping him as a pet back at camp.
As if nothing in the world could be more natural, the Champion of Light said, “Whaaat? I would never trouble myself to look after a golem. It’d cost a fortune to maintain, plus you never know how long it’ll live, so it’s impossible to sell it off. And those that happen to get a little too clever cause all sorts of trouble, you know? As its creator, it was my duty to see it through to its final moments.”
“……If you say so.” Talk about a terribly tragic end.