When I landed in the ruins of Nerima Raksha, I didn't feel like a leap. The magic in the starry sky burned and imprinted in the sky along my trajectory, which was the feeling of falling.

After all, I'm just a mortal.

On the swirling sand dunes around me, a squad of Lahorac was fighting. This group of Sun Cult warriors had made the long journey from the temple of the Giant God Peak. They had fifty spears in all, and three weeks into the desert was a distance I could cross in a matter of moments. They came to investigate a power that was overflowing, even if it itself was losing money. Here, the sun they worship is always shining, and the back of history still seems to be imprinted in the desert, outlining the remnants of a lost empire from ancient times. The tall mansion has now been buried in the sand dunes. The sun, which once allowed mortals to ascend to heaven, has long since sunk into the ground.

Shurima was born here and died here. The first Ascendant was created in Nerema. They were supposed to defend Shurima against any threat. Yet, with the kingdom shattered, the Ascended have been driven into madness by centuries of strife, turning into the Darkspawn, trampling and ravaging the world, and eventually imprisoned.

However, I am well aware that something abomination, born of Shurima's hubris, is still not dead

The sound of metal rings in my ears, and a spear grabs over my helmet. Spears after guns. The chimes began to form a high-pitched battle cry, and Rahorak unleashed their power. However, just as the sky was filled with gold and iron, a magical explosion swept through the spear's path, marking a mark of destruction in the ruins.

The dust settled, and I saw it. The goal of my trip. A creature stands in horror, scorched and broken, just as the empire it will rule. It is unlike any Ascendant I've ever seen, it is a shattered god who has come to take over the fallen city and intends to make it rise again.

But once it was just a mortal.

I will remind it of what it was, and I will breathe out the breath of life in the face of destruction. I'll remind them all.

"It's the Celestial Warriors," one of the Rahorraks exclaimed, "we can't win it"

"I'll show you the death of the gods," I roared, spear raised, and charged. The spears twinkle with their power, which is the power of the gods, the power of the stars. My muscles struggled to bear the weight of the strange magic, and the creature unleashed another blast through its shattered body. My spear didn't burn out like Lahorlac, but gave off its own light. It rushed at the Ascendant like a comet, knocking it to the ground, and the power of the blast was bent into the sky.

In front of me, a few feet away from the ravine created by the creature, a Rahorak carried the corpse of another warrior in his arms. In order to protect her comrades, her own arm was burned by magic.

"You, you are the Star Spirit." She said, but I could see despair in her eyes. She was praying, she was begging for an affirmative answer so that she could be saved. And only in this way can her friend be saved. All around me, Lahorlac's front had collapsed, and their will to fight had fallen.

I didn't answer, my spear had been summoned back to her hands, the magical power she had so desperately desired. The returning spear still had some of the force with which it was thrown. The Ascendant left no blood trails on the tip of the spear, and brought back nothing but dust, its body made entirely of magic and rock.

I wanted to tell her my name, that I was Atreus, that I was also a Rahorlac, and that I had looked up to the stars for the strength to save me, but that man was dead. He died at the top of the Giant Peak, along with his brother Pyras. It was Panson who killed him, and it was his own failure that killed him. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get back to Atrius or Pyras. Even if that god is gone, even if its constellations have peeled off from the firmament, it will not help.

Instead of speaking, I turned to face the creature again.

"You must fight," I told the Lahorak lightly, "you must all fight." "All around us, the ruins of the city burned, just as the magic of the Ascended would not be extinguished.

The yellow sand was melted and solidified into glass, and I rushed over it. Magical explosions struck continuously, each blow shaking the entire world until it felt like the earth itself was falling apart, and only the heavenly court could survive. But I refused to give up. I saw that the ballistas were all abandoned in their place. Lahorak ducked behind the ruins, shields in hand, engulfed in the dust.

"Fight, you must fight," I yelled in a louder voice. The authority of the gods was still mixed in with the voice, and I was disgusted by the weight. Then I rushed to it, my spear cutting through the stone it used to make up its face. At such close range, his magical blast struck my shield directly, forcing me back. My spear swept again, leaving a trail of magic. Again, I raised my shield, barely able to fend the Ascendant's wrath.

With all my might, I dug my feet deep into the earth and kept the monster in its place. The will of the Ascended wields magic, and in a relentless rage of rage unleashes an increasingly fierce attack on me. I bucked the trend, squeezing a roar from between my teeth, and poked my spear from behind my shield in all directions with a frenzied shot that pierced through the ruins, through the sky, and caught between Lahorak and still hiding. My hands began to tremble, and this time I let out a low growl not at the samurai, but at myself, with an almost suffocating gut.

"Combat"

The creature's eyes gleamed fiercely. It got it. The ground beneath my feet is precarious. My body was also crumbling. I fell to the ground. The magic on the spear went out, and the helmet rattled with my cough.

I spat a mouthful of blood into the dust and struggled to lift my head. When I looked out at Nerima, I could only see a Lahorac warrior, surrounded by smoke and chaos. She looked back at me and saw the eyes I had just revealed, and this time, she didn't see the star spirit. The man was holding Pyras, watching his dying gasps turn to snowflakes.

I don't know if she got the tattoo on my chest. It was the constellation in the night sky, and it was my destiny. A scar runs through it. Instead of pleading, I saw her face glow as the creature began to gather strength and prepare to unleash another magical blast. Though her arms were broken, and though her friend was stiff, she picked up her shield and staggered towards me, her steps as determined as if she were destined to die.

"What's your name," I asked, gasping for breath, and her light grew brighter and brighter.

"Assosher." She said firmly, standing beside me, and pointed her shield in the direction of the magical blast.

The entire ruin was overwhelmed by an uncanny light, as if to declare that everything would be reduced to ashes and then nothing but darkness would be left. There is no more power, no more astral spirits. The place where Assothor had just stood was empty. Only my memory.

But I can still feel my scars, throbbing and aching. It's a reminder of how alive I feel, of every moment of my journey. My fellow brother, Pyras, tell me to stop staining his victorious barbarian attacks with blood, we both were on the verge of death at the top of the Titan Peak, and we fell to the ground without the sword of the Darkborn, piercing death, awakening me to the highland wheat, growing tenaciously in the cracks of the rocks My mud-stained hands, lay down the plowshare, and pick up the spear

If it weren't for a female warrior who put up a shield, it would have been all for naught, and she knew there was no hope of survival, but she still chose to fight. Her strength, her sacrifices, are better than the stars in the sky, better than me, better than the astral spirit equipment in my hands.

She will not die in vain.

I struggled to my feet, bruised all over. I saw Lahorlac's figure emerge from behind the bunker and into the middle of the ruins behind me, as if a solar eclipse had eaten away at the solar disk. I got up with them, and now I am not a god, but a mortal. The pantheon to which I am enshrined is all those who have fallen, and it is they who have kept me alive. All who survive, all who die, must face the moment of fate, must decide the reason to fight, the love of life, and the true self.

In the face of such courage, God is nothing.

"Assosher," I cried out towards the ruins, ignoring the fact that my ribs had broken and pierced my lungs.

"Asser" Rahorak responded to my battle cry. They also stood tall in the rubble, their shadows elongating and magnifying behind them, and the Ascended began to accumulate magic again.

Though I was broken, and though the gods on my body were dead, I felt the power of the spear ignite again, and the tassel on the top of my helmet suddenly lit up. It's calling me to fight. The Lahorraks threw their spears again.

Then, for a moment, one of the stars in the long-vanished constellation of war in the night sky flashed brighter than the sun's brilliance.

Her name is Assoser.