The Witch flew into the air.
As he was following her, he looked back at the giant Flame Sword.
Lonely.
That was what the Witch had called the sword.
It was covered in cracks, and no other Flame was near it, as if avoiding it.
'It's far from lonely,' Nameless Death thought as he recalled the centuries in the other Cosmos.
A smile appeared on his face.
While it might take a while, he would definitely go back, and meet everyone.
The Witch and Nameless Death stopped in the skies.
She looked at him with a scrutinizing gaze.
"I thought you would be more angry with me. I refused you, after all."
"There is no reason for me to be angry with you just because you aren't sharing what is yours."
The knowledge the Witch had belonged to her. If she didn't want to share it, then Nameless Death would accept the choice.
"So are you ready?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied.
