Once in a generation, the shattering comes back. Bringing dark, murky clouds. Pollution filled the air and began to choke the living creatures upon the surface. With Nhaulik being out of commission, Iron incapacitated and Korinthine being too busy with her infection to mend the sky, the last remaining light marched outwards. A being of death itself can not fear what death may actually be, and so, the Blooming Messiah thanked his companions for their effort in spearheading the use of the infection as a means of power and healing. As he started his decaying march towards the center of the world, Master Aureate halted his progress. She exclaimed that he must stay, for the castle would fall into chaos if he were to leave. He assured her that she would be a great leader for his people, resuming his advance. As ash and dust took to choking him as he made his way there, the ground was being tainted by his curse. When a sudden whirlwind came upon him, he planted his feet into the ground. This sparked a massive conglomeration known as the garden of eyes. He shielded himself with the flowers, barely hanging on without flying into the sky. Fortunately, it let up, letting him continue into the storm. By this time, the fog had become so intense, he could no longer see nor hear. Without a nose, he breathed through his skin, making this trip all the harder. His body started to falter, becoming weaker and weaker. He finally planted his foot against the center, where all realities converge. He lit himself aflame via lightning, burning himself for the world. As he burned brighter and brighter, the ashen storm around him blew further away, Iron watching from his palace, amazed. A massive blast of fire was shot across the world, leaving a massive tree in his stead. The storm had lasted years; it's effects still being felt with the ash it left behind.