Narrator: The War of the Gods lasted for months.
Narrator: Stars had fallen, and the seawater - once ever so pure - had been tainted with ashes. Gods had fallen, and many had seen their faith destroyed as a result.
Narrator: People were no longer able to appreciate love and beauty. As chaos plagued the consciousness of all, Miraland spiraled downward into years of war.
Narrator: No one knew the details of the divine battle. Looking back, no one was able to recount exactly how it began.
Narrator: Respectively, humans and the gods waged a war amongst themselves in their own spacetime.
Narrator: The human lives lost went down as mere letters in books, and the Ocean lost its colors when the fallen gods never again awoke.
Narrator: The God of Styling stood before the old gods gravely wounded.
Narrator: The old gods, too, were all but burnt out from the fight. They faced the only newborn god left standing.
Narrator: The old gods had lost their control over the Ocean of Memories, while the newborn god had lost all Their comrades.
Narrator: No one knew what would become of this war when neither side had dominating power over the other.
Narrator: But of the principles born out of this world, there is one so strong it could change the Ocean, and not even the gods could hope to harness it.
Choose āWhat is that?ā
You: What is it? Why didnāt they use it before, then?
Leonid: No one can go against objective principles, for miracles come at a price: the very life of who goes against such rules, that is.
Narrator: And no god is willing to meet such a bitter end.
Narrator: Except for Them. They embrace the stars, Their destiny tied to that of humans. They might be an exception.
Voice: Itās obvious that Miralandās civilization will not benefit from a prolonged war.
Narrator: As the chaotic shadow covered the starry sky, it went through a transformation, its sighs resounding through the empty battlefield.
Narrator: Their eyes, however, shone as brightly as ever, as They held the stars and looked unwaveringly at the old gods.
God of Styling: So long as the human heart continues to shine, so too will their civilization.
Voice: But you canāt destroy us, and neither will you be able to save this continent.
Narrator: They said so confidently, for They knew. They knew the very power that could change the Ocean of Memories.
Narrator: And They were willing to sacrifice Themself to use it.
Narrator: For the first time, They pushed away the star trails around Them.
Narrator: They stood alone on the Ocean, starlight gathering upon Their hands as Their divine life flowed away.
Narrator: Then, as the light of the stars all came together, out erupted a blinding white flash...
Narrator: The blinding light signified destruction, its flames boiling the Ocean as the seawater tries to imbibe the light like a greedy beast.
Narrator: Waves were now raging across the Ocean.
Narrator: The shadow of chaos was finally showing signs of fear as it turned itself into a dark arrow and shot itself toward the light.
Voice: Theyāre trying to bring about destruction...
Narrator: They tried to stop Them because they knew the destruction would not leave them unscathed. It was exactly what the God of Styling wanted.
Voice: Stop at once... There is no place for a God who chooses to destroy Themself.
Voice: The humans will forget about you, and youāll no longer be able to call the Ocean of Memories your home...
God of Styling: If thatās what is necessary for this war to stop and for Miraland to survive, then so be it.
Narrator: Standing in the light, They looked nostalgically into the distance.
Narrator: Then, all was engulfed when a towering wave came crashing down.
Narrator: Light, cries, prayers... the wave spared not a single thing.
Narrator: The roaring waves that destroyed civilizations fell silent once again. So, too, were gone the gods who commanded fate at their fingertips.
Narrator: At the cost of one godās life, the War of the Gods came to an end.
God of Styling: Donāt you find it beautiful...
Narrator: They stood quietly as Their body grew transparent and faded away into the starry sky.
Narrator: Even then, They still had Their eyes on the land They were trying to protect.
Narrator: Then, seeming to have remembered something, They turned around to look at me, the only witness of the war.
God of Styling: Goodbye, Leonid.
Narrator: And with it, Their body dissipated into sparkling feathers and fluttered one after another into the cold, welcoming seawater.
Narrator: I began walking around the desolate battlefield.
Narrator: Those asleep will someday awake. Those deceased will take on different forms when theyāre back. Those left behind will eventually come back to the Ocean of Memories.
Narrator: The God of Styling, however, has fallen.
Narrator: People will forget those eureka moments and Their guidance... and theyāll eventually forget what theyāve imagined of Them.
Choose āAre They never coming back?ā
You: Are They never coming back?
Leonid: Theoretically, no. Yet there were signs that suggested otherwise.
Narrator: Over the waves and through the starlight, I sensed Them. The feeling was faint but real, and it was somewhere.
Narrator: I left the Ocean of Memories. The continent into which I was born no longer bore the name of the God of Styling.
Narrator: I crossed the boundaries of spacetime in pursuit of new possibilities.
Narrator: Iād come across countless continents similar to Miraland... but never found what I was after.
Choose āA similar continent?ā
You: Continents similar to Miraland, you say?
Leonid: I suppose youāve seen the possibilities Iām talking about.
Leonid: The same history gives rise to the same hero, and the same historical events took place at different times.
Leonid: When I asked my questions from the abyss to the distant future and all civilizations, the person who gave me the answers wasnāt from a world youāre familiar with.
Narrator: It was then I realized I ventured into uncharted territory. I didnāt know why They existed, nor did I know where They had gone.
Narrator: I have my own theory on the birth and death of gods. The gods who perished from the War of the Gods prove my theory right.
Narrator: Going forward, there will be plenty of chances for me to prove the birth of gods.
Narrator: What makes this god an exception?
Leonid: I grew curious about the way in which the God of Styling existed.
Leonid: But if I have nothing to observe, I will not be able to carry on with my research.
Choose āAre you going to bring Them back?ā
You: The God of Styling didnāt completely disappear. Will you let Them come back to this world, then?
Leonid: I donāt need to.
Leonid: Iāll help set up star trails, but itās not my job to see to it that the stars return.
