But she seemed to be in a stupor, as if she refused to accept the truth.

“…Why…?”

“Don’t you get it?” Iska twirled the white astral sword with his left hand. “A hundred years ago, you’d only take up battles with swordsmen. But you’ve never had to fight a swordsman and a mage at once.”

Nebulis had once represented hope for all astral mages. If she’d still been the symbol of change in this era, the battle would have ended on a different note, and Alice wouldn’t have entrusted the ice flower to Iska.

But Alice’s astral power had come to a decision: The Grand Witch wasn’t going to be the mage to shoulder the burden of bringing about the new age.

“Go back to sleep, Nebulis.” Iska brought down his sword, aiming at the base of the pitch-black wings that peeked out from the back of her cloak. “Next time you wake up, I bet the world will be in a better place.”

There was a tiny cry.

And with that, the girl lost consciousness as the connection to her source of power was severed, falling forward with her eyes shut tight into a deep slumber once more.

Her body was swallowed by a crevice in the sky and disappeared from sight.