[Storyteller] It seems like the end is drawing near, everyone's on the ground and Sendor can't decide on who he should drop the sickle first. Rahed is not ready to give up yet, he's not willing to let go and with firm voice incite the other kings:
[Rahed] We need to s tep up and do something, I know we're weak and paralyzed, but if we don't do everything in our power then tomorrow will never come. We are the custodians of wisdom, of millennial magic arts, so there must be something we can do to prevent a dreadful end!
[Sendor] In your death throes...
[Storyteller] Dipped in the blood, the dust and the dirt, the kings crawl to the floor, exhausted and hurt, reaching for their weapons, summoning strength for their last resort, the only hope to survive.
[Storyteller] The rod is summoning the force of the magic elements, the bow attracts the ring and then they start floating in mid-air and as the weapons come in contact they create a beam of light that suddenly goes into Daltor's sword.
[Rahed] Oh look at the silver sword shining! It's a dazzling blinding glow and what we are witnessing is the eternal fight between light and the dark. We are the custodians of wisdom, of millennial magic arts, I knew there'd be something we could do to prevent a dreadful end!
[Sendor] In your death throes...
[Storyteller] Dipped in the blood, the dust and the dirt, the kings crawl to the floor, exhausted and hurt, reaching for their weapons, summoning strength for their last resort, the only hope to survive.